A/N: Been gone for a while, first bit of writing that I've done for for ages.
I fear I've gotten a little rusty...
Short chapter, but will upload the next few soon. Uploading makes it feel like the words are set and unchangeable.
R+R
Brisk steps carried Dr. Watson over wet London pavements, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched against the wind. Every few seconds he was throwing glances left right and centre for anything suspicious; any sign of someone watching or following.
Taking out his phone, his eyes flickered again over the same text he had read countless times trying to understand the how and why of this situation, especially after Sherlock had been missing for almost four days now. The message from him had arrived not moments after the hospital had phoned, and John had realised with a grumble it had – once again – been deliberately machinated by Holmes so that his surprise would be genuine.
All the same, warning or no warning, he was still going to kick Sherlock's arse for this one.
Following instructions, Watson had resisted hailing a cab and had instead walked 9 minutes of the 12 minute journey, with a small and inconspicuous satchel that matched his trench coat full of the things he had further been instructed to bring.
Ducking right, left, then right again through thin alleys he found a small, scruffy looking child, who offered a hand out and said with impeccable enunciation, "Evening, Dr. Watson. I will take what is required now."
The exchange was quick, and John reached the hospital with only one old pair of eyes glancing at him more than once.