Disclaimer: Don't own. Lest you count seasons.
Title: Parachute
Lyrics in bold are from Parachute by Ingrid Michaelson.
Two people had died. Five had been rushed to the hospital in critical condition. Seventeen sat on the curb waiting on a paramedic to look them over. Three stood in a circle, or as much of a circle as three people could make, and mumbled to each other. And through all the chaos of the early morning, sharp eyes followed a certain doctor as he looked over the injured people. 'Sherlock. Sherlock!' He jerked his attention back to Lestrade. An annoyed look on his face as he regarded the elder man.
Hours had passed before they were allowed to leave. Sherlock had been bothering the detectives non-stop. He didn't want to leave without the doctor, who was still checking over the people and even some of the officers who had waited for the civilians to be taken care of. Lestrade had let him look over everything, it had been the only way to keep him out of the way and shut him up at the same time. John stood on the edge of the curb stone still as they waited for the car to come to a stop before them. The taller slid across the seat and he followed slowly after. His head was ringing from the explosion. His shoulder ached from pulling himself out from under the rubble and he was pretty sure he had a long scratch going down his back from the way his shirt stuck to him. He hadn't felt any of this until he had helped everyone that he could. The moment he had paused the pain had started. He just wanted to get back to Baker Street and pass out. 'I scratched my hand.' He blinked and looked over to Sherlock who had a pitiful look on his face. 'What?'
'My hand. I've scratched it.' He held it out and the doctor carefully looked at the line of red running along the side of his palm from pinky finger to wrist. 'You'll be fine.' John moved to let go, but Sherlock's fingers gripped his a little too tightly. The doctor looked up to see Sherlock staring out the window. A slight tremble started in the detectives hand and John rubbed his thumb over the back of it soothingly. It wasn't the first time he had seen this chink in the detectives armor, but they were so rare that he cherished every one.
-I don't tell anyone about the way you hold my hand-
Once back at 221B, Watson peeled off his shirt. It hurt as the skin and fabric separated. He turned and saw a long gash running from his shoulder blade to just above his belt. He looked at his shirt a small hole was all that showed. He reached for the gash to see how deep it was, but his fingers couldn't touch it. He opened the bathroom door and called for Sherlock. 'What?' He had moved back in front of the mirror, still reaching for the wound. He placed the gauze in the detective's hand as soon as he entered the small room. 'Clean it and tell me if it is too deep.'
He stared at himself in the mirror as Sherlock started to poke and prod at the long wound. He had a deep bruise on his chest. He was sure it was from falling on an edge of a brick. 'Ahh. Watch it.' He felt Sherlock's fingers pulling on something and he grit his teeth. 'There is something in here.' He let out a shaky whimper when a long strand of metal slid out of the cut. He gripped the sink and leaned over trying to catch his breath. Sherlock watched him for a few seconds before continuing his cleaning. 'John.' There was no response. 'John.' He repeated. He kneeled so he could look up at the face resting on the sink. 'Hey.' Eyes flicked to him. 'Stand up straight for me.' He nodded and moved slowly.
Sherlock wrapped the gauze around the doctor's torso slowly. The thin line where the metal had been started bleeding again and he added a thin layer of gauze directly on top of it. When he pulled the shard out it must have made a new wound. Sherlock stepped in front of the doctor and lifted his head. 'You ok? It isn't bad.' A nod. They made their way to the doctor's bed and John slid under the covers. 'I'll have to show you how to keep from hurting your patients one day.' Sherlock smiled and turned off the lamp. His hand was caught before he stepped away from the bed. 'Don't tell anyone I made that pitiful noise.' Sherlock patted his mate's hand and nodded. 'Promise.'
- I don't tell anyone about the things we have planned. -
John was already making breakfast when Sherlock stumbled into the room. His curly hair was stuck to his head on one side and poofed out as far as it would go on the other. 'Nice hair.' Sherlock groaned and leaned against the counter next to the stove. 'You need a redressing.' He pointed at the wrapping. 'I know. I didn't want to wake you.' The doctor moved a little slower than normal, but no one else would have noticed. Sherlock decided he'd go easy on him today. Having a building fall on you must have hurt. He knew it had hurt him just to see it happen. The doctor had been only a few feet behind him when the explosion had gone off as he was turning, and it was like slow motion as the tall building collapsed and fell toward the street. He clicked the image into the delete file and went to redressing the healing wound. It looked better than it had the night before.
'Lestrade phoned while you were asleep.' He looked at John's reflection in the mirror. 'He wants you to come in after one.' Sherlock nodded and carefully taped the gauze down. They caught a cab and Sherlock paid. He had decided he would be nice for a little while. He'd pondered being his normal self, but it just didn't feel right to kick John while he was down. Everyone else would get the normal treatment though. Before Anderson even opened his mouth he shot off a particularly nasty barb and walked on. John followed staring at him in disbelief. He glanced back at Anderson who was still standing with his mouth open staring after Sherlock and snickered.
