Lestrade watches as Sherlock's new flatmate watches him go over the crime scene. Most people, when they watch the detective, don't have that look on their face. It's usually disgust or revolt or reluctant fascination. Never has someone looked so fond as they watch the man.
Of course Lestrade suspects there is something different about this one. Never before has a flatmate accompanied Sherlock to a crime scene. Well... there was one. But he freaked out and was gone by time Sherlock was done with the case.
This one was standing around smiling about it. As if Sherlock being too delighted be the crime was a good thing. Something to be happy about instead of appalled.
Then again the DI was fairly share there was something off about him. A loose screw upstairs so to speak. Either that or Sherlock was rubbing off on him at an alarming rate.
"Care to share the joke?" he asks, coming up to stand beside him.
"Nothing." John shakes his head. "Just a good day is all."
Lestrade looks up at the cloudy sky that threatens to rain any minute to the dead body not six feet away. "If you say so mate."
"What? You don't agree?" John asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
The expression looks eerily similar to his flatmate's. Lestrade can't help compare the two men. At first they seemed like two opposites. Dr Watson had seemed so sensible. But the more he got to know him, the more similarities he saw between the two.
There had to be something. The bloke had been living with him for three months now and hadn't shown any signs of bewilderment or discontentment. In fact the was a distinct air of affection when he looked at the detective.
Lestrade wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Not that he wanted Sherlock to be alone or to not have any friends. But he was always sure it would take a saint to put up with the man without any real break. Lestrade liked him, but he sure as hell wouldn't live with him.
Either way they made a fantastic team.
Now if only he could figure out if they were shagging yet or not.
You still owe me dinner- I
When and where?- SH
You tell me handsome- I
John is going to strangle that bloody idiot one day. He is. One day Sherlock is going to do something so incredibly stupid that John will kill him so he won't have to put up with it anymore.
Really.
Take the latest incident for example. The woman who has nearly gotten you killed twice and faked her own death once texts you asking you to dinner. Do you accept?
No.
Does Sherlock accept?
Naturally.
Bloody git. I know he doesn't have any self-preservation, but really? It's painfully obvious that, in this case, you can't teach an old dog new tricks.
John sighs as he watches from across the street as Irene flirts and Sherlock pretends that he's oblivious to it. No one knows he's there as he is currently invisible. Or no one but Sherlock. John is fairly sure the detective knows he's watching from somewhere.
Because there is no way he is letting Sherlock out of sight with The Woman hanging around. The bastard knows it too so he's been trying to locate him for the last fifteen minutes. It's rather amusing actually.
Of course if he's honest with himself, that's only one of the reasons he's watching. The other is that it's damn entertaining. Irene can brag about how she gets the last word in when she texts Sherlock all she wants, but it doesn't mean as much as she thinks it does. It certainly doesn't mean she has a shot at him.
And speaking of texting.
The bakery across the street.- SH
No- JW
The shop next to it.- SH
Nope- JW
The cafe beside this one.- SH
Guess again- JW
I DO NOT 'guess'. I deduce.- SH
Those are the three most logical choices.- SH
S it doesnt have to be logical I can be standing it the middle of the street if I wanted- JW
Grammar John.- SH
Unfair. It doesn't count. Not enough data.- SH
Whatever you say genius- JW
This is dull.- SH
Then you shouldnt have agreed to meet her- JW
Last time she was much more interesting.- SH
Yeah because people were trying to kill her- JW
Join us.- SH
Why- JW
Bored.- SH
Then leave- JW
Rather have you here.- SH
Besides you like to mentally gloat about how she'll never have me.- SH
Bastard- JW
But John sighs, walks down an alley and emerges once again visible to the human eye.
Sherlock smirks when he walks over to their table. "John," He greets, "what a surprise."
John keeps his eye roll mental. "I'm so sure. Mind if I join you?" He sits without waiting for an answer. "Irene," He nods, "how are you? No one trying to kill you lately I hope?" So.
She smiles charmingly, if a bit tightly, at him. "Oh no. I've been in Greece, it's lovely this time of year."
"So glad to hear it."
"Sherlock was just telling me about a fascinating case."
"Lovely."
"Oh yes. There's nothing like a little blood and guts to get a girl excited." She winks in Sherlock's direction.
"Only idiots think the more blood involved, the more interesting the case will be. It's about cleverness not creativity."
Sherlock's phone goes off. He quickly reads the texts, then flashes a grin at John. "Speaking of such. Come John, the Game is on." He gets up and goes to flag down a cab.
"Not gay hmmm?"
John looks at her. "Still not. You?"
"Of course." She looks him over carefully. "I'm happy for you. He is a wonderful man." The smile she gives him is even real.
She's not half bad at times. Now if only she would stop putting my ward in danger and flirting with him so much.
"Come on John!"
John laughs. "Yes. Yes he is."
John lets out another contented sigh as Sherlock runs a hand through a more sensitive part of his wings. He knows Sherlock is smirking about it even without looking. As if it's hard to turn him into a puddle of bliss when he insists on doing this.
And that doesn't sound odd at all. Then again, it goes along with everything else in my life. It's only when something seems normal that you have to start to worry.
This had become a thing for them after the first time John had shown Sherlock his wings. It happened about once a week, depending on the cases Sherlock was working on.
They cleared the middle of the living room and John laid down, stretching his wings out. Sherlock would runs his fingers through both of them until he got bored. This usually took a while as Sherlock loves his wings.
