John Watson knew what he was getting into when he moved in with Sherlock Holmes. He was warned when he walked into Saint Bart's. It was just a small movement, a small gesture to reveal what he really was, and only John caught it. He looked over at Mike when it happened but he wasn't reacting; when he turned back to Sherlock he was smiling at him. He gave a few more warnings, nothing as big, or dangerous as the other one, the one meant just for John.
With a small flick of the wrist, John was able to see the mark on his skin, the small black smudge that looked like nothing from afar but was a small man up close, on his wrist. Sherlock had a Shadow. Not a shadow like everyone has, that follows them around, but a Shadow. A living creature inside of him that makes him change into a monster, something friends told each other about at sleep overs, something parent's always said were a myth. Sherlock was different, and it made John excited.
Sherlock seemed to know everything about him as well. He was bombarded with deductions, left and right his life was being unraveled by someone who he just met. It should have scared him off, like the warning, but just like that, it only made him want to get closer, want to see more of what Sherlock could do. John accepted the offer, or more like Sherlock told him he was accepting. He didn't have a say in the matter but he knew there was no turning back.
X
It wasn't long after he officially moved in when John came in contact with Sherlock's Shadow. The aftermath of his Shadow actually. It was late and John was worried for his friend, he left earlier and hadn't come back. With Sherlock it could have meant a number of things, not many of them ending in a good way. He could picture him chasing a criminal down and alley, or lying in a ditch bleeding to death. All the worse possibilities came to mind in the matter of seconds.
He had to sit himself on the couch to calm down. He heard a loud thud outside the door, his heart jumping at the sound. John hurried towards it, pulling it open and seeing Sherlock slumped down on the floor covered in blood, wearing a tattered suit, and shaking uncontrollably. John cursed quietly and helped him slowly off the floor.
John helped him sit down on the couch and looked over him for a moment. His head was blank as he stared at the cuts and bruises that covered his body. When he heard a whimper come from Sherlock, a man who was almost steel, his mind kicked into gear. All the books he read when he was younger on Shadows and their hosts, all the information, came flooding back. He needed to feed Sherlock everything he could, bandage him up, and let him sleep for a few days.
Humans that are host for Shadows rarely eat or sleep. It's just something that happens when another creature is in their bodies, it's like the Shadow is keeping them alive with just their presence. But when a Shadow took control, it would drain their human until they were on empty ready to collapse and die. It was dangerous for the both of them. If the host dies so does the Shadow.
John quickly gathered everything from their kitchen that was edible. It wasn't much, they hadn't been living there long and John was still out of work, but it seemed to please Sherlock. He started eating the moment the food was in front of him. John ran to get his first aid kit, knowing that he needed to get Sherlock to stop bleeding before he fell asleep.
When he came back out most of the food was gone and Sherlock looked up at him. John could see he needed him. It didn't need to be spoken, John was there for him. He started cleaning off Sherlock's torso, finding more cuts than he could wish for. While he ate John stitched up the larger wounds he could find on Sherlock and wrapped most of his body with bandages. He checked his head for any damage and luckily found none.
"Come on," John whispered to the recovering man. "Let me take you to your room." Sherlock didn't protest. He let John sling his arm around his shoulders and haul him off the couch. His breathing quickened as John put too much pressure on his side. "Sorry," he mumbled as he started for the detective's room.
John slowly lowered him onto the large bed, making sure to be careful of anymore wounds. Sherlock laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a few seconds before shutting his eyes. The doctor let out a breath and turned to leave when a hand shot out to grab his wrist. "Don't leave me," Sherlock sounded broken.
John looked down at him. Sherlock's eyes were still closed; his body looked relaxed, but his grip was tight. He moved closer to the bed and sat next to it. He swallowed hard and stroked Sherlock's fingers so he knew he was staying. "I won't," he murmured. His wrist was let go and it dropped to his side. John laid his head on the side of the bed and watched as sleep overtook Sherlock.