As it turned out the building was set to be demolished later that day. Something though had gone wrong with the charges and some of them had gone off early. Sherlock was sure that it had been done on purpose. Lestrade looked at him like he was crazy. Mistakes happened. John watched the detective as he bickered. He had to know something he wasn't telling the inspector. It just didn't make sense any other way. He did think it was odd that an explosion had gone off while they were walking down the exact street, one they never used. Sherlock glanced over at John and raised an eyebrow. Lestrade didn't say anything about them looking into the collapse and so Sherlock took that as a go ahead. As always.
- I won't tell anybody. -
'What aren't you telling Lestrade?' Sherlock looked over to John who was leaning forward in the seat. He glanced out the window. 'I got a text for me to meet…' Sherlock looked at John and back out the window. 'You shouldn't have come.' His eyes didn't leave the streets until they were back at Baker Street. John didn't bother asking anything. He knew Sherlock wasn't going to let him in on it. He knew it was about Moriarty. The hesitation in his reply had made it clear. It hadn't been long since the trouble at the pool and so far taunting jabs were all they had received. Or all John had received. Sherlock was obviously keeping things from him.
Sherlock let him up the stairs first. He struggled with the lock. It had been sticking lately. He pushed open the door and leaned against the frame. His back was aching. A burning sensation rolled up and down his spine with each step. He moved into the bathroom and pulled his shirt off slowly. There was a thin line of red running down the gauze. 'Hey come change this.' He pulled the tape off and looked at the scratch. It was red in parts, but looked like it was healing relatively well. 'Sherlock.' He stuck his head out and saw Sherlock reading an email at his computer. He padded down the hallway. The detective didn't look up.
My Dear Holmes, I'd like to tell you a story about a small building at the edge of the city. It had long been a source of distress for me. So I arranged for it to be destroyed. I heard of a young doctor in the area that I knew just had to see it. Alas, I've heard he did not like it. That makes me sad. Perhaps I have something else he would like to see. I could show it to him. Hopefully he'll be a doll and make time to meet in private. But I digress. I have a game for you. If you can win the game I might be persuaded to change my plans for the good doctor. -M.
- They want to push me down. -
Sherlock redressed the wound and locked himself in his room with his computer. He had to figure this out. He couldn't keep stumbling into things. There was no way he'd let anything happen to Watson. He let his head fall against the wall; it hit a little harder than he intended. His hand hugged the back of his head and he sat up. He sighed and stared at the email again. 'time to meet in private.' He would never let Moriarty around John again. He heard John stumble toward the kitchen. The medicine must be getting to him. He stuck his head out and watched as he entered the kitchen and started back toward his room with a glass of water. He slipped back to his bed and listened for the door shutting. He sighed and went back to his investigation.
The morning air invaded his senses. He couldn't remember falling asleep. He rolled over and his computer slid to the bed beside him. It had been sitting open on his stomach. He tossed the papers covering him off and sat up. He couldn't remember what he had been doing before he fell asleep. The floor was cold as he walked to the door. He pulled the door and checked on John before going back to the living room. The doctor was still asleep. Spread out on his stomach. The thick gauze running up his back. As soon as he saw it he remembered what he had been doing.
He set to work and a few hours passed before a text called him to his phone. -Need an update. Lestrade.- He replied and threw the phone across the room. He didn't need any more annoyances. 'You are going to break that one day.' John berated from the kitchen. He'd convinced Sherlock to go to the store and was currently putting away the groceries. Sherlock grunted and continued typing. He looked up at the wall for a few minutes. John could almost see the thoughts running through his head. He flicked his eyes out the window before going back to the screen. The doctor left a plate next to Sherlock and went to his room. Sharp eyes looked down and scoffed. There was only a note. -I know you won't eat anything. Here's the thought.-
- They want to see you fall down. -
Sherlock hadn't left the couch in hours. He was typing away on the laptop. John settled into his chair carefully. His back was sore. It didn't hurt anymore, but the tight feeling of the skin healing was uncomfortable. He nibbled on the sandwich as he read the paper. Ever since the email had come in he'd been pretty much locked down to Baker St. He'd gone down to talk to Mrs. Hudson once while Sherlock slept and the man had gone crazy looking for him when he woke up and found him missing. He hadn't made that mistake again. It was funny to him how worried the detective was. He shifted and felt the skin pull suddenly. A small gasp escaped. He looked out the window, desperately avoiding the inquisitive gaze he was sure he was getting. Another text vibrated the floor where Sherlock had thrown his phone days ago. His phone chirped from his pocket. Lestrade was getting upset. -What is he doing?-
The next day he donned his jacket and stood at the door. 'I'm going for a walk.' Sherlock looked up at him from the floor where he'd ended up the night before. 'Funny.' He went back to whatever he was doing. 'I'll be back in an hour.' He opened the door and felt more than saw Sherlock move. 'You can't go out!' The urgency should have shocked him, but it didn't. 'I'm going down to the park. For some air.' He looked at Sherlock now. 'I need some air.' Something must have shown in his face because the detective nodded. 'Take your phone.' Sherlock crawled after his awkwardly on the floor. Watson chuckled and shook his in the air. 'Got it.' He slipped out before he could be bothered to take anything else. The breeze was perfect. He carried his cane under his arm. His back still ached, but it all seemed to fade when the sun hit his face. He smiled and started toward the park. He heard his phone chirp but didn't check it. He hung his hand in the air letting Sherlock know he got the text before he turned the corner and the flat was out of sight. He sat back against a bench and watched a few birds as they flew and pecked at the ground. This simple thing was what he needed. His phone chirped again. -It has been 37 minutes.- he chuckled and sent a text back. -I will head back in 13 minutes.- He watched the few people in the park. His eyes fell on the details Sherlock had taught him. He hadn't even realized he saw anything Sherlock had pointed out to him until a few weeks ago when he caught himself identifying the little things on a few people sitting in the waiting room at the surgery.
