He shut his eyes and felt the change in the air, the subtle whistle of the bullet passing though the space between the gun and the target, the pop and scream as it found its mark.
Most laughed at John and called him lucky shot Watson. Why close your eyes when shooting.
But John didn't need them open to know where the bullet was going.
He had been a marksman all his life from rocks and balls as a child to now a bullet in a gun in the army.
It was this uncanny ability he had to instantly read his environment and know exactly where and how to hold his weapon to get the desired results.
It allowed him to excel in sports. He was an amazing rugby player. And it made him an amazing solider even if he was a doctor first.
He couldn't explain it, his parents just called him lucky his sister was often jealous. But John couldn't help it. It wasn't something he could turn off or get rid of.
It didn't mean he was untouchable. He could find a target not see the future. Though that would have helped on this day, as he moved to the side of a downed solider he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, he looked to see the small hole and the spreading blood on his uniform. The pain was blinding, he couldn't function, and his mind couldn't focus even on his immediate surroundings.
There was the faint sound of distant voices and the sensation of falling, then nothing but blackness.
The shadow moved cautiously down the alley careful not to step in any of the liquid that was forming the trail. Stepping into an unknown accelerant was not a good way to pass the night especially with so many flats in London going up in flames.
The shadow gave a small smile as he eyed his suspect standing in front of the gate that blocked the path, from ground level to about ten feet tall, the long metal poles that made up the gate were set mere centimeters apart not wide enough for fingers to fit though, not that that would help they were smooth and the nearest cross bar sat at eight feet that was 2 feet out of the suspects reach.
The shadow gave another smile as he stepped behind the suspect.
The suspect turned around and backed against the fence.
"Who, Who are you?" the man asked the shadow.
"The name is Sherlock Holmes; I'm helping out the police track down a serial arsonist. Not my normal kind of case but this last one brought about a murder." Sherlock said as he reached down and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"I didn't know anything about no murder!" the man said
"I'd like to try and believe you but, you are trailing an accelerant that we've yet to fully identify and why don't you look me in the eyes and tell me again." Sherlock said with a curt smile
The man hesitated then looked Sherlock in the eye and relaxed.
"Yes I've been setting the fires; the accelerant is one of my own creations. I like fire. I was approached by a guy to help him get rid of a body, he told me the flat and I went to work." The man said
"Who was the man who hired you?" Sherlock asked
"He didn't give me a name he was just a voice on the phone" The man said
"A voice on the phone and you just do as asked" Sherlock mused
"He said if I didn't do it he would kill my mother." The man said.
Sherlock nodded and let go of the man's shoulder and looked away, the man leaned back against the fence then glared at Sherlock.
"How did, I," The man stuttered out.
"How did you freely tell me the truth? It's my gift." Sherlock smirked as more people approached from behind him "Now when Detective Inspector Lestrade gets here you will be placed under arrest for the fire, I will do my best to have the murder charges dropped."
"This the guy freak" a curly haired detective said as she began to cuff the man.
"Yes he confessed to the fire but the body was already dead, I will stop by the morgue and talk to Molly" Sherlock said "Gavin this man is being used by someone. I will look further into it"
"It's Greg, Freak" the woman said but Sherlock paid no attention.
The man they were speaking of, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade approached the man in custody.
"It's ok Donovan" he said to the woman before turning to the suspect "It's a little scary I know, having Sherlock get a confession, your mind just opens up, but let's get you to the station and we will have a chat about this voice on the phone." Lestrade said as he and the woman led the suspect to the waiting car. Lestrade paused at Sherlock. Donovan continued to the car with the suspect "I still don't know how you do it" He said "You never lay a finger on them yet they confess as if their life depended on it."
"You have your empathy and compassion I have persuasiveness." Sherlock said as he began to walk away.
"Oh right your powers, like deduction, and memory, you know can read people's minds" Lestrade said
"I don't read their minds, I can simply make them confess, a gift" Sherlock said digging in his pockets and producing a cigarette which he placed in his lips.
"I thought you quit?" Lestrade said
"Well it looks like I didn't" Sherlock said before lighting it and walking away "I will contact you when I have more on the voice"
With that Sherlock left.
"Freak" Donovan said as Lestrade returned to the car.
"He's not a freak, he's got a gift" Lestrade said
"It's a trick all smoke and mirrors like a psychic or a medium" Donovan said
Lestrade just shrugged and got in the car.
When Sherlock Holmes had first appeared at a murder scene 5 years ago, he was a scrawny strung out junkie who knew way too much about the case to not be the suspect. So they had him arrested, he then went on a long what he called deduction rant with Lestrade and his two supervisors, he used all these minute details to piece together a person's life, or in the case of how they found him, a murder scene. But what happened when they let him out was even more surprising, when they got back to the scene to let him work on the case more he spotted a man lurking, the police brought him and started questioning him as Sherlock said he was the murderer, the man denied it, Sherlock approached the man and looked him in the eye and the man started spilling his cuts, not only about the murder at hand but about many other crimes, the guy was left in a quivering mess. Sherlock said something about not being able to fully control it while withdrawing.
Greg's supervisors appreciated the help but saw Sherlock as a nuisance, can't have a druggie running around solving crimes, so they dismissed him outright.
Greg offered him a couch to sleep on, but his wife wouldn't allow it, so Greg got Sherlock in a small flat. Every once in a while Greg would stop by and ask Sherlock for help on a case. One day he arrived to find Sherlock unconscious, an overdose.
He got him to the hospital and was informed that the hospital had called Sherlock's contact, a bother named Mycroft, Greg stayed at the hospital till the bother arrived. The brother was different, he was well polished, finely dressed and carried himself with an air of importance, Greg would later find out that Mycroft Holmes was one of the top men in the British Government. Mycroft brought with him two women, one called herself Anthea, she was Mycroft's aide and bodyguard. The second looked like Sherlock, her name was Willa she was their younger sister, in town on leave from the Army. She was dressed to the nines as Greg learned that they had been out to dinner.