X
John found a job at a nearby doctor's office. He was a bit over qualified but they hired him on as a temp for a few of the doctors that were out for a while. He was grateful to have the job, even if it would take away time from helping Sherlock. He needed the job though, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Plus he would be out of the flat more often, which was what he needed from time to time.
He wasn't expecting much of a reaction from Sherlock when he came home but he was expecting something. Instead, John got nothing from him. He just nodded and continued on with an experiment. John wanted to try to provoke him to say something but gave up. He should have known Sherlock wouldn't care about his career.
X
One day, while John was at work he was chatting with Sarah, another doctor. He was flirting with her, though, trying not to make it noticeable. She was his boss after all and didn't want to get in trouble. He was leaning across the counter she was standing behind with a charming smile on his face. An unexpected yawn escaped his lips and he did his best to cover it up. "Sorry," he said. The night before he ended up working on a case with Sherlock until the wee hours of morning. "I was up late doing something."
"A date with a girlfriend?" Sarah asked.
John almost said it was Sherlock but kept his mouth shut. "No, not a date," he assured her. "And I don't have one for tonight." He decided to just dive in and come out with the fact that he was interested in her. "Would you like to go on one with me?"
Sarah beamed at him. She didn't even try to hide it. "I would love to," she told him.
"Movie? Dinner?" John questioned. "I'll pick you up at seven."
"That sounds wonderful," Sarah nodded. She grabbed a notepad and wrote down her address for him. She slipped it into his hand and before giving it a little squeeze. "See you at seven."
X
John walked home with a spring in his step. He ignored almost everything around him. He hadn't had a date since he got home from Afghanistan. He reached the flat quickly, bounding up the steps two at a time. He paused momentarily in the living room, staring at Sherlock who looked a mess. "What happened to you?" he questioned. A sudden dread passed over him, he could picture Sherlock changing without him being here to help him afterwards but he dismissed it. Shadows never took over in the day unless something was put into their systems that forced them to change.
Sherlock looked up at him from the couch. "Just bored," he huffed and sat up. His eyes darted over John's form, a bit of anger showing in them. "Date tonight?"
John opened his mouth, amazed with how fast he figured it out. "Yeah," he laughed, pink stained his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck; he shouldn't have felt embarrassed of the fact. "Sarah is her name, she's really nice." He didn't know why he said that. Sherlock didn't care about that either. "I'm going at seven so I have a few hours. I'm going to take a nap before I have to go. I wouldn't have to if someone didn't keep me up catching Chinese smugglers."
Sherlock scowled at him. "Not my fault you didn't give up," he told him. He pulled his dressing gown tighter around his shoulders and flopped back down on his side, facing away from John. "Have fun with Sarah."
John stared at his back for a moment before nodding. If Sherlock was going to be in one of his moods he was going to ignore him as well. He took off his jacket and hung it up before jogging up to his room.
X
The date went well. John did his best to be polite. He spent the whole night listening to her as she talked about herself. He avoided anything about his personal life. If he did every story would be about Sherlock. The man was overtaking everything John did. A girl he was on a date with would not want to hear about him.
John was on her stoop, looking at her waiting to say goodbye. He wanted to reach out and kiss her but he wasn't sure she would let him. "Well," he started off, trying to dispel the awkward silence that formed between them. "I think I should get going."
Sarah grabbed his hands. John flushed a bit but quickly straightened his shoulders. She started leaning in expecting John to meet her halfway. John was going to kiss her when he heard a screeching noise. He pulled back instantly. "What's wrong?" she asked when she finally opened her eyes.
John looked around behind him. "Did you hear that?" he asked.
"The car using their horrible brakes?" Sarah raised her eyebrows.
John knew that noise wasn't a car. It was a Shadow, maybe more on the prowl around London. He shook his head and took his hands back from Sarah. The screeching noise came again but closer. "You should get inside," he told her trying to convey a message using his eyes. If he told her out right what was wrong he would be put down as a nut job like all the rest. "It's getting late."
"Did you not enjoy our night?" Sarah crossed her arms.