Sherlock heard his phone vibrate. He got a reply but it wasn't from who he expected. -It seems someone has some free time. Shall I talk to him now? Then again… Maybe I'll have one of my associates see that he's happy now. M.- The phone fell to the couch as he ran out the door. He knew John was only a few yards away. He entered the park and turned to where he knew the doctor would be. He always sat on the same bench. Sherlock wasn't sure that John even realized he preferred that bench. He was glad that he did though. He saw John's back as he talked to someone. The man stood a few inches taller than John. He could see the bright red hat on his head. The man raised an arm to John's shoulder, just as Sherlock rounded the last corner of the path. He stopped when he heard a pop. Both men stiffened. The seconds stretched. Sherlock took a step forward as the man with the red hat slumped to the ground. He didn't really know how he got the few feet, but the next thing he knew he was standing before John who was staring straight ahead with specks of blood covering his face. 'Are you ok?' He looked down at the man and knew there was no use checking his vitals. 'John.' He shifted in front of the ex-soldier and dazed eyes followed him, but there was no other response. 'Let's get out of here.' He felt for his phone before remembering he'd left it in the flat. He pulled John's from his pocket and texted Lestrade. The phone rang a few minutes after, but he ignored it. Instead pulled the doctor back toward the flat. John just stared at the hand on his own.
- I won't tell anybody you turn the world around. -
Mrs. Hudson walked back and forth in the kitchen. She was waiting on Sherlock to return. She looked to the living room where John was sitting in his chair staring at the door. 'Would you like a cuppa?' His eyes flicked to her then back to the door. She nodded and started the kettle. The lock rattled and John's eyes narrowed. Sherlock stepped in and slid his jacket off and onto the hook. 'I found something.' John looked up, but didn't respond. Mrs. Hudson brought out a cup and set it next to the doctor. 'I'll bring up some food in a bit.' She nodded to John and smiled at Sherlock, who nodded back. Sherlock sat on the couch and looked intently at the man across from him. 'What is going on in your head?' John's gaze which had been following Mrs. Hudson slowly slid over to Sherlock. If he had been anyone else it would have been an unnerving sight. Sherlock started ranting after he knew that John wasn't going to reply.
He heard the smooth voice. He wasn't really listening to the words coming from the never slowing mouth, but it was the sound. His eyes met the ever changing eyes watching him before dropping to the source of the sound. His mind couldn't grasp how his voice even worked. He let his eyes close as the words started to come into focus. The deep purr rose and fell as sentences formed into a parade of succinct, crisp words. He mumbled something, trying to imitate the way the words in his ears sounded. His voice came nowhere near as velvety smooth. His eyes shot open when he recognized a word. 'John?' He looked at the intense eyes watching him closely. 'What?' He asked, a little irritated with the interruption. A smile flowed across Sherlock's face.
Sherlock could tell that John wasn't actively listening to him. The look on his face though kept him talking. He sat back and kept on like he was talking to his skull. He heard something indistinct and paused. 'John?' He leaned forward. 'What?' he wanted to smack the doctor. He hadn't spoken or even moved on his own for hours and was acting like Sherlock was bothering him. 'A-are you ok?' He hesitated. John gave him a disparaging look and sipped at the tea Mrs. Hudson had left for him. 'I'm fine Sherlock.' The detective smiled as his name circled the room.
- I won't tell anyone your voice is my favorite sound. -
Sherlock was still watching John closely. He wouldn't admit it but he was worried the doctor would slip into the shell he'd seen hours ago. John had made more than enough tea. He sipped at his fourth cup while he typed. He had this feeling that he had seen the man in the red hat before. He glanced at the picture he had taken of a doll sitting under John's bench. He stood up and grabbed the images from the building collapse he'd borrowed from Lestrade. There was a tiny doll with a red cap. It looked just like the man who had died. He glanced up to John who was starting another pot of tea. He sighed and finished his cup in one quick gulp. He had to get the doctor away from the stove, but he didn't know how. Every attempt he made worked for a few minutes then he would reach for a cup and the cycle would start again. 'John.'
He jumped and turned quickly. He hadn't heard Sherlock come into the kitchen. 'Can I have another cup?' John smiled and finished the cup he had just started. 'I have to go out for a bit.' John's grip tightened on the cup. 'Ok.' He smiled and Sherlock tore the cup from his hand. He pulled the pictures to him and sipped at his tea. He finished it and saw that John was now sitting at his chair reading one of the files. Sherlock glanced at the file and winced. It was the man with the red hat's autopsy. He tapped the doctor's shoulder and pointed toward the door. John nodded up at him before going back to the file. He didn't like this closed off version of his partner. His fingers found his phone and he sent Lestrade an urgent text.