That and he loves that he can get this reaction out of me just by doing this. He snorts quietly to himself. This is basically our version of sex. It also had the benefit of keeping Sherlock entertained. Which is always a good thing.
The one consistency was that they never did it when Mrs. Hudson was home. John really didn't fancy having a conversation as to why one of 'her boys' has giant wings coming out of his back. Having Sherlock know he is a guardian angel was enough. No one else needed to know.
Of course things never work out how you plan for long.
"Boys, I'm back from Mrs Tuner's. Would you like-" She stops as she opens the door. John can only imagine what this looks like. Sherlock is straddling his back, hands buried in his left wing, near the base. "Oh my..."
"No tea right now Mrs. Hudson, but thank you for the offer."
John turns his head to see the charming smile he gives her. "Shocking as you using good manners is, I doubt that's enough to distract her." He informs him drily. Although it will cover a multitude of other things at times. The shock is just so great. The thought is much too fond.
"You did say you have all kinds around here." Sherlock reminds her.
John reaches up and hits the closest thing he can reach- Sherlock's knee. "Be nice. You know very well that's not what she meant." Of course some of the fondness leaked into his tone so it wasn't as effective as it could have been.
"It's alright dear. Just a bit of a shock is all."
God bless such sweet landladies. "Still, I'm trying to teach him manners."
"Humph."
"You can imagine how well it's going."He turns to look at the man. "Are you going to move you daft git or are you going to keep sitting on me?"
"I am not finished with your wings." Sherlock declares and goes right back to stroking them.
"Ok then." He smiles at her. "Hello, I'm John, this nutters guardian angel."
Mrs. Hudson just looks at the two of them for a long moment before smiling softly. "Lovely to meet you. I'll leave you two alone now. If you need anything just call. But remember I'm your landlady not your housekeeper."
John leans against the wall and watches as Sherlock examines the scene before him. He has a look of supreme concentration on his face. He has already done his part- given the cause of death. Now he gets to stand back and watch.
The man is magnificent to watch like this- all wild energy and inappropriate delight. At least neither of us are giggling yet. Anderson and Donovan have already decided I'm as bad as he is. No need to confirm it.
Speaking of them, John turns to find them staring at him. Again.
They had been doing it since they arrived. Usually they looked away quickly if John glanced at them. But if he catches their eyes, they look like deer caught in a headlight.
This was their first case after that disaster with the three Princes of Hell. Lestrade was doing a decent job of acting normal. Those two not so much. He's tempted to snap 'Take a picture, it'll last longer' purely for the enjoyment of their faces.
It was clear they are terrified of him. They had never given him any real trouble, just questioning looks that said 'You're still here?'. Now they look at him with wide eyed respect. And, more importantly, haven't made one comment against Sherlock. Not even an eye roll or a disgusted snort.
Nothing.
And if it stays like that, it'll be almost worth having them know who I am. Having them under the illusion that I'll smite them if they annoy me too much makes for a peaceful crime scene. I just might reinforce the idea for them.
He raises an eye brow and they turn away quickly. He turns to look at Sherlock to find the man is watching the scene play out with obvious amusement.
"What have you got?" Lestrade asks him.
"It was clearly the sister."
"Oh yeah? How can you tell?"
Sherlock launches into a detailed explanation about something 'so simple even Anderson should be able to figure it out'.
John watches Anderson's face turn red, but he doesn't protest.
Oh yes, I will be most definitely encouraging this.
"Come John." Sherlock orders when he is done.
John follows, but not without flashing a final look in Donovan and Anderson's direction. Sherlock smirks, but doesn't comment. He hails a cab and they travel home in companionable silence.
It's only when they get to the flat that Sherlock turns to John. "Have fun?" He inquires.
"Loads. The silence was very refreshing."
"Yes, I saw you intend to keep it that way too."
"Of course. Did you see their faces?"
They look at each other and burst out into laughter.
"Sherlock, I'm home." John calls, walking in the door after he finished his shift.
The lights are off and the flat is silent. John knows he's here because he can sense him. "Sherlock." He calls again.
No answer.
He enters looks around the living room and finds it empty. So is Sherlock's old room. When John climbs the stair to their bed room, he finds the detective. Or rather, the detective shaped lump under the covers of their bed.
"Love?"
He doesn't answer.
John pulls the covers down to find Sherlock's eyes tightly shut and jaw clenched.
"Oh love." Now that he understands what's happening, he acts quickly. He strips down to his pants and climbs in under the blanket, pulling back over top of them. Sherlock turns and hides his face in his shoulder as he tries to block out the world. John runs his fingers through his hair, massaging his head gently.
A headache is the cause of this. Normal people get them, take some Advil and go about their day. Not Sherlock.
When he gets one, it leaves him useless until it goes away. It's because his shields are down. Sherlock's brain never stops- always observing, always deducing. It's sorted between relevant and irrelevant. But when he gets a headache, he can't sort it. The excess information makes the headache that much worse. The only way to deal with them is to block out as much as the world as possible and wait them out.
Before, this was torture for both of them. Sherlock because no one cared enough- or at all- to help the crazy genius. John because he couldn't do a damn thing to help him ward. It became much easier once John became human. Sherlock would curl around him, focusing solely on him. Just like when he reassures John, they found that skin to skin contact helpful. Less data to deduce.
John continues to rub Sherlock's head. "Go to sleep love. I'll still be here when you wake up."
Sherlock nods and not long after his breathing even out.
John smiles gently. "Night love."