...
"Check the back door Doctor Watson" John Watson had been in the army and was used to taking commands, but he wasn't going to a listen to a woman who he didn't trust, who is involved in a photo scandal with no clothes on. But the nod of Sherlock Holmes's head confirms the command and John follows, walking out of the room and down the stairs to the back door.
...
The back door is open slightly ajar. John knows something was going on. He pokes his head out of the door and the soundtrack London fills his ears. He pauses and then hears a loud thump from the floor above. Definitely a distraction to get him out of the room so they could be alone.
John rushes up the stairs and runs into the room. He sees Sherlock sprawled on the floor, dazed eyes and at first glance, drugged.
"Good night Mr Sherlock Homes" Irene Adler walks away from Sherlock, acknowledges John and goes near to the window.
"Jesus, what are you doing?" John asks, shocked as he looks at his flat mate on the floor.
"He'll sleep for a few hours, make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit; makes for a very unattractive cause" John picks up the stray syringe on the glazed, wooden floor.
"What have you given him?" asks John. Irene just smirks, John pays his attention back to his flat mate "Sherlock..."
"He'll be fine, I've used it on loads of my friends" purrs Irene. John bends down to Sherlock.
"Sherlock, Can you hear me?"
"I was wrong about him, he did know where to look" says Irene. John looks up, confused.
"For what? What are you talking about?"
"The key code, to my safe" Irene replies with a smirk.
"What was it?" asks John who is now standing up.
"Shall I tell him?" Irene asks, sitting on the window sill, looking at Sherlock. John looks and sees Sherlock, looking straight at him but not quite seeing, thrashing lightly on the floor.
"My measurements" Irene replies, before going backwards out of the window. John runs to the window but to see nothing. Police sirens pierce his ears, and he looks sadly at Sherlock, eyes unseeing and mouth speaking silent words.
...
John had just finished explaining to Greg Lestrade about the events that had just happened. Before that, Greg had been filming John as he transported Sherlock out of the house. Sherlock was wrapped in a blanket in the back of a cab, speaking nonsense but occasionally they would hear "John".Everytime this happened Greg would smirk, he would never say anything but the smirk was enough for John.
"He's speaking nonsense, and we're not a couple" sighed John as he breathed heavily. Greg raised his eyebrows and chuckled.
"I'll send you the youtube link later" Greg says, grinning. John sighs and gets into the cab.
"He'd better not ruin that upholstery" states the cab driver, motioning to Sherlock. John doesn't say anything, just looks out of the window wishing that the ride back to 221B would be quick.
"Why is he even like that? Looks like some crazy sex act" asked the cab driver.
"None of your business, so keep driving" replied John.
...
John got back to 221B, Sherlock had made no progress and Mrs Hudson was fussing over both of them.
"John, what's happened to Sherlock? Did he finally make someone snap? Oh I'll put on the tea and get a wet flannel, oh not now" She fussed.
"Stop Worrying Mrs Hudson, its only a light sedative" John said as he lifted Sherlock into his arms. He hadn't had this much close body contact to Sherlock before and the thought made his cheeks blush faintly. Sherlock was curiously light in John's arms. It was unsurprising as he hardly ever ate and was on his feet most of the time, but it was still a shock to John.
The climb up the stairs was easy, but as he walked into the flat, door held open by a thoughtful Mrs Hudson, he had no idea what to do. The flat was as cluttered as ever, more so thanks to the current case. There was no sofa, and the two chairs they sat at were not enough to contain Sherlock's sprawling limbs. The kitchen table was a no-go as it was full of conical flasks and poisonous liquids, not to mention indecent. So John opened Sherlock's door and laid Sherlock carefully on the untidy white sheets. Sherlock was never one to tidy up, and laying his bed was never going to be the thing he started with. John being the army trained man he was, successfully managed to pull the sheets around his flat mate. He pulled off Sherlock's shoes and laid them neatly by the side of the bed.
John sat on the bed and looked at Sherlock. Sherlock was still fully clothed, minus his favorite coat. John decided he had to at least get rid of his jacket. John carefully slid off the tailored Jacket and hung it on the end of the bed. John had never really been in Sherlock's room. Sherlock liked to keep that room for himself, though he barely used it. Sherlock was slurring slightly, his silk grey eyes half open. John instinctively stroked his hair. the fluffy curls came at a surprise to his hard, calloused fingers. Before he knew what he was doing, John ran his hands through the dark mop of curls. Sherlock's eyes closed, perhaps in relaxation or pure exhaustion. John wasn't sure what this feeling was, he had always admired Sherlock, and yet he felt something, his heart was yearning for something. John moved round the bed and sat down on the other side, putting his legs on the bed, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes. he replaced his hand on the mop of curls. It felt safe, it felt warm and it felt like home. Making the most of this silence, unwanted as Sherlock was the riot in his life, but nice for once.