Greg watched as Willa reprimanded Mycroft, she had been under the impression that Sherlock was in rehab and that is why he had not joined them for dinner. Mycroft was dismissive which annoyed Willa further.
Greg stood and suggested that maybe they calm down before seeing Sherlock, Willa agreed and Mycroft just gave a sneer, thanked the Detective for bringing Sherlock in, then turned to head into Sherlock's room.
Willa turned to Greg and shook his hand letting him know she would make sure he was updated on Sherlock.
Greg thanked her and left. True to her word she kept Greg informed, she shipped off back to Afghanistan shortly after Sherlock left rehab and moved into his new house. But she always made sure to keep in touch.
"Are we heading back sir" Donovan said bringing Greg back to the present.
"Ah yeah, get his statement and process him in." Greg said "Then see what we can get back from Molly about the body."
"Assuming the freak isn't already there" Donovan interjected.
"He's not a freak and he'll be heading home, Willa came home today." Greg said softly
"Home from what?" Donovan asked
"The hospital" Greg said "She's finally got released"
"Oh right I forgot one's a freak and one is mental" Donovan replied
"You should quit labeling people like that" Greg said calmly "Willa watched her fiancé and friends die in front of her during war, she herself was nearly killed, it can mess with a person"
Donovan just gave him a look
"You know it's wonderful to have such compassion and empathy but one day that is going to get you in trouble" She said as they headed to the MET.
Several blocks over, Sherlock entered the block of flats at 221 Baker Street. He paused in the hallway as his landlady Mrs. Hudson exited her flat.
"I am glad you are home Sherlock, Willa took all her stuff down to 221C and is insisting that she stay down there. Said it would be better for her friends. But I haven't had anyone in to clean it, and she shouldn't be doing such work by herself." Mrs. Hudson said flustered.
"If she has chosen to stay down there I am afraid there will be no dissuading her. I will help her clean up though" Sherlock said changing his direction to head to the flat on the lower level.
"You don't even clean your own flat Sherlock" Mrs. Hudson scolded
"Fine I will hire someone to help her" Sherlock replied as the two made their way down the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson pushed open the door to the flat, Sherlock made a mental note to speak to Willa about locking her door.
As they entered the basement flat to find Willa sitting on an oversized sofa that curled into an almost u shape in front of the fireplace, the room was spotless. Willa was talking to someone.
"Willa?" Sherlock asked as he approached he saw she was cradling a small rat.
"I called Mycroft, all I did was ask for some money for paint and cleaning supplies, he sent some people over while Mrs. Hudson was at Mrs. Turners. They were quite efficient. But they were going to kill Gwendolyn" Willa said petting the rat "So I saved her. She likes Cheerios and raspberries"
Mrs. Hudson sighed with a smile as she headed back upstairs; she had been warned about Willa's habit of taking in stray animals. Sherlock wanted to make sure it was ok with Mrs. Hudson before moving Willa in. Mycroft of course had wanted Willa to move in with him but his strict no pet's policy was a no-go for her.
"I could have helped" Sherlock said kissing her forehead.
"You were off catching criminals" Willa smiled
"I brought you some dinner" Sherlock said setting the container down on the table in front of her.
"Thank you. Are you going to have dinner with me tonight?" Willa asked
"No I'm not hungry, have a case to work on." Sherlock said standing.
"Ok" Willa smiled as Sherlock kissed her forehead again.
Sherlock headed up to his flat.
Mycroft might protest but Willa could be left alone, she wasn't suicidal and the nightmares had stopped, she was still quiet, and withdrawn. Mycroft said that she had cognitive issues and that she now had mental damage. Sherlock rebuffed that. Willa had PTSD and that caused her to withdraw, not act like a child, just a shy, introverted adult, the finding companionship in animals was nothing new, at three years old Willa had taken in a squirrel that had fallen and broke its leg. She nursed it back to health and it was her pet. At times he swore Willa could talk to those animals. Like Sherlock and Mycroft could read the world and people around them Willa could do all that plus with the added bonus of being in tune with the animal kingdom.
When she was older she was teased mercilessly for her shy quietness, as a teen she was bullied, it led to an eating disorder with led to a suicide attempt, in her treatment center Willa signed up for the army, Mycroft of course intervened, but when he saw her scores instead of forbidding her from joining, he moved her into a special taskforce under his command.
Sherlock had never been exactly sure what she did for Mycroft, Willa was good at hiding all her tells and clues that one would use for a deduction. And she would never talk about it. All he knew was that it was a close knit team, so close that Willa had become engaged to one of her team members, an Ashton Williams, he was shot in front of her after a new team member went rogue. Willa herself had been shot several times and had nearly bled to death before reaching the field hospital, she spent two months in the hospital and another two in a psychiatric rehab center, she had only resumed speaking in the last week, and when asked she still wouldn't talk about what happened. But the doctors felt it was fine for her to go home, and settle in.
Willa still wore her ring Ashton gave her, and she had already made plans to go up to Coventry to visit Ashton's father and brothers. She said they would always be a part of her life.
Sherlock shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook leading in the hall, he went over and sat in his chair, pulling his knees up under his chin and tenting his hands on his lips.
The voice on the phone, there had been several suspects for several cases recently that had mentioned a voice on the other end of the phone a voice that threatened the life of one of the person's family members.
The person offered to pay well but also knew that these people would get caught so he knew he wouldn't have to pay. But he must have SOME money as the odds of all the suspects getting caught was slim, some of these crimes were taking place inside the city of London, outside the MET's jurisdiction, and the City of London police were not as welcoming as the MET, maybe it was just that Detective Inspector Lestrade's own abilities endeared Sherlock to him.
