So this is the sequel to 'Afraid to Love' and if you haven't read it then I strongly suggest you do because otherwise things might get a wee bit confusing later on. As in, the next couple of sentences. In which case you should probably stop reading this sand go read that. Have you stopped? No? You read ahead at your own peril. Don't blame me for spoilers to 'Afraid to Love' I did tell you to stop reading. If you have read it, thank you for doing so, I sincerely apologise for disappearing off the face of the planet for a while, i will be updating my other stories as well. For starters, this is a few weeks after John is released from the hospital. Also, I'm going to do this from John's view. For a while at least.
Whatever the noise was, it needed to stop. The insistent banging was just adding to my pain. What was it now, two days since I got the letter? Just because my arm s's a little whacked and my stupid leg has decided it wants unnecessary attention does not mean I am incapable of doing my job. Okay, the hand bit may be a problem but I can still shoot. Probably. I'd know if Sherlock would let me near my pistol, but he's decided that it's his turn to take care of me. I find him highly adorable when he tries. (I sincerely hope he didn't hear me thinking that. I wouldn't put it past him).
"Sherlock! I know this is your flat! Stop ignoring me you great wanker!" Oh. Te banging is here for Sherlock. I'm just glad it's not one of Mycroft's men offering "assistance" again. I don't need pity. Idjits.
"Sherlock!"
I sighed and decided I should answer the door. This time. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself from laying to standing. (It was easier if I didn't pause in the middle). Waiting for spots to clear, I felt along the wall for my cane. I can't wait for the stupid shoulder brace to come off. It'd make my life so much easier if I had the use of both hands.
After hobbling to the door, jarring my shoulder each step, I laid my Cain against the wall and opened the door. "What do ya want?"
A man in a fairly run down suit and several police officers stood in front of me, all of them looking embarrassed.
"Sorry, wrong flat." The suit-guy said, looking extremely red in the face. He turned to go.
"No, wait. You're looking for Sherlock?" The man paused and nodded. "This is his flat but he's not here."
"Do you know where he is? And why do you look so familiar?" The man stared at me. If I weren't used to Sherlock's stares, I would find his highly unnerving.
"He's off looking for a case. Have ya got one for him?"
"No. He stole some files, we're here to get them back." The man shifted slightly. "And what's your name?"
"Why do you need so many of you if you're just retrieving files? And I'll tell you my name when you tell me yours."
"Name's Lestrade and we're here for a drugs bust."
I glared. "He's not using. Don't throw his past in his face. It's rude." I slammed the door. Good riddance. Did I want to try the stairs or did I want to go back to the room Mrs. Hudson was letting me use.
The banging on the door had resumed. I sighed and hobbled back to the door. I slipped the chain into place before opening it partially again. "What now?"
"We need to speak to Sherlock." Idjit didn't know when to quit. "I already told you, he's not here."
"What happened to your arm?"
"I got shot. Not that it's any of your business"
"If a civilian got shot then it most definitely is my business."
"No it's really not."
"It really is."
I sighed. There was only one way to do this. "My name is Captain John Watson, MD. I've heard quite a bit about you, Detective, but I find myself unimpressed with you in person. Sherlock is not here, and you will not be doing any more drugs busts to him unless you have a warrant. Now if you don't mind I'm severely in need of my morning dose of painkillers. Sherlock will get into quite a tizzy if you make me miss a dose, ad I'll be the one to suffer because of it. I'd wish you good day but seeing as you'be ruined my morning, I don't think I will."
I slammed the door shut.