John looked up at her with wide eyes. "Of course I enjoyed out night, but I need to get home. Get some sleep. I barely got any last night remember?" he explained. "Please, just go inside, I'll see you tomorrow at work." He needed her to get inside, she could be in danger. Shadows were hostile creatures, there are stories of them killing humans left and right but John knew they mostly fought themselves. That's why Sherlock always came home after a change covered in cuts and bruises.
Sarah nodded. "Goodnight John," she sighed and shut her door.
John took out his phone and dialed Sherlock's number. He wanted to know if Sherlock was one of those out. After receiving the voicemail John hung up and sent him a text just in case he was being a child and not answering calls. He didn't want to believe it was Sherlock. Humans that had a Shadow only changed a few times a month. Sherlock already changed four times; he shouldn't have change until the next month unless he used something that forced on the change. He heard the screeching noise again. It was incredibly close now. John knew for sure that it was only one Shadow.
He did the dumb thing and ran towards the noise. He ended up on a secluded street, full of shops; only the street lamps provided light for him. His ears were assaulted with the horrible noise once again. He covered his ears, trying to block out the sound. His eyes shut involuntarily and his breathing quickened.
John felt a hot breath on his face. He cracked open one eye and was faced with a pitch black face and piercing white eyes. He swallowed hard and tried not to be afraid. The Shadow opened its mouth, showing off its three inch long teeth, and let out another ear splitting scream. John shut his eyes and turned away, a bit of spit hitting his head.
Turning back to the Shadow John watched it as it stood up straight, reaching its full height of nine feet. John stared at it. He had never seen one in real life. It looked like a human except its black skin was darker than the sky, and its black claws shined in the light. He wanted nothing more than to touch it to know what it felt like but that would be suicide.
He should have been running but that would have been futile. Shadows moved quickly, one of the reasons only a few people have seen them. It would have caught him before he reached the end of the street. John wondered why he wasn't dead already. He opened his eyes again and saw the Shadow staring at him, breathing heavily.
John bit his lip and lifted a hand slowly. He touched the Shadow's torso, the skin felt sleek, almost like rubber. His heart was beating loudly in his ears. He moved his hands to the Shadow's hand. He ran his finger across one of its claws; it was cold and felt like metal. A smile overtook his face, he was touching a creature he spent most of his life studying.
The hand in his started shrinking. John looked up and watched as the Shadow changed back into its human form. His stomach turned to lead when he saw Sherlock's face. His friend dropped to his knees when the transformation was finished. John gripped his hand; he was angry, disappointed, and sad. There were only a few things that forced a change, all type of drugs, nuts, and dairy. John made sure they didn't have any nuts or dairy in the flat, he gave up having milk in anything when he moved in, but he didn't know about the drugs. He trusted Sherlock not to start up again, it looked like he couldn't trust him for that.
"John," Sherlock's small voice reached his ears. He couldn't look up at him, he knew John was angry.
John cursed under his breathe. "Let's get you home," he sighed and lifted Sherlock from the ground. He looked over his disheveled form, checking for any injuries but he saw nothing that needed attention. He laughed quietly despite his anger. "I always wondered how you manage to keep you clothes on after a change." Sherlock remained silent. John frowned and pulled him along lazily.
X
After Sherlock's stomach was filled John dropped him on his bed. As usual John was going to sleep in Sherlock's room again, the other man wouldn't let him leave, usually though he slept on the floor next to him but he undressed and crawled onto the bed next to him. There was no need for him hurt his back any more than he already did after carrying him back to the flat. He watched Sherlock who was in turn staring at him. "I'm sorry John," Sherlock said.
John let out a slow sigh. Sherlock was always more emotional, more open, more vulnerable, after a change. The doctor ran his fingers over the back of his hand. "Go to sleep," he told him. He was going to talk to him when he woke up but right now he was going to let him rest.
X
Days later, when Sherlock woke, John was sitting in the living room waiting for him. He was reading the newspaper calmly, barely looking up when he entered the room. He waited until Sherlock was on the couch before putting down the newspaper and folding his hands on his lap. "Sherlock," he started off a frown set on his face, "I'm disappointed in you."