There was going to be another victim. The dolls were bread crumbs, leading him to the next. He knew who this doll was imitating. The golden hair and gold jacket was something he had seen too many times before. However he didn't know where the girl would be now. The taxi pulled to a stop in front of the police department. Lestrade was walking in the building as he walked up. 'What did you find?' He eyed the detective, who seemed distracted. He handed the pictures over to the Detective Inspector. He gave the man credit for not asking where he had gotten the images. He could see the dots connecting as he saw the doll. Lestrade glanced over to Sherlock in the elevator. 'This looks like that girl.' Sherlock nodded. The elder man cursed under his mouth as he rushed toward his office. He felt bad that he couldn't remember the clerk's name, but you couldn't miss her in that gold jacket. The only time she took it off was when she was filing. He picked up his phone and started asking where the girl was. Sherlock was studying the board with pictures of the building he hadn't seen. Lestrade made a face.
- I won't tell anybody. -
The girl was due to come in in just a few minutes. Sherlock rushed down. He didn't know what was going to happen to the girl, but he had to stop Moriarty. His thoughts went back to John's face as he exited the building. When he reached the sidewalk he looked around and saw the girl rounding the corner. Her jacket glittering in the sun. He started toward her when he heard Lestrade call him. He glanced at the DI for just a moment when he heard screams. He glanced back and saw a man in black with a lighter looking horrified as the girl started screaming, her jacket aflame. It spread quickly. The man backed away from the girl and started shouting for help. She fell to the ground and her screams faded into moans before stopping altogether.
As Lestrade neared the girl, Sherlock started looking around. He didn't see anybody out of place. He approached the man and started asking questions. The flustered man was a detective. He had been out on a smoke break and saw the girl. He knew she smoked and had simply asked for a light. As soon as the lighter sparked the fire had started. Sherlock started looking around for a doll. He knew there would be one somewhere. As the officials started to focus on the body he started wandering down the path the girl had walked. There had to be a doll. He walked to the end of the block and turned back. Maybe it was further in. There was no way Moriarty could predict when she would light her lighter. He glanced back at the girl. Or was there? He darted in the building and went to find the other clerks.
The only woman he recognized smiled. He was nice to her. She would slip him files when Lestrade was being frustrating. She was shaken when he told her what happened, but answered his questions. He smiled at her and she nodded, her lips quirking into a half smile. She saw another clerk walk by and went to let them know. He started up the stairs to the roof. Apparently she always took a smoke break on the roof before her shift started. Moriarty had made a mistake. He pushed open the door and his phone vibrated in his pocket. He saw the doll sitting on the edge of the roof, like it was waiting for him. He grabbed it and started down the stairs. -That was unexpected.-M-
- They wanna see us fall. -
Walking in Baker Street was more relaxing than he had ever thought possible. Lestrade had berated him with questions after they had taken the girl away. He told him everything he knew. That is, everything except who was doing it. Lestrade had let him take the first two dolls with him after he had pretty much whined for an hour. The shower was running when he walked in. Mrs. Hudson was sitting on the couch. She smiled and pointed to the kitchen. Sherlock sighed and led her out. The counter was lined with tea cups. Half were empty. He poured out the rest and filled the sink with water before dropping them all in. The shower shut off and he heard the door open. 'Mrs. Hudson?' John called. 'I'm back John.' he heard footsteps and snickered at the expression on the doctor's face. 'I do not need to be babysat.' He glared at Sherlock with his hands on his hips. 'Do you realise you are in a towel?' John looked down and then back up to Sherlock. 'I need my cut redressed.' He started back to the bathroom. 'Come do it.' The detective started to the bathroom before he realized he had been ordered and was following said order.
John poked the dolls. They were sitting on the mantle in a row. Sherlock was lying on the couch thinking. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now. He had never seen anyone that looked like the doll. Bright blue hair was all that stood out. He couldn't walk through the streets looking for someone with blue hair. There had to be some other identifying feature. 'It has no eyes.' Sherlock sat up. 'What did you say?' John pointed to the blue doll. 'It has no eyes. All the others do.' Sherlock was next to John in just a second. He stared at the dolls before grabbing the blue one. Its eyes had been removed. He turned to John. 'Brilliant!' He pulled the doctor into a hug before running out the door.
John stared at the door with a shocked face. Had Sherlock just hugged him? He shrugged and went back to the dolls on the mantle. The doll with the red hat had a hole in its head. He was sure Sherlock hadn't noticed. The fact that Moriarty was involved seemed to cloud his mind. He looked at the golden jacket and could barely see singe marks on it. He picked the blue haired one off the ground where Sherlock had dropped it. Everything was black except the hair. He set it next to the others on the mantle and sat down. He still couldn't get the feeling of the man going limp and bits of him splattering on his face out of his head. He felt his phone vibrate. -Come?- he heard the downstairs door open and realized Sherlock had come back.
