AN: So, I was working in the garden and I was listening to some music. After watching the first season of Sherlock, I'd become addicted or somewhat „sherlocked" (reference intended) and then I had read lots of fanfics about Johnlock and they made me start shipping them, so while I was listening to the music, a somehow crazy but kinda cool idea came to my mind and I wanted to write it down, so here it is.
This is my first fanfiction and I wanted to do it in English though I'm not a native speaker, so whoever finds any mistakes may keep them ;) Anyway, I wanted to try at least. This is neither beta'ed nor brit-picked. Favs, follows, "hi"-sayings and everything else are greatly appreciated.
This story sets after The Great Game.
Just so you know, there's always a song involved. This time it's "We'll be coming back" by Calvin Harris & Example (Catchy song!)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the plot. Sherlock belongs to BBC, Steven Moffat & Mark Gatiss who borrowed it from Sir ACD. The song lyrics I used belong to Example & Calvin Harris. Nothing is mine, if it were, I'd be the happiest person on earth, I guess.
Chapter 1 – We'll be coming back:
„Catch you later." - „No, you won't."
His words kept being repeated in his head. He was kinda worried but Sherlock made him get his mind off this, at least every now and then.
A beeping phone tore him out of his thoughts.
„John! We've got a case!" Sherlock's excitement was almost cuttable with a knife.
He went downstairs to find Sherlock grabbing his scarf and walking quickly towards the door. John grabbed his coat and followed him. They hailed for a cab and drove the way to the crime scene in complete silence.
As soon as they stepped out of the car, Lestrade waved them over. Sherlock paid the cab driver and they walked over to Donovan who just greeted them with an annoyed look, rolling her eyes. Nonetheless, she held the barrier tape up so the two could walk over to Lestrade with Donovan following them.
Lestrade was standing there, looking down, scratching the back of his head. Anderson was running around, looking at the ground as he heard talking and he immediately recognized the voices. Looking up, he did as Donovan a couple of minutes ago, letting out an annoyed sigh.
„Ah, the freak is here again. Wanted a piece of this cake as well, huh?"Just after he had finished, John stood right under his nose, giving him a piercing look.
„I'm sorry, Anderson. I didn't listen to you, since I blend out every single thing around me that isn't necessary for the case and you are definitely one of those things. Now, would you please shut up. You're lowering the IQ of the whole street. Again."
Now John was next to Anderson's ear with his head. „And don't you dare ever call him freak again, understood?"
With a slight nod, Anderson went off, kinda hiding behind Donovan.
„If we could get to the important things now."
And as soon as Lestrade had said these words, Sherlock took his glass out, kneeled down next to the body and did „his thing", as John called it.
„You can't be allowed to continue."
Those were his words. And John couldn't get them out of his head.
„Cause of death, John?" He was ripped out of his thoughts. „Excuse me, what did you say?" „Cause of death, John."
While John kneeled down, Sherlock stood up and walked around the body, kneeling down every now and then, mumbling something nobody understood.
„Difficult to say, but I'd go with poison. I can't see any wounds on his body."
Lestrade just stood there, watching and waiting for something Sherlock wanted to share with the rest of the world. And as if he'd read Lestrades mind, he started his „magic" (Johns words).
„So, we have a dead guy in his early thirties in a nightgown in the backyard. I presume the house belongs to him, so he must be rather prosperous. He doesn't wear a ring which indicates that he is not married, so he's a bachelor not even having a girlfriend. According to his expensive clothing he should have worn, he seems to be working as an escort as he is also looking quite neat. Since John goes with poison, I'd say it was hemlock because he smells like mice out of his mouth. But John missed a thing, there is a wound in his stomach. A stab wound, to be exact. Probably a kitchen knife which the perpetrator took with him. The nightgown is dry while the grass and the body are wet. It did rain the past night, so he must have been lying here at least since 11pm yesterday. The nightgown was put on by someone else since it's dry, but where are his clothes? I presume the perpetrator took it since it was full of blood. Since there is no pool of blood beneath him, it's sure he didn't die here but he was dropped. All of this indicates that there are two culprits. One, who poisoned him and another one who stabbed him. This is so exciting!"
Sherlock put the glass in his pocket and jumped slightly from excitement.
John had drifted off again while Sherlock had made his deductions.
„I'm gonna kill you eventually."
-He couldn't. He won't.-
The jumping made him come back to reality again. He saw Sherlock leave and followed him quickly. As Sherlock hailed for a cab, John just stood there lost in his thoughts. They rode the way back to their flat in complete silence and when they entered, Sherlock shut the door and sat down in his armchair, cross-legged, looking at John who had been so absent since the thing with Jim Moriarty.
„John, are you alright?" He didn't want to sound concerned, but the words were out, so he just left it there, waiting for an answer.
It took a while, but eventually he heard John mumbling, something about death.
„John? I asked you if you were alright."
-Didn't he hear what I said or was he trying to simply ignore me?-
John peeked his head around the corner and looked directly at Sherlock.
„Yeah, I'm fine."
Sherlock knew it wasn't true, but left it at that.
-He'll come to me when he's ready to talk about whatever's bothering him.-
„I will burn the heart out of you."
John was lying in his bed, thinking.
As was Sherlock just beneath his room.
-He has changed since the thing with Moriarty. He's been distant almost all the time.-
We took it all apart
But I'm wishing I'd stayed
-It had been so close. If John hadn't been involved, I'd have shot him.-
In the back room something I heard you say
-Death, wasn't it?-
We didn't want to call it too early
Now it seems a world away
But I miss that day, are we ever gonna feel the same?
-It was the only time I'd met him. But I'll get to him once more, I've done it before.-
John laid in his bed, running over Moriarty's words over and over again.
Standing in the light till it's over
Out of our minds
-I need to get it out of my head. But it'll be alright as long as Sherlock's safe.-
Someone had to draw a line
-He did. He drew the line and Sherlock blurred it by coming that close.-
Sherlock got out of bed and went into the living room, sitting down in his armchair, cross-legged.
We'll be coming back for you one day
-I'll get to you once again for threatening John. Whether you believe it or not.-
John turned in his bed, facing the door, secretly hoping Sherlock would come in.
I don't even care if I know you
Out of our minds
-I don't care, I just want it out of my head.-
He heard him twisting in his bed but sat still.
Sad to leave it all behind
We'll be coming back
We'll be coming back for you one day
-This is a promise, Moriarty. I'll get to you. Whenever you're ready, I'll accept the challenge.-
He sat there until the sun came through the half-closed curtains and then he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. John stepped in, obviously still half-asleep.
„Tea?"
He looked at him, worriedly glancing at the rims of John's eyes. In a flash, he stood in front of him, close, too close, caressing the shadows of Moriarty shown on John's face.
They stood there for a while, John just looking at him as Sherlock kept on stroking the visible hurt.
There was a tension you could've cut with a knife. But John eventually broke it by turning around to make the tea.
„I'd love some. Had a rough night?"
Though John didn't answer, Sherlock could already tell from the shadows he'd been caressing.
„I will burn the heart out of you." - „I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."
„You lied."
Sherlock just looked at him. „What?"
„But we both know that's not quite true."
„You lied and Moriarty was right."
Now Sherlock seemed completely confused. What a rare state.
„What about?"
„You do have a heart, Sherlock Holmes."
And with that, he took his cup of tea and went up to his bedroom, leaving Sherlock really confused for the first time.