Sherlock shifted in his seat. "You sound like my mother," he mumbled.
"Sherlock you took drugs," John laughed sardonically. He rubbed his face before continuing. "You took drugs even though you know what it does. Not only does it change you but it also messes with your whole body. You can still die from taking them. I don't know how you can be so stupid to actually do them."
Sherlock looked down. John could see the tension in his shoulders. "I was bored," he tried to explain.
John shook his head. "That's no excuse," he scolded.
"I was lonely!" Sherlock yelled. His hands were clenched in his hair. "I couldn't handle it John. Have you ever felt so lonely that you heart feels like it's going to rip itself out?" He was breathing hard, his eyes intense as they stared at John.
John sat back, not sure what to say. He wanted to look away but he couldn't move his eyes from his. "Is that why you take them?" he asked eventually.
Sherlock dropped his gaze once again. "I'm not going to talk about it anymore," he huffed and stood abruptly.
John grabbed his arm before he could make it far. "Don't take them anymore," he tried pleading with his eyes, "for me."
"Fine," Sherlock pulled his arm back and went to the kitchen.
X
John was eventually dumped by Sarah after a few failed dates, Sherlock interrupting most of them. John found a few more girls to date, not letting his social life outside of Sherlock die yet. They all ended in ruins as Sherlock ruined every one of them. John didn't want to blame him though; it was just small things, like an off comment about their private lives, or a text during dinner. John was able to get over it; he figured everyone else could.
He was able to find a nice woman from the supermarket named Elizabeth. He met her when he was on his weekly shopping spree. They exchanged numbers and John planned a date for a few nights after their meeting.
They were going out on their date; John had her meet up at his flat because the restaurant they were going to was right down the street. John didn't want her to come up to the flat so when the doorbell rang he ran down the stairs and out the front door.
"Ready to go?" he asked with a smile. A cold wind blew and he pulled his jacket tighter. She nodded, trying to hide a giggle. He checked his pockets to make sure he had everything. He sighed when he couldn't find his wallet. "I have to get my wallet. Sorry."
"I don't mind," Elizabeth laughed. "Do you mind if I come in while you find it though? It's a bit chilly out here."
John glanced up to their floor of the flat then back to her. "Sure," he tried not to sound too reluctant. He opened the door and led the way up to their flat. "My flatmate is in here, it's best if you don't talk to him. He's a little rough with new people."
"Okay," Elizabeth giggled more. She tucked some hair behind her ear and followed in behind him.
John shot a worried look over to his flatmate and nodded. "I'll be right back," he whispered to Elizabeth before he ran up to his room to fetch his wallet. As he walked down the stairs again, he heard a quiet sob. He shut his eyes and wanted to hit something. He knew he shouldn't have left the two in the same room together. He entered the living room slowly, trying to figure out the situation before he stepped fully into it.
Elizabeth turned to him with red eyes. She opened her mouth a few times, small hiccups escaping instead of words, before she ran out. John turned and was going to run after her but let decided not to. He dropped his chin to his chest not even bothering looking at Sherlock.
"It had to be done," Sherlock simply told him. He stood up and walked over to John. "I can't have you dating any longer John."
John looked up at him with a confused gaze. "What do you mean you can't have me dating?" he questioned. Sherlock stepped closer and caged him in against the wall with his arms on either side of him. "What are you doing?"
"You're my mate," Sherlock stated.
John gaped at him. He shook his head and swallowed. "I can't be your mate Sherlock," he told him. "I…I can't be your mate." He remembered reading about Shadows and their mates. "I can't have children."
"Tut, tut John," Sherlock shook his head, "you know that's not how it works. If I want you it doesn't matter if you can have children or not."
John pushed against his chest trying to get him to move but he didn't budge. "I don't want you, not like that," he said. "I'm just your friend."
Sherlock leaned in, his mouth close to his ear. "Then you know what I will do," he whispered. "A Shadow will do anything to get their mate." He kissed his cheek.
John shoved him away. "I'm not gay," he said. He wiped his cheek and walked into the hallway. He growled when he heard Sherlock's footsteps behind him. "Stop following me."