...
Movement. John opened his eyes, he instinctively looked at sherlock, but he hadn't changed position. He looked up and saw a dark figure. He turned on the lights and saw someone he never thought he would see standing in 221B. Irene Adler, standing next to the open window.
"You!" exclaimed John. Irene sniffed rolling her eyes
"I still fail to believe that you're not a couple" she said, pulling out her phone. John yanked his hand from Sherlock's head, but not quick enough to avade the camera.
"Now that's a keeper" she grinned, looking down at the photo.
"Bloody hell, why are you here?" asked John breathlessly, blushing in frustration.
"That can wait, I see you're taking advantage of the virgin at last" she purred. John grit his teeth.
"Why did you do this to him?" John asked.
"It was my only choice, he wouldn't behave, so I made him" she laughed. John didn't say anything, Sherlock was starting to stir.
"So you're here why?"
"To return his coat, I may be a dominatrix but I'm hardly going to let the commoners see me wearing nothing" Irene stated. John got up from the bed.
"Don't worry pet, I won't do anything else to your owner" she laughed cruelly. John stared at her, poison building up in his body. He looked over at Sherlock and softened for a moment
"fine, but be quick" he snarled. John wasn't a rude person, but Irene was a special case. Irene went over to the bed and stared at Sherlock. Sherlock stirred and blinked uneasily at her.
"Hush Now, I'm only returning your coat" she purred quietly, she put the coat on the back of the door. she went back over to the window.
"Deny anything he says about me when he stirs and your relationship is kept quiet" she bargains. John looks at her, waits for a moment and nods his head in defeat. She Sits on the window sill.
"Oh and by the way, If you won't have him, I will" she laughed. And she was gone in a flash before John could even formulate a response.
...
John looked at Sherlock sadly, he tucked the covers back around him and opened the door and walked out. Mrs Hudson was waiting in the sitting room with a cup of tea. John let her go in and she placed it on the bedside cabinet. She smiled sadly at John.
"He'll get through this, don't worry dear" she said as she left the room. John sat down by Sherlock's door and went through the texts on his phone. Greg had sent him the video link but he didn't look at it. John was confused. He felt guilty, he felt guilty of his feelings. He'd had girlfriends in the past and they never really worked. He didn't know what to do to keep them. But Sherlock resisted, Sherlock was just so different that the rest of the world was blocked out. People said Sherlock didn't have a heart, but John was sure it had to beat for someone. But he was sure it wasn't him; All Sherlock probably saw was a flat mate who tagged along on cases.
John's flow of thought was broken when he heard a thump come from the over side of the door. John opened the door to find Sherlock struggling on the floor.
"I..I, John! John!" Sherlock gasped, hours of sleep clogged up his speech. John closes the door and waits.
"You okay?" John's face a mask.
"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked, clearing his throat mid sentence.
"I don't suppose you remember much. (John sighed with relief inside) You weren't making a lot of sense" John said, Sherlock was still struggling to stand.
"Oh, I should warn you, Lestrade filmed you on his phone"
"Where is she?" Sherlock shot. John looked at him.
"Where's who?" John asked.
"The woman, the woman" said Sherlock, getting frustrated, he was now swaying on his feet.
"What woman?" asked John, playing dumb.
"The woman! The woman woman" Sherlock cried.
"Oh, Irene Adler? She got away, no one saw her, she wasn't here" John lied through his teeth. Sherlock looked at him, and suddenly got on his knee's and looked under the bed.
"Sherlock what? what? no, no, no back to bed, the bed. you'll be fine in the morning, just sleep" John reassured, guiding Sherlock back to the bed.
"Of course I'll be fine, I'm absolutely fine" Sherlock said, speaking into his pillow.
"Yes, you're great. Now I'm next door if you need me" Said John, hand on the door handle.
"Why would I need you?" asked Sherlock, an edge to his reply.
"No reason at all" spat John as he closed the door.
John was positive that Sherlock didn't love him.