Many people were said to have great empathy or compassion for others, but Lestrade's went beyond the surface understanding, He could feel a victims fear, he knew the rage of a victim's family member or the nervousness of a witness. It allowed him to say the right things and calm the victims, it also made him understand the criminals more and that made him a good police officer. Sherlock never bothered with feelings or emotions they clouded one's mind. That's why he figured he was the world's only consulting detective and not a real one, that and no one with his drug history would ever be hired by a law enforcement agency.
But Lestrade was the perfect detective inspector, he had the drive for justice and for seeing those who've done wrong or hurt others, and that empathic gift, Willa had compared him to a Betazoid once, Sherlock didn't know what that was and had no desire to watch the television program that it was from.
Lestrade was married, no children, his wife, in Sherlock's professional opinion was a leach and an arrogant woman who used Lestrade for his money, not that a MET salary was great but Lestrade had once been on a track to be a professional footballer, till injury stopped him. He had married at the height of his career, but now his wife was not content with the life she had and was a serial cheater. Sherlock often mused why Lestrade would never leave, but the man was too chivalrous, that and deep down he must have known that while his assets were not the greatest she would take him for everything he had.
Willa called Lestrade's wife a harpy and a shew, and a bitch; she had called Lestrade one day to let him know Sherlock had received his 3 months clean token. The wife answered and berated Willa about calling married men, Willa politely informed her that she herself was engaged and happy and that only a guilty suspicious wife would accuse a husband of indiscretions when she full well knew who Willa was and why she was calling. Willa was never able to call the house again.
When Willa was in the hospital, Lestrade's wife locked him out of the house for two weeks, he crashed on Anderson's couch, for visiting her.
His compassion and not wanting to hurt anyone was hurting him.
Sherlock opened his eyes and picked up his violin and started to play.
At first it was a thief, framed for the murder of a guard, set up after being told of an easy score at The London Dungeon attraction. He got caught and it was his sister that was being threatened. He said the voice promised him over ten thousand pounds through a bank transfer and he would also get to keep the money from the dungeon. That was a month ago.
Last week a counterfeiter, when asked to deliver the counterfeit passports he arrived again at a setup, the house where he was to make the delivery was the scene of a murder, the voice threatened the counterfeiter's daughter, then today the arsonist and his mother. Before the ones with bodies attached most had been small petty crimes, but all the suspects said they were told to do so by a voice on the phone.
What was this mysterious voices end game, what was the point of this game? Sherlock stopped playing and stared out the window.
Was it the police he was playing with or was it Sherlock?
John woke with a start, his shoulder throbbed and his leg ached. Another nightmare, it had been four months the nightmares should have stopped.
But every night it was a different angle, sometimes it was seeing the British Special forces team sprayed in bullets, some it was the bullet striking his shoulder and some, some were John laying helpless on the desert floor, watching a bullet enter Riley's head and Riley going down never to get up.
John had met Riley when the British Special Forces troop he was with set up a base at the FOB he was at in Helmand. They had hit it off quite well as friends and had kept in contact when the base was moved; by the time they met up again in Kandahar they were ready to turn the long distance relationship into a full-fledged one.
Riley's commanding officer was wonderful, she gave them the time alone they needed, how could she deny them when she herself was engaged to one of her snipers.
It was at that point John learned that this team was no ordinary Special Forces team they were kind of a black ops outfit, but they weren't rude to the regular guys like some of the elite forces were, this team was amazing, well, all except for the new recruit that had joined them via Pakistan and Kabul. His name was Sebastian Moran and to call him rude was an understatement. He was constantly trying to undermine the commanding officers not only of his team but of the FOB. And he treated Riley like crap, constantly bullying him. Riley was on the slender side but he was not weak. Riley was strong and it showed in his life as an army medic, John had watching him carry an injured solider across a field while also still carrying his full medical kit. His CO called him her little army ant.
His CO was pretty amazing too, she came from a wealthy family but after some low points in her life she wanted to do something with her life and had joined the army, she excelled up the ranks pretty fast and was given this team not long after joining. She was the first person John met that didn't make fun of his knack for always hitting his targets, she said she understood what it was like to have a special gift and that he should not be embarrassed by it. She then introduced him to Riley with the warning, don't hurt him, he's tiny but he could snap the hulk in half if provoked.
It was love at first site, but it wasn't something they could show, that didn't stop the CO from making sure they got lots of alone time.
John would be forever grateful for the time he had with Riley, but still the memory of watching him die while John lay helpless would always haunt him.
Riley's parents had come to visit John while he was in the hospital. Not much he could say to them, he felt like he let them down. Riley had told them all about the amazing and talented Doctor John Watson, but he wasn't that amazing if he couldn't save his own lover.
The alarm buzzing jolted John back to the present, he looked around the tiny allotted flat, it had been assigned to him by the veterans services to help him transition to civilian life, the bullet in his shoulder and the unexplainable limp had rendered him invalid to continue in his service. But he had a week to find a new place; these flats were not meant for long term stay. He didn't want to leave London, rent was not cheap and he didn't qualify for counsel flats, he was supposed to be getting a job at a hospital of clinic, the veteran's transition team was supposed to help. But all they wanted him to do was a visit a psychiatrist, and all she wanted him to do was write a blog.
So he did the Blog of John H. Watson, a man who nothing ever happened to. Yes he had a wild same sex love affair, yes he had been in war, yes he had been shot, but that ended it that was the extent of what happened. He was normal now, another ordinary boring person who drifted through life. Who in the hell would want to read about that.
A few friends commented but mostly wanting to just catch up, John did not want to catch up with them.
John stood and headed to the shower, he let the water wash over him, he stared down and watched the water swirl down the drain. He stood until the water ran cold before stepping out and getting dressed, he looked though the paper for flat shares, most were out of his price range or in areas of town he didn't want to live.
He put the paper away and looked down at his bare feet, he stood leaning heavily on his cane he went to make his modest breakfast, before sitting at the desk, he reached inside and pulled out his laptop, underneath was a pistol, he stared at it then let his hand caress it before shutting the drawer and opening the laptop. He logged onto his blog and stared, he had an appointment with his therapist later, so he should write something just to shut her up.