"John I love you," Sherlock told him.
"Well I don't love you," John turned on him. He saw the hurt in his eyes. He knew it hurt them whenever the person they chose to spend the rest of their life with says that. "Sherlock, you can't just make me your mate. When did you even choose this?"
"Some time ago," Sherlock said. "I thought it was clear. I mean, I even told you I was lonely. I thought that was a good enough sign."
John stared at him before shaking his head. He threw his hands in the air and spun around. "No, I can't do this," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. He felt Sherlock's hands on his waist and was pulled towards him.
"Try," Sherlock whispered into his ear. "Please."
John shut his eyes. It made sense now, every time Sherlock chased away a girlfriend was because he wanted him. But he didn't like Sherlock like that; he couldn't like him like that. He was his best friend, nothing more. "Can't we stay together without getting romantic?" he asked.
"I don't want that," Sherlock dictated. His hands tightened on John. "I can't turn it off John."
John let out a breath. He could deny this for Sherlock, but that would make it a living nightmare for him. As Sherlock said Shadows would do anything to get the mate they want. He didn't want to do stuff like that with Sherlock though, he wasn't attracted to him. He took in a deep breath. "I'll try," he let out. "I won't do anything I'm not comfortable with though. Do you understand that?"
Sherlock buried his head in the nook of John's neck. "Thank you," he cried happily. He wound his arms around him fully. "What aren't you going to be comfortable with?"
"Sex," John started out with his major concern.
Sherlock shook his head. "I don't want that, there's no need to worry," he mumbled.
"I'm fine with kissing," John cringed; he never thought he would say that to another man, "but nothing heavy. I don't have a desire to taste your tongue. Also, no feeling me up, although, I guess something like this would be fine."
Sherlock nodded and held him tighter. "Is that it?" he asked.
John bit his lip. Sherlock grazed his lips lightly across his shoulder. "That's all I have for now," he told him. He looked down at the arms around him. "Something might come up later on."
"Thank you," Sherlock repeated. John barely heard those words come out of his mouth. "I love you."
John nodded and pulled away. He knew Shadows felt great emotions for their mates but he would probably never say it back, and if he did it wouldn't be the same way for him as it was for Sherlock. "I think I need to sleep now," he said. "Goodnight."
"I'll come with you," Sherlock quickly said.
John gave him a weird look. "You never sleep Sherlock," he said. "Plus, I want to sleep alone tonight. I've had an odd day."
Sherlock bobbed his head. "I understand," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets like he was resisting touching John. "I'll be down here doing something."
John frowned, he looked a bit lost. He sighed and leaned against the banister. "What are you going to do?" he asked. "I mean up in my room, if you don't sleep."
"Just lay there," Sherlock shrugged. "It would be my first time being in the same bed with you while I'm conscious."
John started up the stairs. "Come on then," he called over his shoulder. He smiled a little as Sherlock ran up the steps behind him. John striped to his boxers. He glanced at Sherlock who was watching him closely. "Don't you need to change too?"
Sherlock ran out of the room leaving John alone. He sighed and fell back on the bed. Sherlock was so different, John didn't know how to handle the drastic change in his personality or how long it was going to last. He heard Sherlock running up the stairs again and moved so he was lying properly on the bed. He pulled the covers over him, turned off the light just as Sherlock came in and shut his eyes. He felt the bed sink and Sherlock move close behind him. As an arm was settled around his waist he knew he wasn't going to get much sleep that night.
X
John rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm as he walked home. He had a long day at work; he had to go in early and leave late. He sent a text to Sherlock warning that he was going to be home late, if it was a few weeks before he wouldn't have bothered sending the text. He'd been getting used to the new relationship. He still felt off by a few things, but the occasional touches and Sherlock sleeping next to him when he wasn't doing anything was comforting. The kissing threw him off whenever it happened though.
He zipped up his jacket in a useless attempt at keeping warm as he rounded onto Baker Street. He saw Lestrade's police car outside their flat and was grateful for it. Sherlock never tried anything in front of the officers from the Yard; John was hoping he would get a break from being Sherlock's partner for a little bit.
