Assault

Sherlock sat on the couch staring in the air, as he always does when he thinks, when John opened the front door of the flat.

"By the way you just shut the door I reckon that you did not get the groceries. What happened? Did you have a row with a chip-n-pin-machine again?" he asked but he got no answer. Instead he heard John going to the stairs. But something was odd about his movement. He was limping slightly, on his left foot and not on his right which could have been caused by the rainy weather outside, and Sherlock could hear him wince when he walked up the stairs. Sherlock stood up and opened the door to the floor.

"What happened?" he asked with concern in his voice. When John turned around the corner Sherlock´s heart skipped a beat. John was soaked to the bones and his clothes were dirt and messy. His left eye was bruising and blood dripped from an open wound just above his eye. With his right hand he steadied himself on the railing while he held his left hand to his right side. He looked up at Sherlock.

"Had a bad day" he said with a faint smile. Before he could drag himself any further up the stairs Sherlock came towards him and helped him, careful not to hurt him. When they entered the living room, Sherlock got a towel and a ice pack for John´s eye.

"What happened?" he asked the third time when John had changed his clothes and dried his hair.

"When I went to get the groceries two men pushed me into a lonely street. At first I fought against them but it was one against two. One punched me in the face and stole my money. The other one kicked me when I was lying on the ground, frustrated that I had not much on me."

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked looking at John who still held his right side.

"Yeah, I am fine. It´s only bruised" said John who noticed Sherlock´s look.

"Can you describe the men to me?" Sherlock asked relieved that his friend was ok.

"Well, they were bigger than me, which is not really difficult. They were wearing hoodies and I couldn´t see much of their faces. The one who punched me had short blonde hair tho and smelled like alcohol. The other one who kicked me had brown hair, I think, and I can certainly say that he was wearing jump boots. I thought about calling Lestrade but I don´t think that the police will catch them. It´s not much that I know about them. I would like to have my wallet back though. There was a photo inside, of me and my troop in Afghanistan."

"Don´t bother calling Lestrade, he won´t find them." Sherlock said standing up and getting his coat.

"Where are you going?" John asked but didn´t stand up to follow him. Every movement was painful at the moment.

"I am going to have a walk."

John woke up when it was nearly dark outside. He must have been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep on his chair. The quiet sounds of the violin made him aware of Sherlock who was standing at the window watching over the street. John yawned and stretched his body. Stinging pain remembered him of what had happened earlier this day and grimaced. When he stood up to go to bed he noticed the leather-bound case on the table next to him. He lifted his wallet up in a frown and opened it. He found the photo which was in one of the pockets. He also found all of his money and wondered how Sherlock got his wallet back. What happened to the men? He thought. Then another thought built in his mind and he smiled, turning around to the door.

The next time we meet Greg he will probably ask Sherlock how exactly the men ended up hit by a car or tripping over a railing and falling off a bridge.

"Thanks" he said to Sherlock and left the room, limping up the stairs to his bed room. He knew that Sherlock wouln´d answer his questions about what happened but that was fine with him this time.

"It was my pleasure" Sherlock said knowing that John wouldn´t hear him and continued his calm and relaxing composition.