- I don't need a parachute baby if I've got you. -
John's focus had shifted. He had succeeded in pushing the man's body out of his head, instead he was trying to figure out why it bothered him so much. He was a soldier. He had seen people die much more gruesome deaths. He flashed back to the slight shock on the man's face and felt his face tighten into an indefinable expression. His eyes darted to Sherlock who was just sitting inches away his eyes out the window. His mind started to narrow on the reason why it was bothering him so much. He was home. He wasn't at war anymore. He had been having a rather nice conversation with one of the men he'd seen regularly at the park. A simple old man that liked to feed the birds. Nameless man who had not expected anything bad to happen to him. He hadn't deserved to die. His mind twisted. It was his fault. If that man had avoided John he would still be alive. He thought back to the girl in gold. He had been nice to her too. Apologizing for Sherlock mostly. Had he been the reason for her death too?
The scene outside the window could not completely distract him from the thoughts flying through John's head. His face was changing quickly. Sherlock was sure that the doctor didn't realise he was being so transparent. Eyes flicked to him and he looked away. A quickly darkening expression came over John. When horror started to fill his eyes the detective had had enough. He reached out and took John's clenched hand. He stared at their fingers while mentally willing them to loosen. After a few minutes John relaxed and grasped his hand back. Sherlock glanced up at John who's expression was much lighter, still bothered, but calm. His gaze returned to his window and he couldn't help the smile that curled his lips. A few minutes later the taxi came to a stop.
Lestrade just stared at Sherlock. He was ranting, but clearly wasn't making sense. John gave the DI a sympathetic look. He wasn't even sure if Sherlock was trying to make sense or if he just had to get it all out to bear down on the problem at hand. He stopped so suddenly that the silence shocked both men. They looked at each other than to Sherlock who was standing facing both of them with his eyes closed. 'She has no eyes.' John snickered. 'Sherlock. She's blind.' He had figured that out as soon as he had noticed the missing eyes. Was that really what he was trying to figure out. From the face Sherlock gave him it wasn't. The look said -I know that John. Did you really think I didn't. How stupid of you.- He shrugged and glanced back at Lestrade who was now even more confused. 'What are you doing here?' The DI had obviously hit his limit for being left in the dark. Sherlock mumbled something and looked at John. 'Your phone is ringing.' John finally realized that he was feeling his phone vibrate. He scrambled to get it out and slipped from Lestrade's office. 'Hi?' There was just breathing on the other end for a few seconds and his breath caught. 'Oh. Hey! Sorry. I was distracted. So John… would there be anyway you can come in?' He laughed at the giddy sound of her voice. 'You had me worried.' Sherlock stepped out of the office and stared at him. 'I can't… ' he uttered and hung up the phone before Sarah could say anything else. 'Let's go.' Sherlock walked off and John stuck his head into Lestrade's office. 'Just go.'
- You're gonna catch me if I fall. -
John sat in silence. After the ride home he was certain Sherlock wanted to be left to think. He skimmed an article until his phone rang. He glanced at Sherlock who was buried in papers, his hand never leaving his computer. He took the call and stepped into the hall. 'Can you come in now?' he wondered if Sherlock would notice if he left. He agreed and slipped into his coat before heading out.
A while later and he was finally able to escape his office. He should have gone into help earlier. He stepped out and blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. A blue haired girl was standing at the receptionist counter. She was talking to the girl in hushed tones. The girl turned and he could tell her eyes took in nothing. She walked with purpose out the door. He casually moved behind the receptionist. He pretended to skim the file, but really he was looking for an address. He got it and saved it to memory. Another person walked up and he slipped the file back in. Again his dark thoughts that these were his fault popped up. He sighed and went back to his office. -I have an address of the blue haired girl. JW- He wasn't going to tell Sherlock where until they were together. He knew the detective would dart off and do something stupid. It didn't take long for him to reply with that demand. John was finishing up his paperwork when Sherlock walked in. 'I didn't know you had left.' John glanced up in slight shock before going back to the last signature required. He closed the file and stood. 'I'm glad I'm so important.' Sherlock made a face and walked out of the room as John directed.
The girl lived a few blocks down from the surgery. They walked in silence. Sherlock was searching their surroundings. Sometimes John wondered what he saw. John stopped in front of a non-descript building. They walked in and Sherlock started down the long hall leading to the back. John went to follow him but Sherlock turned around with his hand held up. 'You stay here.' John scoffed and moved forward. 'Stay here. Please.' That request cemented John's feet to the spot. He sighed and waved Sherlock on. He disappeared down the hall and turned out of John's sight.
- Don't believe the things you tell yourself so late at night. -
He saw a bright flash of blue as he rounded the corner. After a few unsure moments where his feet slid he slid back around and raced down the hallway. The blue was gone. He looked both ways and heard a door shut far down the hall. He ran down toward it and hoped that it was the blue haired girl. Again his feet slid as he stopped in front of the door. The thought that these floors were a safety hazard crossed his mind but he swished it away. He opened it and heard light footsteps descending the stairs at a steady pace.
The stairs opened up to a basement floor that had been transformed into living quarters. Bright lights shone from above. Everything was white. It hurt it was so bright. He followed the blue haired girl. She stopped suddenly and turned around. 'I know you are following me. Go away.' He knew she was talking to him. He raised his arms out of reflex and backed away. 'Sorry. I thought you were someone else.' He couldn't believe she had heard him. She turned back and started down the hallway at a quicker pace. She turned the corner and started off into a run. He lurched forward at the sound. As he turned the corner everything went black.