John jogged down the street. Once he reached the black door he pushed it open and started up the stairs. He heard their voices pause, causing him to stop before shaking his head and laughing at himself. He felt a bit nervous for no reason at all. He licked his lips and continued up the stairs. "I'm home," he announced like they already didn't know. He scratched the back of his neck as he peered over at Lestrade. "Do you have a case? God knows Sherlock needs one."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the doctor a small smile playing at his lips. "He's trying to give me one," he told him. John raised his eyebrows, silently adding 'but?' at the end of the sentence. "It's a particularly boring one though."
"Sherlock, we need your help," Lestrade sounded frustrated.
John ran his fingers through his hair. "What is it about?" he asked.
"Two men found dead in a dumpster," Sherlock cut off the detective inspector before he could even get a word in. "One strangled the other with his head bashed in. Lestrade, you should really know the answer to this one."
Lestrade looked like he needed a drink. "If you could just go down to the morgue, take a quick look at the bodies. Anything would help us right now," he pleaded.
John could see he was defeated. It didn't sound like too hard of a case but there could be more to it that Sherlock wasn't getting because Lestrade hadn't seen it. He turned to Sherlock with a frown. "Just go, it might be a good one, and it's better than moping around the flat," he sighed and turned into the kitchen. He heard them start up the conversation again. He hoped he would take the case.
He heard the door close and then Lestrade driving off. John finished buttering his toast and turned around. He backed up hitting the counter as he noticed Sherlock right behind him. "Don't do that," he swallowed. Sherlock hadn't back up yet so John looked away. "So, are you taking the case?"
"Yes, will you come with me?" Sherlock asked resting his head against John's shoulder.
John's cheeks flushed. "I'm really tired," he told him. "I wouldn't be any help." He looked down at the top of Sherlock's head. He was lying, he was tired but not tired enough to not go on a case; he just wanted a few more hours alone. He hoped Sherlock didn't catch him lying.
Sherlock lifted his head, looked John in the eye and pulled away. "I understand," his voice was cold. John knew he was caught. "I'll go alone, nothing new."
John grabbed his arm. "I've been on the last three cases," he tried to justify his lie; "you don't need me on this one."
"You're trying to avoid me," Sherlock growled. He took in a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. I don't know when I'll be home."
John sighed and watched as Sherlock stormed out of the flat. He kicked his foot against the floor before running after him. He was lucky to see that he didn't catch a cab yet. He sidled next to him and nudged him with his arm. "I'm sorry," he let out in a huff. "You have to understand, I'm not used to this. I know it's been a few weeks but that still doesn't mean that I'll suddenly be comfortable with it. I just wanted to take a night to myself, try to get my head together."
A taxi pulled up in front of them, Sherlock climbed in silently. John shut his eyes and groaned. He slipped in next to him and waited. Sherlock moved closer to John, lowering his head. "I've barely seen you today," he pointed out.
John held his breath. This was something he wasn't used to. Sherlock was usually cold and uncaring, but after his confession of sorts he had been definitely nicer, and more open about things. Only with John of course, which he enjoyed because it made him feel different from the rest of the world; he was no longer ordinary John. "I know," he finally said.
Sherlock turned his head up. John stared into his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" Sherlock asked hesitantly. John looked around, his eyes darting everywhere to see if anyone was looking. Sherlock moved away shaking his head. "Never mind."
John frowned and felt guilt pool in the bottom his stomach. He leaned against the window and waited for the cab to reach Saint Bart's.
It didn't take long. They pulled up to the hospital and Sherlock climbed out; John sighed and handed over his money to the driver. He walked into the hospital, not seeing Sherlock anywhere. He dropped his shoulders and made his way down to the morgue alone. He could hear Lestrade talking with the detective already, and could see Molly watching them intently. John slipped in, barely noticed, and leaned against the wall.