He sighed and began to type.
Sherlock and Willa entered the morgue at St. Bartholomew's hospital. Molly Hooper the bubbly medical examiner looked up from the body she was autopsying and smiled.
"Hello Sherlock, Hi Willa, I'll be right over I am almost done with Kirk here." She smiled as she finished stitching him up.
"What brought this poor soul here?" Willa asked looking the body over
"Choked on a goldfish… the cracker not the animal, family still wanted a formal autopsy" Molly said taking off her mask gown and gloves and depositing them in the biohazard bin.
"What an awful way to die" Willa said as Molly covered the body again and started wheeling it the refrigeration wall. "Need any help with autopsies today?" Willa asked
"No sorry, just have the work up on the body from the fire yesterday." Molly said, "I haven't started yet Sherlock but I will be right away."
Sherlock just nodded as he looked at the board on Molly's wall.
"Oh you saw that, I was just going to say I got you a body for your experiment" Molly said she was staring at Sherlock almost like a teen would stare at her favorite actor.
"Good" was all Sherlock said before taking the body tagged for him and heading to one of the other rooms.
"I do have some slides that need cataloguing" Molly said. Willa smiled.
"Thank you" Willa said following Molly to the microscope "I should be trying to find a job, but I still get tired so easily."
"Your body had massive trauma, it's going to take time to heal, and there is no hurry. You're certified to help me here and maybe we can work on an internship based program as a labtech here" Molly said setting out the slides.
Willa smiled "Thank you"
Molly smiled again and headed to the other room, Sherlock was just positioning the body the way he wanted it.
Molly almost shied away, but Sherlock noticed her, now was her chance the chance to ask him out.
She attempted to ask him out for coffee, but he either didn't understand or didn't care and took it to mean she was offering to get him a coffee; he put in his order then went back to setting up the body.
Willa looked up as Molly went to the breakroom.
Willa felt bad for Molly, she was enamored with Sherlock, his mind, his gifts, and with him in general. Sherlock was absolutely clueless to this, entire not that he was stupid, but things like that he just didn't make time for, he cared for his family but love, relationships, that wasn't really Sherlock's thing.
Sherlock had been a quiet child, Willa didn't have too many early memories (at three she had an unfortunate accident that saw her fall down the stairs and windup in a coma for a month) no memories really prior to that, she knew who she was and who her family was, sort of, but nothing else. She remember Sherlock being a lot more lively, but when she returned from the hospital he was quiet, he took great care of Willa, but he and their older brother Mycroft always seemed to fight.
They always argued over who was the smarter one. They had all been tested, at least they told Willa she had been tested once, but she always refused since her accident. Willa hated the fighting and just wanted them to be a family.
As they got older they both got worse, Mycroft became quite snobbish and snooty, and Sherlock, Sherlock became quite the asshole. But Willa could see below that exterior, he was consciously choosing to push people away, he didn't want to get close to anyone, He even became more distant from Willa and their parents, Both Mycroft and Sherlock moved to boarding schools in their secondary school years.
In university Sherlock met someone, and the walls he built had started to fall. He let Victor get close. Victor was the one who started Sherlock's experimenting with drugs. Victor used Sherlock, mostly for sex but he would also send him to work of debts. When Willa and Mycroft tried to intervene Victor beat Sherlock and gave him a bad mix. That was Sherlock's first stay in rehab. The walls went up, and they were stronger than they had been before, he even shut out Willa this time.
It was the push Willa did not need, and what drove her depression to the brink. She went home and ran the bath, climbed in and slit both her wrists with her father's straight razor.
Mummy found her.
Sherlock didn't even visit Willa in the hospital or in her treatment center. She tried to make contact with him. It would start off well then he'd push her way. She was trying to tell him she was leaving, joining the military, but he wouldn't listen.
So she left, and he returned to the drugs. When Willa returned from her first tour, Mycroft invited her out for dinner, she asked about Sherlock and was told he was in treatment.
The anger Willa felt later that night standing by Sherlock's bed in the ICU, she could have strangled Mycroft.
She stayed with Sherlock though his entire hospital stay, and when he wasn't in the hold of the withdrawal he was sweet again, the brother she loved.
He made time to be with her when she was in town and after she was hurt, the first face she saw was Sherlock's
It still confused her why the walls were back up again, not to Mummy or Daddy or her, but to Mycroft and to others, he seemed to let Detective Inspector Lestrade in a bit. Willa knew for a fact that Sherlock knew full well Lestrade's first name was Greg, but still he called him ever masculine G name under the sun. To outsiders looking in it was as if Sherlock was uncaring and was not bothered to remember Greg's name. But Willa saw the sparkle in Sherlock's eyes every time he used Graham, or Gavin, or George. He knew if made Greg chuckle and so he kept it up.
Sherlock had made room for Willa in his flat he took her in.
Sherlock claimed to be a high functioning sociopath, but in reality, he was scared to let anyone getting too close, for fear of getting hurt again.
John made his way through the park, still angrily thinking about his session with his therapist. He almost walked right passed the shorter rounder man calling to him.
John had known Mike Stamford when they were both at St. Bart's, John hadn't seen him since.
"Last I heard you were somewhere getting shot at" Mike said as the two stood on the park path "What happened?"
"I got shot" John answered a twinge of sarcasm wrapped in his tense voice.
John looked away and Mike looked at the ground, John socked at the openness of his reply and Mike with slight embarrassment that his attempt at a joke was not actually funny in the light of reality.
Mike glanced at John's cane and motioned for them to sit at the bench, they talked for a bit, when john opened up about his housing situation mike asked about a flat share.
"Who'd want to share a flat with me?" John asked
Mike gave a giggle
"What?" John asked half crossed and half confused.
