Bated by CrazySockGirl.

The First Meeting

John Watson had never really cared much how he looked in public, but he was not about to look disheveled unless he had finished with making love or lounging about the house. After his injury, John had lost the ability to to put on his own clothes without help. Only being able to use his right arm made it difficult to dress himself and made it impossible for him to continue work as a physician. Due to these facts John had decided that he still needed to help people and the best way for him to do that was to deliver mail via the pony express. Now John had to modify his bicycle in order to ride it without falling off. He was glad that he still knew Greg Lestrade a friend of his who was very handy and fixed up the bike without asking for anything.

Greg was also the owner of the only fabric & sewing supplies store in town. Truly it was run by his wife, but Greg owned it. Greg eventually enjoyed the store more than he enjoyed his wife.

After a few months of working for the pony express John had earned enough money to buy himself a new wardrobe, but he couldn't find anyone who would be willing to make modifications to his cloths or make new ones that would suit the needs he had. While walking one day in the center of town on his day off he was stopped by a former colleague from the clinic he used to work at.

"John? John Watson?" The man said. It was a small-ish town, but there were still a lot of people from surrounding towns and cities that came in often that it was easy to forget a face. "It's Mike Stamford. We work in the clinic together." The man was bit heavier set than John, but John was now riding his bicycle delivering packages he was bound to be in better shape than other people would be.

"Yes, Mike hello. How have you been?" John replied finally remembering why this man look so familiar. Stretching his right hand out to shake the man's hand hoping to side step and other greeting that might alert Mike to the fact he had lost the ability to use his left arm. Regardless of the fact that by now he would have thought the whole town would have known, but luckily there were still people in this world who didn't gossip.

"I've been just fine. Haven't seen you 'round the clinic lately. I thought that I had heard you were just on a temporary leave of absence due to an accident?" Clearly the people he thought didn't gossip could only keep their mouths shut for to certain people.

"Well, yes I was on leave. There was an accident, I eventually had to quit because of the accident. It's hard to stich people up with just one hand." John could only deal with so much of his pride being beaten down that he couldn't tell Mike that it was also his arm. "I work for the pony express now. Delivering what needs to be delivered via bicycle." John did his best to have pride in what he did now. He was still helping people and that was what mattered.

"Well good for you. Glad to see that you didn't let the loss of a hand slow you down." Mike said cheerfully.

"Mike do you know of any good tailors? I hate to ask, but because of my hand well..." John trailed off not really wanting to fully confess to the weakness he had, no matter how well he was dealing with it.

"As a matter of fact I do. Oddly enough he was complaining to me about not having enough a challenge when it came to tailoring for his clients. Follow me hes only little bit up the road from here. I'm a little surprised he hasn't found you yet through his network." Mike had a sly smile on his lips as if he was starting somthing that he was truly looking forward of it's outcome.

"His what?" John asked bewildered.

"You'll see."

Sherlock Holmes was the best unknown tailor in town. He prefered to stay unknow finding his own clients instead of them finding him. This made it to where he was able tailor people who would fully respect the work he did. It did not mean that he had clients who tested his abilities. If he moved out of the small town he would probably find the clients he wanted, but he was more than willing to wait for that one client that would truly push him. Even if he did have to wait in this god forsaken town. Sherlock enjoyed his job even more so because his brother despised it. His brother worked in interior design making the home of others look spectacular while his brother made the person themselves look even more so.

When John walked in to the store of Sherlock Holmes, Mike stamford would swear to you that not even the discovery of electricity would have made comparison to the the sparks that flew between Sherlock Holmes and former Dr. now Carrier John Watson.

"This is different from the other shops." John said to Mike when he finally came too after breaking eye contact with Sherlock.

"Well is not the usual tailor. Holmes this is my friend John Watson. John Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Mike said.

"What happened to your arm?" Sherlock said not even giving a proper greeting to the two men who enter his building.

John looked at the man and then at Mike expecting to suddenly see a blood or an injury on him unable to believe this man he has never met could possibly know he had a bum arm. Mike looked at him and shook his head in amusement as well as curiosity as to why Sherlock had said arm and not hand.