X
Several hours later, they were still in the morgue. Sherlock had been looking over the bodies, and the evidence he sent Lestrade to fetch and John had helped a little but not much. He remained against the wall most of the time, almost falling asleep standing up. He knew he should have just stayed home; he would have blamed Sherlock for making him come but that would have been wrong. He was the one that felt guilty; he's the one that let it get to him and ran after him.
He shook his head and watched Sherlock move around the morgue. Molly was still there, occasionally she would pop in and out of the room because she had other work to do, but she had to keep an eye on Sherlock and the bodies, more of Sherlock though. John scowled, no one paying attention to him, and stepped closer to Sherlock and looked over his shoulder.
His eyes darted up to Molly who was still staring at Sherlock. He placed his hand on Sherlock's back and leaned closer. "I thought you said it was going to be easy, we've been here for hours," he told him.
Sherlock looked away from the picture he was holding and smiled at him, his eyes going from John to Molly. "It is, I'm trying to find every shred of evidence I could show to Lestrade to show how easily he could have solved this without my help," he explained. "Look at them, isn't it easy to know who killed them?"
John scanned over the two bodies. He noticed bruising on one man's neck, and the other's face was no longer recognizable as human. He shook his head slowly. "No, I can't see it," he admitted after a moment.
Sherlock smirked and pointed to the one man's neck. "There's a small cut here," he started, "you can barely make it out. If you look closer you can see a bit more bruising around the area as well. Now, after looking at the corpses belongings, I knew it was a ring that cut the neck." He moved to the other body, John close behind him. He lifted the man's hand. "You can see a tan line on his finger where the ring was worn every day. Conclusion, this man killed that man."
"Then who killed him?" John asked.
Sherlock nodded. "That's not so obvious," he said wagging his finger. "It couldn't have been our victim over here, he was killed by him and probably didn't have time to grab something and hit him with it. But you can see that the angle of the object, which I suspect to be a bat, when it hit, came from the side. So there is a third person involved with the crime." He turned on his heel and grabbed two bags from the other table. "The only connection found between these two men was a girl."
"Lovers spat?" John questioned.
"No. That was my first thought," Sherlock said. He showed him two different pictures, one of a small girl with blond hair and one of a woman with blond hair. "These are pictures of the same woman but in different times of her life. The older one was found in the wallet of the man who had his head smashed in and the newer one was found in the strangled man's wallet.
"Now, to begin with, I had two theories. Theory one was that these two men were in a relationship with the blond woman in the photo; theory two was that the man with his head smashed in is the blond woman's brother and this man was a boyfriend or a friend that he didn't like for some reason unknown. Theory two seems more plausible now. The picture is one from her childhood; the brother still carries it around in his wallet because he still thinks of her as a little sister that needs protection. I know they are some type of family, brother and sister being the most common because they have some family resemblance because of their ears; they are formed in much of the same way."
John stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. He shut it quickly and smiled. "Brilliant," he sighed. He shook his head and laughed. "Absolutely brilliant."
Sherlock's eyes lit up and a smile crept on his face as he looked down upon John. Molly cleared her throat; John turned to her, remembering that she was there. "I have to go, if you need me just send a text, I have my phone on," she said with a nervous smile and quickly left the room.
John watched her leaved before retreating back to his corner. He could still feel Sherlock's eyes on him as he moved. He crossed his arms and propped his head against the wall, shutting his eyes. "Can you just call Lestrade and give him the information you already have?" he asked.
"I sent him a text telling him to go to their flats," Sherlock answered, "told him to ask around for the blond woman; she's the key to solving this completely. We find her and we can fill in the last few details and lay this to rest."
"Good," John hummed happily. He rolled his head against the wall and opened his eyes. "Maybe then we can go home and sleep." He heard the familiar sound of Sherlock's phone receiving a message and watched as he checked it. He was silently praying that it was Lestrade and they could leave.
"They found her," Sherlock announced pulling on his jacket. John thanked god under his breath. He sent another text before pocketing his phone. In two short steps he was in front of John, blocking him into the corner. John's eyes widened but he kept silent. "You're jealous of Molly."
