John winced slightly at the sound of clattering Petri dishes and Sherlock's swearing. The human had been inside the flat for two whole days now, with his behaviour becoming more and more irate. Irate enough to use his stash of cigarettes, and John knew he only did that when he was desperate for a case. A soft gurgling noise interrupted the borrower's thoughts. John looked down at his stomach and sighed. He needed to re-stock his supplies, but he could hardly do that with Sherlock in the flat. 221B had been such a quiet place to live, and borrowing had been easy until Sherlock moved in. He'd simply sneak downstairs whenever Mrs Hudson went out for bingo, and managed to grab enough supply for a solid week if he used it wisely. And while he was still cautious, he was able to stroll the flat whenever he wanted to stretch his legs. Now Sherlock was in the picture, John could only just muster enough courage to leave the walls. The man was disconcertingly sharp, and of all the humans John could be spotted by, Sherlock was one of the worst. The human seemed to lack the sentiment they usually had and loved to experiment, a bad combination for a borrower that was caught out. John certainly didn't want to end up diced and stored in some of the Petri dishes Sherlock had just spilt. And yet the borrower hadn't simply moved downstairs with the landlady, Mrs Hudson. He didn't like to admit it, but Sherlock fascinated him. The human may have been dangerous, but he was almost beautiful to watch in a bizarre sense. All his odd habits, playing the violin at odd hours, going without food for days, even shooting walls, they were fascinating. Sherlock had made his life much more exciting, right from the day that he moved in.
John nudged his ear against the wall and listened hard. He immediately recognised Mrs Hudson's signature shoes clacking against the wood, but there was someone else with her. He had a deep voice that vibrated all through the walls no matter how quietly he spoke. It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying, but John would've been surprised if the topic was not renting the flat. He decided to risk getting a glimpse of the newcomer from under the fridge. If someone was moving into the flat it would be best to know what kind of person they were, so he could prepare himself. John scrambled through each passage until he came to the opening under the fridge, only just in time.
"All right, that should be everything then. I'll move in tomorrow." The man concluded as he swept out of the kitchen. John noted he had a medium height and a very particular gait. Ice blue eyes that radiated intelligence were framed in his pale face. The man seemed... eccentric.
"Oh Sherlock," Mrs Hudson began. Ah, so John had a name now. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you after all this time. I don't like it when you get involved in all that nonsense abroad."
"Mmm yes." Sherlock muttered as he left the flat, with Mrs Hudson continuing to talk as she followed him.
As soon as John heard the flat door shut he clambered out from under the fridge and began to brush the dust off of himself. Right, he needed to get to work preparing himself. The flat had always been empty so he had fashioned a system of ropes and bridges to help him get around. How both Mrs Hudson and Sherlock hadn't noticed them was anyone's guess. Really he ought to be more careful. The borrower got to work dismantling them. Next he decided to restock his supplies, just in case Sherlock decided to spend a lot of time indoors. After that, it was only a matter of time before he'd begin investing his new unknowing flatmate's personality.
The test tube vibrated slightly as John placed his hand against its smooth surface. Most of his new flatmates belongings seemed to be science equipment. He'd heard from his own makeshift flat in the walls as Sherlock begin to arrange all of the things he owned in his new home, but halfway through the man had got a call on his phone. The call seemed to be about some kind of detective case and an exciting one at that, because Sherlock tore out of the flat at breakneck speed, coat flapping behind him. John had of course taken the opportunity to study up on his flat mate. And so he was now living with a detective – which was a bit worrying. The man would be smart, and what's more well acquainted with noticing clues. John knew he'd have to watch his step from now on.
A few days went by and John decided to do a bit of spying on Sherlock. He was extremely curious. From the man's conversations, it seemed he wasn't just any old detective. He was apparently the only "Consulting detective" in the world. It was a career that he made up, and it meant that whenever Scotland Yard was "Clueless" as he put it, they came to him. Certainly, Sherlock was clearly quite the show off. However, John knew that to be fair, he certainly had reason to be. The human's talents were amazing, bluntly put.
John had quickly decided that Sherlock's knowledge and his ability to deduce things were probably the most impressive qualities he had. He often watched Sherlock work with his science equipment, but only when he knew the human was fully distracted by his microscopes and Bunsen burners. The human seemed to just leave his equipment scattered across the flat, with no regards for how it looked. John found it rather interesting how completely entranced he could sometimes get, usually when he was using an experiment to crack a case, theories and facts coursing through his head. The borrower quickly discovered that Sherlock's experiments were rather... gruesome. He ended up watching Sherlock toy with severed thumbs; strip flesh from bones by using acid, John even saw eyeballs get microwaved. Why Sherlock would need or even want to know the results John had no idea. He must certainly work on very violent cases. It was almost frightening watch Sherlock handle pieces of dead human so casually. And yet, the rapid way his mind recorded all the information, his vast knowledge, it had an odd charm. John knew his interest was completely illogical, maybe even dangerous, but he couldn't help marvel at his flatmate.