"It's just you're not the first person to say that to me?" Mike smiled
"Oh"
"There's a guy who come to work at Bart's sometimes, I think he's still there today, if you have the time?" Mike asked
"Sure that would be great" John said standing.
Sherlock sat at the microscope. He had kicked Willa off of it an hour ago and sent to her to other lab, Molly had said they received a guinea pig by accident and they didn't use them, so she may have been able persuade the lab to let her have it instead of them giving it to a pet store.
Mike entered followed by another man, Mike introduced him as John Watson. Sherlock gave him barely a glance before asking Mike for his phone.
Sherlock liked texting, didn't like the unnecessary human interaction needed in a phone call.
The man offered his phone. Sherlock didn't care why but took it and sent the text he needed, the glanced over the phone. Scratches around the charging port, engraved with a name that was not John's.
"Iraq or Afghanistan?" Sherlock asked
"What?"
"You're a solider recently home from war, somewhere with sun, so Iraq or Afghanistan?"
"Afghanistan" John replied looking over at Mike "What have you told him?"
"Nothing, that's just Sherlock" Mike smiled.
John looked back at the man in front of him, how would he know this?
"I see things that others can't" Sherlock replied not looking up from the microscope he returned to. "While others merely glance or look, I observe."
John just stared at the man, his first impression, arrogant, no wonder he thought he wouldn't find a flat mate, his second impression, alluring, there was something about this man that was very alluring and intriguing to John, not just an air of mystery but also just something so captivating. The feeling was indescribable to John, he didn't know why he felt this way he just knew he couldn't leave.
"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other."
"So you did talk to Mike" John replied
"No Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan, wasn't that difficult a leap."
Sherlock looked up and looked eyes with John, John felt a sudden warmness
"Oh ok" Was all he could manage to say.
"I have a place in central London, My flat mate was my sister but she chose to move into the other flat in the basement of the building, better for her to raise her menagerie of pets she's accumulating, so I need someone to take over her half of the flat share rate, together we could afford it"
"I don't know a thing about you" John managed to say.
Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket, took it out and glanced at it
"Oh look a signal, sorry I have to go, my sister rescued the guinea pig but seems to have over exerted herself, I need to take her home, and I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary"
Sherlock fixed his coat and headed to the door.
"Seven thirty tomorrow, The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street" He said
With that Sherlock was out the door, John just glanced over to Mike who had a huge grin.
"Yes he's always like that, though he does have a soft spot for his landlady, and his sister, she was injured overseas too. Not too sure how, he's not been very open about it, actually he's not very open about much really" Mike said John just nodded "So you going to go meet him tomorrow"
"Yeah, Why not" John said heading to the door. He couldn't explain it but there was something so calming in the few moments they locked eyes.
Sherlock looked at Willa dozing in the taxi, guinea pig squeaking away in its travel cage. He didn't tell her about the potential new flat mate yet, his focus was more on getting her home and in bed, he debated calling her physio therapist but didn't want to over step his bounds, she was exhausted but she wasn't moving well either, he knew she was eager to get back to a normal life, but she was still fragile.
Sherlock always looked out for Willa, ever since she was three and his dog, Redbeard, accidently knocked her down the stairs.
He felt he needed to protect her, and then he failed, he withdrew from the world, and he abandoned her, her joining the military, allowing Mycroft to use her like he did in his private little military task force, were all because of him pushing her away.
Her injuries, in his mind, were there for his fault, and now he would do anything to help. He didn't let a lot of people get close but she was the closest one could get to him, he just hoped she knew that.
Sherlock turned and looked out the window, was he making the right choice with this flat mate, not that he didn't trust Mike's judgement, Mike was a good man. But there was something odd about John, When Sherlock looked him in the eyes he didn't get the respond he wanted. John didn't spill his guts he didn't open up, he simply relaxed. This wasn't a bad thing it just didn't happen often, only ever happened with Mycroft, or Willa or Lestrade, others who had a gift. Whose minds were more well-formed then others. Not well formed as in intelligence but in the development of these gifts.
What was John's gift? Gifts were not something Sherlock could deduce, there were no tells to a gift, it took Sherlock about six cases with Lestrade to realize that he had one, that his deep empathy and compassion was a gift, that he could get into a person's heart and soul like Sherlock got into their mind. His gift was wasted in the police force, they didn't appreciate it. But Lestrade felt his call was to help the innocent to bring those who did wrong to justice, it's like he was trying to be a superhero or something.
Willa had said something once about how great power came with great responsibility. But Sherlock had just waved her off as being silly. They didn't have a power; they had a gift a gift that must be used. Sherlock tried to not use it but he couldn't help it, he tried suppressing it with drugs but that didn't help, in fact it made him unable to control it, if he wasn't careful he could rip a person's mind apart, leaving it scarred. He had done that once, he didn't mean to but Victor wouldn't let go, he wouldn't stop. Victor was never a nice person to begin with but after the incident He was horrible, but big brother stepped in and he was dealt with.
Sherlock smiled as they pulled up to the flat, he gently shook Willa, she mumbled but didn't wake.
He paid the driver and carefully took Willa in his arms, he said his thanks to the driver as the man placed the guinea pig cage in his hand, and headed inside. He carefully took Willa down stairs and laid her in bed, and put the cage on the cupboard next to the Rat cage, He gave them each some vegetable and headed up to his flat.
John sat in front of his laptop; he opened his search engine and typed in Sherlock Holmes. What came up was a website called the Science of Deduction. John opened the website, well if he needed a good read to help him sleep, he could always read the tobacco ash analysis on his mobile.
He shut the website and sighed. What was he getting himself into?
Willa sat at the kitchen table; she carefully cut up the veggies in front of her separating the pieces in to piles, one for Gwendolyn the rat, one for Peter the guinea pig, and one for herself. She was proud of herself, she took the small two wheeled cart Mycroft had bought her to move stuff around and had headed to the Sainsbury down the road and grocery shopped, and she took herself to lunch at Nandos and had a lovely walk back. It felt nice to go out, alone, and just take her time and enjoy herself.