John made a face. "No, I'm not," he informed him. He put his hands against Sherlock's stomach but didn't push him like he planned to.
"Yes you are," Sherlock whispered, a smile on his face. "You watched her as she stared at me then came over. You put your hand on my back and looked to see if she was watching; she was by the way."
"That wasn't jealousy, I was just talking to you," John protested. He wasn't going to admit anything. Sherlock continued to stare at him, calculating every movement he made. John looked down at his hands and moved them to the detective's sides.
"Come on John, we both know you were showing her that she couldn't have me," Sherlock whispered. "You wanted to show her that I'm yours."
John gripped his shirt. His breathing quickened, and his heart started pounding harder. He didn't know what made him do it but he pulled Sherlock down and kissed him. He held him there a few moments, feeling the pressure against his lips.
"Oh," Molly squeaked from the door. John pulled away from Sherlock, his cheeks red. "I thought you two would have left already."
Sherlock's mouth twitched, only John could see it, before he stood up straight. "We just have to gather the evidence then you can take care of the cadavers."
John ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the examining and started to pick up a few of the files. He walked out behind Sherlock, glancing at Molly as they were leaving, she didn't look too happy.
X
John stood behind Sherlock, trying to hide his wincing when they were brought over to her. She had bruises covering her face. "Excellent," Sherlock let out as he started circling the poor woman.
John saw the discomfort on her face and tried to step in. "What's your name?" he asked in a soft voice.
"Her names Kelly Harding," Sherlock told him, "sister of Mike Harding, the dead man with the picture of her as a small child." Kelly made a noise and started to sob. John shot a glare towards Sherlock, silently yelling at him. "Don't feel too bad for her John; she did kill her brother."
"How did you know?" Kelly asked horrified.
Sherlock stepped out in front of her. "Mike showed up at your boyfriend's house, caught him beating you," he started. "He saw it as the last straw and started to strangle your boyfriend, eventually killing him. You grabbed a bat, feeling the need to protect you boyfriend, and started beating your brother."
Kelly looked down. "If he didn't come over none of this would have happened," she snarled. "I told him I was fine; he didn't have to come."
"Lestrade," Sherlock called turning away from her. Lestrade tromped into the room. "Arrest her for murder."
"You're under arrest," Lestrade started as he cuffed her and lead her out of the room.
Sherlock smiled at John who smiled back. "That was good," John nodded, "although you have to work on you manners a bit."
Sherlock waved off the comment. "Are you ready to go home now?" he asked.
"Of course," John sighed. He walked out of the door into the night. Sherlock was close on his heels, his hand coming forward to brush against John's. The doctor looked over at him before taking his hand.
X
John stumbled tiredly into the flat. He grew more tired in the cab they caught and almost fell asleep. He leaned against the banister, looking up the stairs to his room. The thought of working his way up them put dread in his mind. Sherlock grabbed him by the arm and lead him to his bedroom. "We can sleep here for tonight," he told him.
John nodded, agreeing full heartedly. He grinned when he saw Sherlock's bed. He toed off his shoes and fell forward on the bed. He started pulling off his clothes, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. He groaned and dropped his hands to his sides. He hated what he was going to do, but he didn't want to fall asleep in his clothes. "Sherlock, can you help me?" he asked.
Sherlock chuckled and came forward. "Ordinary humans, your ability to feel tired so often amazes me," he said as he started undoing John's shirt. John turned his head away, his face bright red, with his heart pounding rapidly. Sherlock pulled off his jeans easily, laughing quietly at John's discomfort. He leaned down and kissed him lightly on his cheek. He pulled away and started changing himself.
John pulled himself further up on the bed. When he woke up that morning he had not been expecting to kiss Sherlock, and then have him undress him before going to bed. He curled up on his side, his mind trying to find the solution. Maybe he was starting to like Sherlock. He shook his head and buried his face into the pillow.
Sherlock climbed on the bed, and wrapped his arms around John. "Good night John," he whispered.
"Good night," John mumbled.
This is the first part of this series. I imagine there to just be two more. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you thought of it. BYE!