He hit the ground with a loud thump and rubbed his head. Then held his hand out in front of him. He couldn't see anything. He blinked a few times and touched his nose. There still was nothing. He felt around and knew he was still in the hallway. The girl was still running. He could hear that much. Her feet suddenly stopped and he climbed to his feet. He tried to pinpoint where her noise had been coming from but he couldn't. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He heard a squeak and spun around. He found the wall and started feeling his way down the hallway to where he thought he had heard it come from.
- And you are your own worst enemy. -
He groaned and gripped his eyes as the lights came back on. He had been straining to see and the sudden light hurt. He blinked away the phantom lights burnt into his retina and looked around. He cursed under his breath as he saw a small figure crumpled against the wall at the end of the hallway. He heard footsteps nearing him and slid against the wall. He tensed as they started to round the corner. Immediately he relaxed when he realized it was John. 'I told you to stay upstairs.' Sherlock started to the girl. John was only a second behind him. He checked her pulse, but didn't say anything. There was no need. He knew she was dead. There were faint red marks and scratches on her neck. She had fought hard. John was on the phone with Lestrade as he stood up. Sherlock stayed staring at her. How had the girl not heard her killer? He cursed himself. She had been too worried about him that she hadn't been listening for anyone else.
After a little while longer Lestrade was there and was kicking them out. Sherlock got this feeling that people were starting to wonder why he kept calling in dead people. The taxi ride was silent. John held onto the door so tightly it looked like it was hurting him. He pulled out his phone halfway through and checked the time before shoving it back in his pocket. Sherlock knew something was going on with him but the strange look John had given him after returning from the restroom was all he needed to know that this was a 'wait til the flat' conversation.
John walked in and Sherlock followed. The door hadn't even shut when John turned. 'This was on the sink when I went to wash my hands.' He held out a new doll. Sherlock snatched it and started looking at it. It looked just like the others. It wore what looked like a track suit, bright yellow. It had both eyes. He glanced at John when actively checking that fact. 'It was there before you went in?' John glanced up at Sherlock. 'No. I didn't hear the door open or shut, and there was no one around when I came out.' The detective looked at John. He didn't seem scared. He seemed tense. Frustrated, possibly angry. 'Yes. I am. I'm tired of this game.' Sherlock stared as he turned and went into the kitchen.
- You'll never win the fight. -
Sherlock heard the clatter of cups. For a minute he thought that he was going to start his tea making episode up again. 'I know that look by the way. You are trying to figure out what I'm feeling. You look like a puppy trying to figure out how the TV works.' Sherlock caught the face John made as he tilted his head back and forth and snickered. 'I'm sure I don't look like that.' John laughed and started cleaning the kitchen. It looked as if it had exploded over night. 'Can you put anything back where it belongs?' He slowly started righting random items. There was no reply. John's eyes flicked to where Sherlock had been. 'Is your back bothering you?' He jumped and had to fight his hand away from his back where it had been rubbing. Sherlock was leaning against the counter next to him. 'Yes. And yes, normal people still cannot hear you.' He shoved a bag of flour into a cabinet and stood slowly. He didn't know they had flour. He shrugged and went back to the sink where a pile of cups had amassed. He started cleaning and placed the wet cups to the side. Sherlock picked one up and started drying it in silence.
They finished the cups and Sherlock guided John to the couch. 'It wasn't that bad. It should have healed.' John silently lifted his shirt. It ached and itched. There was nothing really wrong with it. His answer had just been reflex. He couldn't deny Sherlock though. He would keep at it until he could check on it. As the fabric lifted the long mark felt immediately better. He made a mental note to sleep on his stomach still. Sherlock poked his back in one spot. He made a noise like he was satisfied and leaned back on the couch. John shifted and leaned over the arm so his back was still free. It didn't take long before he was drifting off. He couldn't deny that the past few days had worn him out.
He felt a slight vibration on his leg and shifted. It came again. He moved again and noticed he was snuggled up against something. He cracked an eye open and caught a the front of a wrinkled suit. The vibration came again and he moved his leg away from where it had been resting. He felt Sherlock move slightly and the vibrating stopped. He heard the phone drop to the ground and the detective shifted deeper into the couch. John closed his eyes. He was grateful that his safety pillow hadn't abandoned him. He knew Sherlock was awake now. The faint feeling of fingers running through his hair quickly lulled him back to sleep.
- Just hold onto me. I'll hold onto you. -
'John. Lestrade is calling again. I think it is important.' John shifted enough for Sherlock to escape and stretched. He wanted to go back to sleep. He sat up still in a sleepy daze. 'No I did not take it.' John glanced up at Sherlock who was rubbing his hair down with one hand while he tried to placate the Detective Inspector. 'Have you looked everywhere?' John snickered. Sherlock glanced to him and a smirk rose. 'Yes. It has to be connected. Maybe this was the last?' Even John could tell Sherlock wasn't trying. Lestrade said something loudly before hanging up. The detective slid his phone back in his pocket. 'Did you sleep well?' John smiled and nodded before leaning back against the couch.