She had heard Sherlock go out around 10am, she left shortly after, and now nearing 7pm he had just returned, there was another voice with him and they were talking to Mrs. Hudson, must be a potential flat mate, Willa smiled, she should go up and see this poor soul that may get himself entwined with her brother.
As she stood pain shot though her leg, she grabbed the table to stay keep from falling, then lowered herself back onto the chair, she gently massaged the tightened muscle. Meeting the guy would have to wait.
Mrs. Hudson scolded Sherlock as she entered the flat.
"You sister is only moved downstairs two days ago, how did you manage to gather so much clutter?" She said exasperated as she shook one of the curtains "and gather so much dust"
"It's for a case Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock smiled.
John looked around; it was a very nice place, even if it was a little cluttered with some old library books on the couch and newspapers on the floor. The mantel had letters pinned to it with a knife, next to the letters…
"It that a skull?" John asked
"Yes friend of mine." Sherlock said he started to talk again but was cut off by Mrs. Hudson.
"What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms" She smiled
"Of course we'll be needing two" John replied quickly. Why wouldn't they, he'd only met this man in front of him yesterday, in a morgue lab, this man who when he looked in his eyes made him feel calmer then he had felt in months, no years.
Mrs. Hudson was still talking, something about another landlady having married ones, married ones of what? The older lady disappeared into the kitchen with a disapproving sigh at the sight of what looked like the upper half of a store mannequin sticking out of the sink dripping some odd green slime.
"I looked you up on the internet last night, found that deduction site of yours. Do people actually respond to you?" John asked
"Sometimes" Sherlock said "what did you think?"
"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." John said half in disbelief half amazed.
"I read you, your career, just from you standing in front of me, right up to the fact that your therapist is right it is a psychosomatic limp" Sherlock said looking out the window.
John gave a glare to Sherlock as he settled himself in to one of the chairs; this one faced the windows back to kitchen.
Mrs. Hudson asked Sherlock about the recent string of serial suicides, Sherlock just turned and face the door as it opened to reveal a man, about six feet, brown hair that was starting to grey.
John had seen him in the papers. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, He was the one leading the investigations into the serial suicides, there had been a fourth and this one had a note.
Sherlock seemed to light up, as if he was told the greatest news in the world, not that someone had died.
He paced the room a little asking about whom from the police was working the case; john couldn't take his eyes off of him.
Sherlock fluttered about, excited, said it was like Christmas, Told john to make himself comfortable, and he left.
Mrs. Hudson said something about resting his leg, John snapped, didn't mean to raise his voice to the older lady, she had already been so nice. It's just he'd gotten so caught up in Sherlock's excitement to only to just watch this fascinating man leave and him sit here, cane and all.
"A doctor, an army doctor" Sherlock said from the door way "You any good"
"Very good" John smiled
"See a lot of trouble and violent deaths" Sherlock asked, john just nodded "want to see more?"
"Oh god yes" John said practically jumping out of his chair and following the man.
John sat in the cab heading to the crime scene. As he and Sherlock talked, while Sherlock explained how he deduced everything about John, John couldn't keep his eyes off of Sherlock, his eyes, this sort of greeny gold that sparkled in the streetlight, and his lips, his lips were John's favorite.
As they arrived at the crime scene, John did have to correct Sherlock on one thing, Harry was short for Harriet. Sherlock was still impressed with his own accuracy.
John just looked around the dark street, the block of flats that were taped off, and wondered why the heck he was even here.
Sherlock didn't seem to be in the answering mood, instead he was making deductions about two of the police officers, basically revealing to anyone around that the forensics guy, Anderson, was cheating on his wife with Lestrade's Detective Sergeant, Donovan.
John got the impression that Anderson and Donovan didn't like Sherlock.
That fact was further confirmed as John watched Sherlock work.
Litany of facts/deductions, delivered in a condescending tone. He was more condescending to Anderson then he was to Lestrade. Lestrade though did seem more open to Sherlock's methods.
Then suddenly as they had arrived Sherlock left.
John just looked around the room then down at the body again. Then seemly ignored by everyone else John made his way down to the street.
Donovan informed him that Sherlock had gone. And that he did that quite often. It was like she was trying to get John to see Sherlock as she did.
While John was mad that he had been abandoned in Brixton, he was still processing all he had seen. He had read how brilliant people, geniuses were often absent minded. And Sherlock was brilliant, maybe a genius. And he had only JUST met John, so being absent minded was fine.
John started heading down to the main road, once there he began the sometimes difficult process of hailing a cab.
As he walked the payphones around him were ringing. Exasperated John finally answered one.
This led to a long trip to an abandoned warehouse, and a well-dressed man with a pompous attitude, who was trying to get him to spy on Sherlock.
John refused, he couldn't put into words what he was feeling, or what his reasoning was, but he was not going to spy on him, and he was not going to turn and run.
The man was kind enough to let John stop by his other flat, before being dropped off at Baker street.
Sherlock had text to come at once.
They had stopped by the bed sit so John could get his gun. Something in the back of his mind told him he would be needing it.
The car stopped in front of 221 and John got out. He entered the apartment to find Sherlock on the couch, eyes closed and his right palm resting in the crook of his left arm.
Sherlock stretched out his arm and removed his had to reveal 3 round nicotine patches.
"They help me think" Sherlock said without opening his eyes. "It's hard to maintain a smoking habit in London these days. That coupled with the fact my sister shouldn't be around smoke, though I have had a few when out"
"Better for your health too" John said "Wait is that three patches?"
"It's a three patch problem" Sherlock said sitting up.
He explained that he had text John to come at once as he wanted to use John's mobile to text to try and draw out the murderer. He didn't want to use his own mobile as the number might be recognized from being on his website.
John did as told and was even more confused. He tried to tell Sherlock about the encounter with the man in the warehouse, Sherlock seemed unfazed.
