001. Beginnings

John falls into his new bed and exhales slowly. He is so tired that he could pass out any moment but the rest of the adrenaline in his blood is preventing that. He can't remember when he's been that exhausted. Well, exhausted from actually doing something. He usually just feels tired, tired of everything around him. But tonight he's truly exhausted because he had been basically running for two days non-stop. And happy, and he can't remember when he's been that happy either.

He knows he really shouldn't, should feel bad, because he shot a man. But he really can't bring himself to do it. Instead he floats on this cloud of happiness. That he's had bit too much to drink certainly helps with that.

Looks like this is what his life will be from now on. Because he moved in with a complete madman, even if it's a brilliant one. Sherlock Holmes. John still can't really wrap his mind around what really happened. Well, the murders, the cabby, all that, sure... but he's not sure what happened to him. All he was looking for was a flatshare. He wouldn't have it expected to come with a genius, a serial suicide investigation, an abduction and giggling at crime scenes. Perhaps the Chinese food, yes, that was the only thing predictable.

Naturally Sherlock hadn't been able to deduce what was written on the little slip of paper in the fortune cookies. Nice to see the man is human after all.

John sighs and can't stifle a little giggle. He should probably be worried by the fact that he hopes all of his days will be like this. But he has something to write in his blog now, Ella will be pleased. Yes, he will write up the whole case tomorrow. If he had the time.

And with that thought Doctor John H. Watson falls asleep with a content smile on his face.

Sherlock turns around in his bed for the umpteenth time. He can't sleep. He always sleeps after solving a case. At first he thought his fan was keeping him awake. Moriarty, a riddle to solve. Sherlock doesn't like riddles. He likes evidence and making the right conclusions. There wasn't much to deduce from a name.

Anyway, that isn't what's keeping him awake. That is due to the fact that he isn't alone in the flat, that there is his new flatmate sleeping upstairs. Not just flatmate, partner at least in this case, hopefully in the future.

John Watson had very much surprised him tonight. Sherlock hadn't expected him, to come after him, and even less to save his life by shooting the murderer. Without any doubts or regrets. Sherlock can really be glad to have the man's trust – however he gained it – because he wouldn't like to have John against him. Of course John isn't as smart as him, but nobody is and he's at least less irritating then most people, especially the idiots at the Yard. Maybe except for Lestrade, who is more intelligent than his underlings. But John has qualities you won't find in anyone working for the police. Obviously he has a strong feeling about right and wrong and clearly applies his own scale for that. The man might have served for queen and country but he obviously doesn't care an awful lot about it's laws and Sherlock had a feeling that would serve him very well in the future.

In case the doctor stays. And against all logic Sherlock has a feeling he will. Because Sherlock provides the danger he needs in his life, something that's not ordinary, not predictable. And as unassuming and ordinary as John looked at first glance he has proven tonight that he was far from that. Sherlock just hopes he could put up with the rest. With him. With the experiments that always managed to leak into every aspect of living. And with his moods. He had mentioned the violin and not speaking for days when they met at Bart's, but he knows perfectly well those aren't the worst sides of him.

Sherlock wonders what John would do, if he suddenly needed a cigarette and turned the whole flat upside down searching for his secret stash. Or if he needed something more, knowing there was nothing left in the flat. At least John already knew about his past. He didn't run at that, so maybe he can cope with it all.

Sherlock hopes he will.