Sabre
Summary: Where would someone storage a sabre? Sherlock-logic. Taking place the night before John's job interview during the 'Blind Banker' case.
Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC and the guys who invented them. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made.
Un-beta-ed!
Would love to hear what you think and if anyone wants to do a beta let me know.
I wanted to do this in British English, so I'd like to know about any spelling or grammar mistakes.
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Uh god, what a day!
John followed Sherlock up the stairs into their flat. He was tired, they had been up all day.
The consulting detective had climbed over a balcony and they had found a dead guy shot in his bedroom. Finally they had spoken to Sherlock's 'friend' Sebastian at one of the finest restaurants.
John himself was quite hungry now, Sherlock hadn't bothered to stop to eat all day and John once more decided he needed to break Sherlock of the habit to forget to eat. Or at least make him understand that they needed to make sure John wouldn't pass out from a lack of nutrient by not feeding him.
After leaving his jacket at the wardrobe John sat heavily into his armchair staring blindly ahead.
Eat and then sleep or vice versa?
"What about if I make some pasta for dinner?" he suggested.
Sherlock ignored him, he was walking up and down the room without having taken of his coat. His eyeballs moved fast in his open eyes without actually seeing. John knew he was far away and realised normal talking wouldn't bring Sherlock out of his concentration or the mind palace. His flatmate had shielded himself from his surroundings and was digging in the depths of his thoughts somewhere. Seeing him in this state was something he needed to examine further.
They were living together for a few months now, and there were still quite a lot of things John witnessed in wonder, not knowing what exactly was happening.
Yeah, mark for further examination, not now.
Now: sleep or eat.
He raised from the comfortable warmth and trotted towards the kitchen.
Maybe he would be able to find something he wouldn't need to cook, some kind of fast meal. He started rummaging through the kitchen counters.
When he opened the double doors of the cupboard his gaze fell onto something he had not seen before.
There was a really large metal thing, he looked closer.
It was a… he blinked…
A sword!
An astounding large mixture of a sword and a sabre in fact.
It wasn't wrapped or in a sheath, just laying there in the back of the closet
He frowned.
Where was this thing coming from? It had not been there the last time he had looked into this space, it was noticeable.
Carefully, he touched it, then took it out.
It was quite heavy and definitely didn't look like a replica. He held it in front of his face into the light of the kitchen table.
It looked very sharp and ominously, and pretty much used!
The grip was made with a ornate curl end and it looked skilfully crafted.
Well, Sherlock owned some really odd objects but he had never seen this before, and it was not small enough to be overseen!
But the oddest thing was it smelled… like horse or stable or something like that.
Which meant it couldn't have been here long since it would have lost it's smell then by now. He stared at it.
"Sherlock, there's a real large sabre in the cutlery compartment. You know where it came from?" he tried, though not really expecting Sherlock's mind to be back with the average person already.
"Why? Is it not the appropriate place for a knife to be with the other cutlery?" came the innocent reply.
John rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and had to laugh.
Okay, quite logical.
"Yeah, the problem is, it's not packed and it's rather sharp. One could easily hurt himself by searching through the cupboard. We had a talk about dangerous objects and chemicals and how to store them away appropriately."
"That's why it was in the back."
John sighted, "Where is it coming from and where is the sheath?"
"Hopefully in close proximity to the Jaria Diamond?"
"What?"
Sherlock came into the kitchen and with a graceful movement took the sword and slid it into the small space between the stove and one of the counters, leaving only the hilt to be protruding in the middle of the working space.
He faked a wide grin and turned to vanish into his room.
John stood there about a minute staring at the hilt, his mouth slightly open.
Jaria diamond? Does that mean Sherlock had just found a better place to storage it and expected John would leave it there forever?
He couldn't think, maybe he was too tired.
After another minute he turned and headed for his room.
He switched on the alarm clock to be up in time for his job interview in the morning.
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I'd love to get some feedback.