"I said what happened to your left arm?" Sherlock said again but not in anger, but with more patients than John would have figured most people would have.

"I'm sorry, but how do you know there is somthing wrong with my arm?" John asked this new and very attractive man.

"You have clearly been to two or more tailor shops based off the statement, 'This is different from other shops', on top of the fact that I was just saying the other day to Mr. Stamford that I would prefer a bigger challenge when it came to my clients. If you have been to a multitude of shops and your clothes still look the way they do, that means they could not help in the way you need it. You do not have a cane which eliminates your legs as the issue and your left arm dangles and swings with less control than the other, suggesting you have less control or none at all in that arm. If I may ask, again, what happened to your arm?" During this Sherlock Holmes had been circling John looking him up and down and taking measurements all the while, but never having to write them down.

"I...I, blimey that was, brilliant. I lost use of it during surgery when a patient reacted badly to sedation and caused my right hand to slip cutting a nerve. I have in fact been looking for a tailor who could modify my clothing to better suite the fact that I have only one hand and arm in which to dress myself." John said astonished that the man had been so perspective.

"Well I must say I don't normally have people that are so forthcoming when I rattle off such details like that they tend to be less open to the idea of working with me. They also tend to say things a bit different than brilliant."

"What do people normally say?" John asked all, but forgetting Mike who had slipped out during Sherlock deduction of his new client. Knowing full and well he was leaving his friend in good hands.

"Piss off." Sherlock said with a smile teasing his lips. A smile that almost broke through when John began to laugh at the statement.

"So," Sherlock said as Johns laughter died down, "How exactly did you need your clothes to be tailored Mr. Watson?" Sherlock said with a the same teasing smile as before it turning into more of a smirk when he saw a slight red tint come across the other man's faces.

"Well, I need to be able to put on the clothes with just my right hand, and have my left arm not get stuck or twisted in strange ways. I might not have control of it, but I can still feel pain. Some of the positions my arm gets stuck in are, quite painful." John looked away from the taller mans face as he finished saying what he need from his clothes, with a slight blush on his face. He was man who did not enjoy showing his weakness except in bed and even then it depended just how comfortable he was his this bed partner. "Please call me John."

"John. I have a few recommendations on how to fix this problem of yours, but I do need to know what you do for a living, now that you are, I presume, no longer at the clinic. I also need to know how you do your new job." There was something in Sherlock's voice that John could not quite place, but he was intrigued to see if he could eventually could.

"I work as a carrier with the Pony Express. I ride a bicycle that has been modified to allow me to balance with my right hand on the handlebars and my left shoulder on a sort of brace. I can ride one handed, but the brace makes it easier with heavier packages."

"So you need something with padding on the left shoulder that is easy to maneuver in while wearing it and removing and placing it on your body. You also need to be able to wear this something while lounging about on your days off, days such as today. I do believe I can do that. Though I do wonder why you do not have your bed partner help you that does seem the easier and cheaper course of action?" John had now placed the tone. It was one he used when he was with a one night lover. The voice was seduction. Sherlock was attempting to seduce him or he was unaware of the fact he was. Regardless of whether or not this man was aware of what he was doing, it was working.

"I do not have a bed partner. Do you have a bed partner?" John was very sure this man did not, but he needed to be sure.

"No."

"So, unattached like me." John was not really sure how talk had turned to private matters, but they had.

"Unattached like you." and suddenly Sherlocks whole stance and voice changed, throwing John for a loop, "I should have the first outfit done by tomorrow evening if you would like to come back then and retrieve it. Do not worry about the price this first outfit is on me. If you like it and it fulfills what you need we shall discuss price and how many other outfits you need next Thursday. When you pick up your outfit come to 221B Baker St. My shop is closed tomorrow but I still do work from home. Stop by around six and if you want I can even buy you dinner. Good day." And with that Sherlock went to the back of the store closing it behind him. It separated the main area of which the clients stayed to be measured and where Sherlock worked his magic.

John was standing there a bit dazed and confused, but eventually left. Sure that most of what had happened was a dream. He walked back into the center of town and back home to work out the kinxs in his arm that had formed throughout the day. He went to bed thinking of the madman who was his new tailor.