An hour later there was a knock at the door. John had managed to wake up enough to function and Sherlock had changed and looked as sharp as ever. Just before John answered the door Sherlock darted before him. 'Hold on.' He knocked back and one quick knock was the reply. Sherlock smiled and opened the door. 'You've found him.' A quick nod and Sherlock clapped. 'I should have thought of this sooner.' He looked back to John. 'They have found the yellow man.' John nodded slowly. It was too early and he was too tired.
Lestrade was yelling in the phone again. Sherlock was yelling back. John was staring out the window. He was just waiting for Sherlock to finally admit that they had the doll and knew who the next victim was. Lestrade knew. He wasn't a fool. John was tempted to take the phone and confess, but he wasn't sure what would happen. They had been yelling for a solid five minutes and didn't show any signs of stopping. Finally he was fed up. He stood and walked toward the door. He heard Sherlock's rant stutter and finally stop. He mumbled something and John stopped with his hand on the door. 'Where are you going?' John glanced back. 'Tell him so we can go save this poor sod.' Sherlock stared and John opened the door. There was a deep rumble and Sherlock followed.
- Its you and me up against the world, its you and me. -
'He walks this way every day.' The boy said quietly. John nodded and looked back to where Sherlock was staring. He didn't understand why they couldn't just go up and stop him. Sherlock glanced back before returning to his thoughts. John spoke up. 'Just go stop him.' A scoff was the only reply he got. 'What if I get caught in what's planned for him?' John's back throbbed. 'Wouldn't want a building to get dropped on you.' Sherlock narrowed his eyes on John before turning away. He looked very hardly anywhere but the doctor.
'What time is it?' John asked from the ground where he had settled. Sherlock flicked his gaze down and back. 'Check your own phone.' John hit Sherlock's leg. 'It died. How much longer are we going to stay here?' A shrug. The one thing that had slipped their mind was when exactly the man would appear. Suddenly Sherlock stood up straight. 'Oh.'
John leaned over and saw the bright yellow man come around the corner. He walked slowly down the street. Sherlock looked like he was shaking with anticipation. John climbed to his feet. The man walked down the sidewalk and started to disappear behind the building between them. Sherlock started down the side of the building. John followed slowly behind. He still didn't understand why they were being so secretive. The man stopped at a bakery and went inside.
- I don't believe anything, don't trust anyone but me. -
'Why aren't we doing anything?' Sherlock kept an eye on the bakery door but glanced at John. He let out a deep sigh. 'It is just a hunch.' The expression on John's face was unsatisfied. Sherlock's eyes fell back to the bakery when he started talking. 'I had just turned to say something to you when the building collapsed. I had just shown up when the man in the hat was shot, as soon as I got near the golden girl she burst into flames, the blind girl was just a few feet from me when she was strangled.' John just stared at Sherlock. He didn't really know what to say if anything could even be said.
The man reappeared and Sherlock started toward him again. Preventing John from anything he could have said. He reached the end of the street and stepped onto the road. A bad feeling raced up John's spine. Sherlock was still moving. In fact he seemed to have increased his speed. Sherlock was only a few feet from the man now. He heard a car speeding down the road and stepped off the curb. 'Hey watch out.' The car came around the corner, heading directly toward the man in yellow and Sherlock.
John stared at Sherlock. 'WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?' He let the hand he'd grabbed at the last second fall. The yellow man had not been as lucky. He didn't have anyone to save him. John glanced around before checking the man. He was staring at the sky and John could see the life fading from his dark eyes. His fingers fell on his lids and lightly closed them. 'You are not invincible.' He poked Sherlock who was still staring at the man in yellow. He pulled Sherlock's phone from his pocket and dialed Lestrade. 'There has been a car accident.' Sherlock seemed to have hit restart because he was looking around now. 'He's fine. No, no hurry he didn't survive.'
- But I believe you when you say we're never gonna fall. -
Lestrade seemed to have changed his mind on them being at the crime scenes. They weren't allowed to leave this time. John was still angry. If he had been just a few seconds later there would be two bodies. He stubbornly refused to talk to anyone and sat on a curb the furthest he could get from anybody. Sherlock kept glancing at him but he studied the ground before him like he would have to testify on every pebble. A few detectives had failed to get anything out of him. Lestrade sat down next to him and placed a muffin from the bakery on his knee. John took it and ate it slowly. After a few minutes he asked a few questions and John answered them as simply as he could. His anger was slowly starting to fade.
Sherlock was certain there would be another doll. He had given up on finding anything on the man. He knew that the driver had been told to hit the man. It was clear. No one would accidentally speed around a corner hit someone and never even slow. He was sure that it was not on the man. It wasn't in the street. He even went back to the beginning of the street to make sure it hadn't been placed earlier. He was walking by a water drain when he saw something familiar. A black jacket with a furry collar. Sandy hair. 'John…' he mumbled. He grabbed the wet doll and turned around.
'John?'