John was starting to get a little annoyed, at being basically a replacement for an inanimate object Sherlock usually talked to and a bit aroused, Sherlock's energy was like a pheromone.
John backed Sherlock up against the wall and kissed him hard.
Sherlock was shocked at first but then reached up and but his hand on the back of John's head and held him close, returning the kiss and slipping his tongue into John's mouth sweeping it along the roof of John's mouth and under John's tongue.
John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's lower back and started guiding him to the couch. As he did the door opened.
"Sherlock I was thinking." The female voice started.
John pulled away and stood looking at the floor as Sherlock jumped up.
"I'm sorry" Willa said "I'll go"
"No, no, Willa this is" Sherlock started as John turned
"JOHN!" Willa said hurrying over
"Willa!" John said his embarrassment turning to a smile as he hugged her close
"You're alive"
"Thanks to you" She smiled hugging him again. "You're Sherlock's new flat mate, this is amazing. Sherlock, John is the one who saved my life in the field. He kept applying pressure even after he got shot. He was also one of my best friends over there"
John smiled
"I'm sorry I missed Riley's funeral, I was still in the ICU" Willa said giving John another squeeze
"It's ok, I missed it too. And Ashton's" John said as Sherlock guided Willa to the sofa.
"How far did you walk?" Sherlock asked as he elevated her legs
"Just to Sainsbury and back" Willa replied
"That's too far Willa, if you needed groceries Mycroft or I could have gone." Sherlock said as he went and started boiling some water and dug around the kitchen for the hot water bottle he knew was there somewhere.
"I'm not a shut in Sherlock" Willa said upset.
"No but you are still healing" Sherlock called back.
Willa looked up at John.
"Sorry about being a cock block" She said
"It's fine; really, I think I just got caught up in Sherlock's energy and excitement." John said, and it was true, he really didn't know what compelled him to make a move, a sexual move so close after Riley's death.
"I was going to take John out to stake out for the murderer, but maybe it can wait one more night" Sherlock said bringing the water bottle and resting it on Willa's upper leg.
"People's lives are at stake Sherlock, and I'm fine I can take small walks." Willa said she was upset and embarrassed.
"Willa your femur was shattered by bullets, your leg was actually torn to shreds and you almost lost it, you had four, four infections while in the hospital and three bone grafts, and they had to rebuild your femoral artery, you only got out of a wheelchair last week. You need your rest." Sherlock said as he adjusted the pillow under her leg.
John watched and frankly seeing Sherlock enter this caring protective mode, it was really turning John on again.
"Four people dead, you contacted the murderer. Go and work the case Sherlock!" Willa said practically shoving him to the door.
"Fine, but you stay here and don't move." Sherlock said getting his coat.
"Fine" Willa smiled "You and John go have fun, catch some bad guys"
Sherlock kissed her forehead and he and John headed off.
On the street Sherlock looked at John.
"Problem?"
"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan."
"What about her?" Sherlock said with exasperation as he adjusted his scarf
"She said ... You get off on this. You enjoy it." John said
"And I said "dangerous," and here you are." Sherlock said matter of factly.
John sighed it was true.
"You have many faces." John said as he followed Sherlock "The one you show me, which is similar to what you show Mrs. Hudson. The one you show Willa, and the one you show the world"
"I interact with others based on their own personalities" Sherlock said "I am who I am"
"And yet I can't tell exactly who you are" John said
"You will" Sherlock smiled as they approached their destination a restaurant called Angelo's
Sherlock led John in and the owner himself came and served them. Sherlock had got him off a murder charge.
Angelo called John Sherlock's date, John just smiled, and what a great first date, waiting for a murderer.
The food came and Sherlock alternated between watching John eat and watching their targeted building through the window behind John. John tried to pry more out of the man, but for being so open to near shag back at the flat to now sitting almost silent, like a bird of prey surveying the land. But Sherlock didn't correct Angelo when he called John his date and from what John had already seen so far, Sherlock enjoyed correcting people when they were wrong.
John had only been looking for flat share, but to find another relationship, John didn't think he was ready, but as Sherlock looked up and locked eyes with John, John calmed and smiled.
He brought attention to a taxi. Said it was very clever. They watched for a moment then they were up, and out.
They chased though the streets trying to catch the taxi, vaulting over cars and jumping gaps between buildings along the way.
All to catch a guy recently arrived from LA in the back of the taxi. Sherlock flashed an official looking warrant card and sent the man on his merry way with a welcome to London.
As they left, John took the warrant card from Sherlock.
"This is Lestrade's" John said looking up at Sherlock.
"I pickpocket him when he's annoying" Sherlock said with a small smirk.
They looked to where a real police officer was interviewing the cab driver.
"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked
John nodded and the two took off down the road.
As they neared 221 Barker Street John looked up at Sherlock.
"That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever done" John said with a smile.
"And you invaded Afghanistan" Sherlock smirked.
"Well not just me" John smirked as Angelo walked up.
"Here you left this behind" Angelo said handing John his cane.
John just smiled and looked at Sherlock.
"Guess I'm moving in" John smirked as they entered the flat.
"Mrs. Hudson John is taking the Room" Sherlock called.
The landlady came out from her apartment, she was flustered
"Sherlock what have you done" She asked as they heard clattering upstairs.
The three took off upstairs. There were police officers searching though the flat, and Detective Inspector Lestrade was in Sherlock's chair lounged out like he was at a club. Willa was still on the couch.
"I told them I was forbidden to move and unless Lestrade wanted to carry me downstairs, I was staying put." Willa smiled
"I know you found the case" Lestrade smirked.
"You can't just break into my flat" Sherlock retorted
"I didn't break in, it's a drugs bust" Lestrade smiled.
John just looked between the two
"You won't find any" John said
"Shut up John" Sherlock replied
John just looked at Sherlock.
"Come on you" John said
"Shut UP" Sherlock said though gritted teeth.