But science and being a detective were not Sherlock's only talents. John recalled the first time he heard Sherlock play the violin. His head had perked up and soft sounds fluttered into the walls. Ah, yes, John thought, that would be the violin he'd seen tucked away in the corner on the day Sherlock moved in. John was surprised someone who seemed so focused on puzzles and was so impatient had been able to master the violin. Regardless, Sherlock sounded amazing, and the borrower certainly wanted to actually see him whilst he was playing. So with that he ran down the passages, whilst still making sure he was deathly quiet, until he found one that lead out onto the mantel piece. With bated breath John stuck his little head out from the wall to see Sherlock standing in the middle of the room, pacing as he played. The detective dipped and bowed with each note, the music flowing through his body, his mind completely focused on the song. It was nice too see Sherlock behave with a bit more... heart for once. John almost felt bad watching him play, like he was witnessing something too personal. But again, he couldn't help himself. It was too interesting not to watch.
Sherlock was also full of surprises. Like the incident with the wall. John had been peacefully sleeping when he was awoken by painfully loud pangs echoing all through the walls. What the hell was going on? He struggled out of his makeshift covers and stood on his heels, alert. The jumped as the blasts sounded again, followed by Sherlock's booming voice.
"Bored! Bored! Bored!"John was shocked at Sherlock's complaints. Almost angry at them. The man was shooting a wall at 2AM merely because he was bored? Was he mad? Yes, Sherlock Holmes was obviously mad. All he seemed to care about were cases, things to keep him occupied. He was almost like a machine sometimes. Still, John almost pitied him. Soft thudding sounds would fill the flat as he paced, like he was pained by his boredom. In any case, John decided to move his main living chambers to the Kitchen walls. Being shot didn't exactly sound particularly fun.
John quickly noted that Sherlock's sleep patterns and eating habits were not healthy. If he was on a case or simply interested in something, he would go days and days without sleep. And he hardly ate, managing at most one meal every two days. How he was able to be so awake and constantly run around solving cases John had no idea.
The borrower also noted that most of his relationships with others seemed... strained or were non-existent. He seemed to have a close relationship with Mrs Hudson, and certainly he respected her, although at times her choice of conversation topic bored him. Then there was Sherlock's brother, Mycroft. Sherlock certainly didn't seem to care much for him. John didn't manage to catch a glimpse of the detective's big brother when he visited, but he could infer enough from Mycroft's voice. He'd entered 221B to ask for Sherlock's help with an investigation, putting an emphasis on how it was important for the government. And Sherlock had given him a mouthful of abuse in response, refusing to answer any of his brother's calls once Mycroft left. Eventually Sherlock had relented and helped Mycroft though, which seemed like it was a rarity for him.
Apart from a gray haired man named Lestrade, it didn't look like Sherlock was on good terms with any of his colleagues. John managed to witness some of them when they decided to perform a drugs bust in the flat. He'd startled when he heard a whole slew of men and women come clambering up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. After the initial surprise he scrambled over to one of the bullet holes Sherlock created and peeked out carefully. It didn't take him long to figure out they were searching Sherlock's flat for drugs. John was surprised for the second time that day. Sherlock had a history with substance abuse? The borrower knew he was fond of cigarettes, but he had no idea Sherlock had a history with other substances. Still, the more John thought about it the more it made sense, considering Sherlock disregarded most laws and got bored so easily. The way Sherlock's co-workers talked about him and they searched the flat gave John the impression that they were not particularly fond of the detective. Most of them seemed only interested in seeing what Sherlock's flat was like. John wasn't surprised to hear Sherlock's frustration once he found them in the flat. A few of them he outright called idiots, and one woman seemed to brand him with the label freak in response. Other than those people, Sherlock never seemed to go out with others or even take interest in them. He seemed to be content with only giving the odd word to the skull he left on the mantle every now and then.
John was relieved when Sherlock finally got a call about a case. Finally, he thought, now maybe I can actually eat. As soon as John heard the sound of Sherlock clattering down the stairs fade into silence he pulled on his borrowing gear and set out to work. First he started in the kitchen, using his harness and grappling hook to scale the counters and shelves. There was always very little food stored in the flat, so John always took a while when managing to find enough different foods to ensure he got a balanced diet. Once his bag was brimming with slightly stale bread and cheese John collected some water from a small pool left in the sink. Although he had managed to adapt to obtaining most of his fluids via food since Sherlock moved in, he still always tried to get as much water possible. Despite the meagre pantry and how sweaty all the exercise had made John, finally leaving the walls had put him in a very pleasant mood. It was nice to be in a more open space with sunlight beaming through the windows. The borrower decided to check the living room. Maybe he'd treat himself to something Sherlock had left lying around, like a new blanket for his bed seeing as his current one had gotten rather tattered. With a merry little jump John used some string to slide down from the counter and onto the kitchen floor. He began to stroll out of the kitchen and into the living room, eyes scanning the floor and furniture around him. Books and papers were strewn everywhere and a day old cup of tea had been left out. John looked up through the window to see the sky coated in gray clouds; the sun's light trying to blaze through them. It was nice to see the sunlight for once. After a few minutes of starring, John returned to searching for good fabrics. He was just noting how Sherlock really needed to dust more when the floorboards behind him groaned. The borrower froze in shock as a few more creaking noises followed. He felt his heart drop down into his stomach as a huge shadow engulfed him. Oh my god, he thought, please god don't let that be Sherlock, please tell me I'm just imaging this. Slowly, John began to turn his body, to face whatever had made the shadow which now coated his frame.
