Sherlock has a fob watch. It's just an ordinary fob watch, really. It's an old fob watch, similar to one you would see in the nineteenth century, with its silver casing, small clasp on the top, and the gears to wind it. It really is just an ordinary fob watch. He rubs his fingers over it, tracing the pattern of it lightly. It's sitting on a shelf within his bedroom. Its original spot is on the mantelpiece by the skull, but Mrs. Hudson threatened to hide his skull again and part of him feared she would hide the fob watch with it. It's an irrational fear, she's barely aware it's there, yet he moves it anyway. He can't explain why, it feels important, special, like something he can't lose. It's rather sentimental, actually, not that he will ever admit to that.
He moves his hand away from it, now only looking down at it as it sits there. He frowns as he tries to read it, it's not often he's at loss, but this watch regularly leaves him at loss of what to think. He can't get much from it, only that it's worn around the edges – likely to have been in pockets full of keys or something of similar. It's old, too. Considering the age he received it, and goodness knows how long they had it previously. His fingers trace the pattern lightly once more; it's not an ordinary pattern, not something regularly seen on a fob watch or anything really, with its countless circles and lines going across it. He has tried to distinguish what the pattern is and what it means, but nothing; it all hits a dead end. Why? It's a fob watch, a rather old fob watch, nothing special about it! Why is the pattern so hard to distinguish? It must mean something! It has to mean something! Sherlock draws his hand away and lets out a groan of frustration. He suddenly asks himself a different question. Why does he have it? Why is it still here? It isn't relevant to anything he does now. It won't be relevant to anything he ever does. Sherlock stares at it for a little longer with a curious expression on his face and a look of fire in his eyes, as if his look will make it tell him all of its secrets. He turns soon after and walks away from it. There isn't much point on dwelling on something he'll never get answers from.
He strides away from the fob watch, out of his bedroom, and into the living room of 221B. Looking around, he realises that John still hasn't returned. Why does it take so long to get the milk? He asks himself as he picks up the violin that is resting on his chair and starts to tune it. His irritation at the watch now being taken out on the violin as he plucks harshly at the strings to test the tune.
John enters Sherlock's bedroom later that day. He walks towards Sherlock's shelves and looks at the name of all the books he has. John's looking for a book he was reading last night, he knows Sherlock has it. Sherlock must have it. Sherlock always takes something of his when he's annoyed him, it's one of his childish ways of getting revenge. John turns his head to read the names of the books; some were so small he could barely read them. Really, is it so hard to find Seven Ancient Wonders? John asks himself. He moves the books around, there's a chance Sherlock could have put it in the back and put others in front of it, but something hits the floor as he does this. It lands with a soft thud, can't be that big. John stops moving the books and looks down. A small, silver fob watch is on the floor. John kneels down to pick it up, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He doesn't remember ever seeing this. When did Sherlock get it? He's lived with Sherlock for years now, but he's never seen the fob watch before. He straightens up and puts it near his ear, there's no sound coming from it. He then shakes it; no sound comes from it again. It's not broken, but then he pulls it away and realises why. There are some gears near the clasp; it's a wind up fob watch, not one that requires batteries. It simply needs winding. As he puts his fingers on the gears, the door opens and Sherlock enters.
"What are you doing with that?" He demands.
John looks up from the fob watch to Sherlock. "Nothing, it only fell on the floor."
"It shouldn't be on the floor in the first place." Sherlock replies, he walks towards John and almost snatches it from John's hands.
"It's only a fob watch, Sherlock. There's no need to get so defensive." John says, watching as Sherlock places it back onto the shelf. "Why do you have it anyway?"
Sherlock looks from the fob watch to John. "You don't need to know." He replies turning to walk towards his bed.
"So, you don't know." John says carefully, watching Sherlock pull back a pillow and reveal a notebook.
"I didn't say that." Sherlock grumbles.
"No, but that's what you meant." John replies crossing his arms.
"No it isn't." Sherlock replies, opening his notebook and searching for a page.
"Then tell me why you have it.
Sherlock doesn't reply. He picks up a pen from the bedside table and starts writing in the notebook. John shakes his head and sighs; he's not going to receive a response that much is obvious. He uncrosses his arms and walks away from the room, maybe he could read Ice Station, he hasn't read that book before, and it is by the same author, it must be similar to Seven Ancient Wonders.
Sherlock stares at the door when John leaves, wondering briefly if the other man will return. When he realises John isn't going to return, he walks over to the fob watch and looks down at it thoughtfully. He isn't too sure why he has it either, it's just one of those objects that you keep with you and can't throw away.
"Doctor."
Sherlock blinks and looks around the room. It happened so quickly and so quietly that Sherlock isn't too sure he heard it. It's a soft whisper with a tone of urgency to it. He looks back down at the watch, wondering briefly if the watch created the sound, scolding himself when realising how stupid that idea is. A fob watch cannot create sounds, voices, or anything. They are only useful as a decorative object and for telling the time, it is not possible for any other use. He turns around, picking up his notebook as he walks away, closing his bedroom door behind him.
Never once does he notice the dim yellow glow the fob watch creates.
AN: Hello, there. So, to anyone who has just come across this story, it is my first WhoLock story, so if it sucks, that's expected. I'm currently rewriting this, my writing style has changed, and there are quite a few plotholes, mistakes etc, which need to be corrected. Just thought I'd let you know.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Have a nice day :)
~Steffii
