GN: This is for the prompt Fuzz
I had an idea for a longer story in which John and Sherlock are on the run from the police, but I have a terrible record with long stories, so I think I'll just put out one shots from it and then eventually put them together if there is enough of them.
Start:
John looks up from his watch at the alternating red and blue lights in front of him. Red, blue, red. It gets through a few more rotations before the passenger's side window is rolled down. Even then, the officer in front doesn't look at him. John can't even make out an outline.
"What is it?" John asks, not moving from his spot against the wall, because he's learned that the homeless don't get along with the Fuzz. "It illegal to lean on a wall or something?" He shifts and looks away.
"Or something." The officer responds and John shakes his head as he recognizes the voice as Lestrade's. He looks around but he knows the area has no cameras; it's why they were here.
"Want a lift?" John frowns.
"Is no an option?" John asks as he notices a few shadows moving across the street. Sherlock had asked them to take care of him, but there's not too much they could do here, besides, it's Lestrade. John hopes he's safe, and despite everything that's happened John still feels like he can trust him. Another car drives by, and when it illuminates Greg, John notices he's in a uniform and his mouth is in a firm line.
"Not today." He still hasn't looked at John but John shrugs and opens the back door. The handle is so cold that John rubs his hands together after they are in the car. Lestrade checks his mirrors before pulling out into the night. John leans into the back of the seat and closes his eyes before letting out a sigh, the heat in the car feels so good right now.
"What's the charge?" John leans forward but there is no response. He watches Lestrade swallow. "Is this official?" John means the uniform and therefore demotion but Lestrade huffs.
"You're not in cuffs, are you?" John smiles at the small one on Greg's face.
"So, what's up?"
"Seems to me, Dr. Watson, that you and Sherlock have too much on your plate to be gallivanting around London as the homeless. Sherlock may slip and do the two of you really want to be killed over your stupidity?" John narrows his eyes.
"Who's talking to me?" Greg laughs.
"I'm a puppet tonight, if you'll give me that." Greg smirks. "And the ventriloquist is someone who knows people who are looking to get rid of you. They are aiming to kill you."
"I know that-"
"Tonight." Lestrade interrupts. "They've found you and are going to be waiting for you under the bridge." John looks away and watches the street lights pass them.
"Dispatch, there is a-" Lestrade cuts it off and taps the steering wheel.
"Anderson's been fired. Donavan was moved over to another department and Dimmock's in France." He offers. "Molly has gotten accepted to some medical campus in Buffalo-"
"America?" John questions and Lestrade nods.
"Anyone who knew of helped Sherlock is being dispersed." John lets out a sigh.
"That makes proving ourselves innocent much harder." Lestrade stops at a red light.
"We all know you are innocent." John crosses his arms. "Listen to me." Lestrade urges. "Sherlock has lived on the streets before, he can do this alone. I hate to tell you to leave him."
"Then don't." John's voice is rough "I won't anyway."
"I found you John. How much longer until the so called bad guys do?" John clenches his fist; he's not used to being on the other side of the law. "There is a backpack next to you." John lifts it up and all of a sudden he knows exactly what they are trying to do.
"Mycroft." John growls and tries the handle and Greg meets his eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Squad car. Remember?"
"Let me out." John glances around but they're not in central London anymore, he doesn't know his way from here. They pull up to a train station and Greg unlocks the door. John gets out. "I can't believe you would do this." John growls out and Lestrade rubs his hand on his face. "You saw what Mycroft did to him."
"And you know what Sherlock did to disserve it." John shakes his head and clenches his fist.
"You really don't think he did it, do you?" Lestrade doesn't answer, just turns the scanner back on.
"If you don't leave, the next time I see you-" John offers a small feral smile.
"Let me guess, it'll be official."
"It won't be polite." He offers and John nods. He slams the door, leaving the backpack inside.
"I appreciate the warning." He says angrily and Lestrade shakes his head in return.
"Be smart about this."
"Ha." John already feels the cold seeping into his bones, how many homeless days does it take to get used to this? "Bit late for that, officer." He spits the title and turns.
Lestrade watches John disappear into the cold night until his phone starts ringing. "Fuck."