- Hand behind my neck arm around my waist. -
John blinked a few times. He felt something wet at his feet. He looked around the darkened room and his heart dropped. Another pool. He heard a chuckle coming from behind him. 'Do you think Sherlock will appreciate the show?' John turned and saw Moriarty walking around to the chair across from him. He looked down and noticed he was over the pool. The chair he was tied to was suspended. He pulled at his hands and the chair faltered. His feet dipped further in the water. Moriarty reached behind him. 'No. No. No. Not yet. Behave.' He rose out of the water and the criminal stepped back. 'Sherlock should be here in a few minutes.' A wicked smile crossed the man's face. John stared with a disinterested face. He was weary of everything after the past few days he'd had. 'Oh come now. Be good and cheer up.' A cold finger pushed at his face and he shifted back. The chair faltered and he felt himself spinning forward. He heard a groan and felt arms on his. He stared at the shimmering blue inches from his face. He could smell the chlorine. He felt himself roughly righted. 'No more of that. You'll spoil the fun.' He glared at the seemingly happy man. 'Why are you repeating yourself?' He asked. Feigned shock crossed Moriarty's face. 'I never got to finish our fun last time.' He tapped him on the shoulder. There was a rattle from behind him but no other movement. 'Finally.' He smiled then and took a step back.
Sherlock heard his message alert and snapped forward. He got the text he had been waiting for. No one had seen John disappear. He had been near frantic at the scene, but had fought to stay calm. He opened the text. An address. He knew what was coming next. This game was coming to an end. He didn't think this was it though. There was going to be more this was just the first step. A feint to see what he would do. Moriarty didn't know him very well if he had thought Sherlock would do anything other than rush to save John. There was no other choice.
His hand clenched and unclenched over his knee. He knew it was nerves, but he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. The taxi slowed and he had to blink a few times to make sure he was reading correctly. It was a pool again. He hoped there wouldn't be a bomb attached to John this time. He shoved the memory away and stepped into the darkened building. It was quiet. John's voice in his head added 'too quiet.' He saw a small arrow pointing toward the pool room and he slowly walked down the hall. He still didn't know what Moriarty wanted. He pushed open the second door into the pool room and heard a splash. He looked around but saw nothing. He went to the waters edge and cursed under his breath. A figure that he knew had to be John was a blur on the pool floor.
- Never let me hit the ground you'll never let me crash. -
He discarded his jacket and dove in. He reached John and grabbed his arms. He pulled but he didn't move. He pulled again and John's eyes met his. Something was wrong. He moved down in the water. The chair was chained to a machine. He pulled on the chain and machine, trying to set the chair loose. He lost his breath and quickly ascended after a few seconds of breath he went back down and started on the knots around John's hands. He felt fingers tapping his hand and looked up to John who was motioning up. He loosened the rope enough for John's hand to escape before going up again. He took a deep breath and went back down. John was working on the other knot on his hand. He got his attention and motioned between his mouth and John's. The doctor grabbed him with the prospect of air. It only took one more trip before the knots were loosed and Sherlock was dragging John up to air. They broke the surface and John started coughing in gasps of air.
They reached the side and Sherlock pushed John out of the pool before pulling himself out. John started laughing between gasps for air. 'I didn't think I could hate pools anymore than I already did.' Sherlock looked down at him disapprovingly before snickering. He glanced around for any sign of Moriarty. 'He left a while ago.' John was sitting up from where he had been laying on his back. Sherlock sat down and started to look at his clothes. 'This is ruined.' John started laughing again, gasping a few times. Sherlock didn't know what Moriarty had wanted to prove with all this, but if they were safe for now he didn't care.
Lestrade got a call from Sherlock a few hours later that John was back and was fine. He refused to expand on what had happened. John walked out of the bathroom after showering and Sherlock hung up. 'Lestrade is glad you are safe.' Sherlock smiled broadly. John shrugged it off and went to start a pot of tea when Sherlock stopped him. 'I made some while you were in the shower.' John stared at it and cautiously took it. It was warm and that was all he wanted. The pool and the cold air on their way home had chilled him through. He sipped at the tea and was pleasantly surprised it actually tasted like tea. He sat at the couch and turned on the TV. Sherlock sat next to him and John fought the urge to snuggle into the warmth he emitted. After a few minutes his struggle was ended when Sherlock pulled him to him. 'Your shivering was getting annoying,' he mumbled with a soft laugh.
- You're gonna catch me if I fall. -
Soft breaths rustled his hair. He moved slightly and felt the couch at his back. Once again he was asleep on the couch. He snuggled deeper into the warmth at his side. The arm that wrapped around his shoulder brought a smile to his face. Sherlock shifted and pulled John closer as he did. The doctor could feel himself falling into sleep again. He heard Sherlock's breath evening out. 'People will talk,' he mumbled with a chuckle. He felt Sherlock move, his face buried into John's hair. 'Let them.' The deep rumble sounded far away as the detective fell back to sleep.
- I won't fall out of love, I fall into you. -
END!
A/N:I've been working on this for too long. I started this before series 2. So its setting is kind of wonky. I hope you like it. I'd like reviews. I kinda need to know how I'm doing. I'm slowly gaining this obsession with sleeping Sherlock. Its odd, but awesome. I know that they aren't completely in character; Mori3 in particular but whatevs he's crazy so it doesn't matter. (And the ending reminds me of the end of "drive me crazy" where she asks 'who are we making jealous now' and he's like 'everyone'. I don't really know why though.)
Oh and if you've never heard Ingrid Michaelson you should. :D there are a few of her songs that make me think of Sherlock.