John just stared. Willa tugged on his sweater and pulled him down next to her on the couch and whispered in his ear to just drop it Sherlock would tell him more when Sherlock was ready.
John nodded as Sherlock reminded Lestrade that he was not a sniffer dog for he MET.
"No, Anderson is my sniffer dog" Lestrade said as one of the men in the kitchen turned and waved. "They all volunteered" Lestrade said with a smirk, He looked over at Willa who just glared and Lestrade's smirk disappeared.
"There are human eyes in the microwave" Donovan said peeking out
"It's for an experiment" Sherlock replied with exasperation. He started to pace.
"They will keep this up or you can help us properly" Lestrade said
"This is childish" Sherlock snapped
"NO this is OUR case and you can't be withholding evidence, that is illegal" Lestrade replied
"And a pretend drugs bust is your response" Sherlock asked
"Not pretend if we find anything" Anderson said digging thought the cupboard again.
"I AM CLEAN!" Sherlock said "I would never do that now not when I am caring for my sister. I don't even smoke. Had my last one a few nights ago."
Sherlock pulled up his sleeve to reveal on of the nicotine patches.
"Neither do I" Lestrade smiled pulling up his own sleeve to reveal a patch, Sherlock just rolled his eyes. "We work together"
Lestrade told Sherlock how Rachel was Jennifer, the 4th victim's daughter; she was still born 14 years earlier
"Why write that name then" Sherlock mused
"Hey didn't someone say that the case would be found with the murderer" Anderson spoke up as he entered with the case "and it's in the hands of our favorite psychopath"
"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." Sherlock snapped back facing Lestrade again.
Willa moved from sitting on the sofa to laying down on it. John kept one eye of the conversation.
His favorite part was Lestrade agreeing with Sherlock that Anderson had to turn and face the corner, and Sherlock telling Anderson that when he spoke he lowered the IQ of the Entire street.
John also checked over Willa, she was warm, a fever.
"I'm fine John" Willa smiled "Really, I just get warm when I'm tired"
John just nodded.
Mrs. Hudson had been flittering in and out something about a Taxi waiting.
Sherlock was logging on to a mobile phone tracking site, logged on and looked to see where the mobile was. It was at 221.
John verified it.
The police just sighed and started packing up.
Sherlock paced and then he was gone.
John tried dialing the phone, nothing.
Lestrade sighed again and Sally remarked about a wasting their time.
John offered to check again but they left, Lestrade giving his apologies to Willa, she just gave a small nod and watching him leave. She liked him; John could tell by the way she looked at Lestrade. Probably the same way John looked while looking at Sherlock.
John looked at the screen again. The phone was moving.
The phone the taxi, the taxi outside, now was moving.
John grabbed his coat and was out the door before Willa could even ask what was up.
And that is how John saved Sherlock's life.
He traced the phone to the building, then went looking, he thought he was too late, he could see Sherlock and the taxi driver thought the window in the other building. He took out his gun, there was the pole and the thick window frames in the way. John raised the gun, and pulled the trigger, the taxi driver fell. John made sure he got out of there quickly.
John watched the scene from behind the police tape. Sherlock was sitting in the back of an Ambulance orange blanket around his shoulders. Lestrade was next to him. John could just make out what Sherlock was saying, he was telling Lestrade about the shooter. Sherlock looked and saw John standing there, Sherlock stopped talking.
" Actually, Ignore me." Sherlock said walking away from Lestrade
"Sorry?" Lestrade asked thrown off buy Sherlock's sudden deviation
"Ignore all of that. It's just er, shock talking." Sherlock said trying to get ahead of the detective inspector
"Where're you going?" Lestrade asked glancing over at John
"I just need to talk about the-the rent. You know new flat mate things and such" Sherlock replied
"I've still got questions for you." Lestrade said getting annoyed
"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" Sherlock irritatedly replied wiggling the corner of the blanket in Lestrade's face
"Sherlock!" Lestrade called as Sherlock kept walking
"I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less." Sherlock said "And besides we all left in a hurry Willa is home alone and probably very worried from the amount of buzzing my mobile is doing"
Lestrade sighed and waved him off with a promise to see him in the morning to talk more.
"Nice shot" Sherlock said quietly
"I beg your pardon" John asked with feigned shock
"All those obstacles and that distance, and yet the bullet found it's mark…. Of course that is your gift" Sherlock smiled and looked at John.
"Since as long as I can remember… I don't miss" John smiled.
"Are you alright after killing a man, not on the battlefield?" Sherlock asked
"Well, he wasn't a nice man" John said "And a bad cabbie"
"Dreadful you should see the route he took to get here." Sherlock said
The two looked at each other and giggled
"We can't giggle this is a crime scene" John said trying to stifle another giggle looked up to see the well-dressed snob getting out of a car "That's the guy I told you about. from the warehouse"
"Ah yes, Mycroft, he's Willa and I's older brother" Sherlock smirked
They stopped for a small chat before Sherlock just kept walking.
"Dinner?" He asked
"Starving, but what about Willa" John asked
"I already text her before the police arrived. She requested that if we go out, we bring her ice cream" Sherlock smiled
"So dim sum?" John asked
"I can always predict the fortune cookie" Sherlock smiled
"NO you can't" John said
"We can try and you will see" Sherlock smiled again "So in Afghanistan were you actually shot or what?"
"I was, in the shoulder" John replied
"Ah ha I was right, the left one" Sherlock chuckled
"Willa told you" John replied
"Will doesn't have much memory of what happened, she knows you were there but then you left." Sherlock said
"I got her on the E-Vac truck and then was loaded up on the next one myself" John said as they neared the small Chinese place.
Sherlock sat at his lap top, John and Willa (having finished her ice cream) had long gone to bed. Sherlock looked over notes and articles.
This was the answer, to the voices on the phone and to the cabbie's behavior, and to many other cases and questions Sherlock had.
Moriarty.