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Chapter 2 - Some like it cold

John woke up slowly, it was still early but he couldn't sleep anymore, he rubbed his face with both hands and exhaled deeply.

He could feel something was wrong without knowing exactly what.

He put on his dressing gown and left his room.

Kitchen, kettle, usual.

He sat on the sofa to read the paper while sipping his tea. Something was still wrong but now he could see what had bothered him. The sound of water in the bathroom was constant since he woke up, maybe longer. He stood up and went to the bathroom door, listening closely.

"Sherlock? Are you in here?" he knocked at the door and got no answer "Sherlock? Sherlock I'm opening the door." he turned the doorknob and entered cautiously "Sherlock are you all right?" the shower curtain was drown, the water still running "Sherlock?" he pulled the curtain. Sherlock was in the bathtub, hand on the wall in front of him, back turned to John, his head under the spray of water. He was shivering, teeth chattering violently.

John took the closest towel "Sherlock, what are you doing?" since his flatmate wasn't answering, he turned off the water. Both hot and cold were turned on but the spray was freezing cold. He threw the towel over Sherlock's shoulders and started rubbing his arms and back. He searched for another one and found Sherlock's bathrobe "Sherlock, give me your arm, you have to put on your bathrobe. For god's sake Sherlock, what have you done?"

John climbed in the tub and kept on rubbing Sherlock's arms. He put his hand on the detective cheek to find it stone cold. He helped him out of the tub, closed the bath robe, dried his legs and feet. Since his hair was dripping he rubbed it too with a dry towel. "Come with me." he said leading his friend out of the bathroom.

John sat Sherlock on the sofa, covered him with a blanket from neck to toe and made tea. He sat on a chair in front of the frozen man and waited until he stopped shaking completely. Since he had found him on the bathtub, Sherlock hadn't watched John in the eyes once and now the doctor wanted his friend to look up at him.

"Sherlock, can you explain what happened?" he asked softly.

Sherlock kept silent, contemplating the mug he was holding with both hands as if it was the most difficult riddle in the world.

John laid his hands lightly on the detective's lap and leaned his head forward to encourage his friend to speak. Sherlock took a glimpse of John under his lashes.

"I...I wanted it to go away." he answered in a ghostly voice

"What? Sherlock, look at me, what did you want to go away?" John started to be scared

"This annoying thing, this..." he finally met John's eyes "Lately I've found myself having trouble dealing with disturbing thoughts," John squeezed Sherlock's knees lightly to show his support "thoughts about you John." he stopped talking to measure John's reaction, the doctor didn't move, waiting for his friend to resume his explanations."At first, I was upset by you being with this dull girlfriend of yours spending time doing whatever you've been doing. Then I started hating these patients of yours for keeping you away from...here...during the day. When I tried to understand why I was so upset, I failed to find a reasonable explanation. I had one in mind though."

"Sherlock..." the detective raised a hand to keep John from talking "Please...The most annoying thing wasn't in my mind. I found myself having physical disturbances too. I was terribly aware of your presence in a room, still am. Being close to you gives me goosebumps and every time you touch me I feel electricity run though my spine. Yesterday when you thought you burned my arms you brushed my skin, spread ointment on my forearms and it felt like a caress. I tried not to think about it, to take it for what it was, but I found myself being irrational. Then we spent the evening watching crap TV, I tried to watch the show to prevent my mind from over reacting once more but you fell asleep and slid on the couch, your head fell on my shoulder. We've spent hours like that, I tried to think, clear my thoughts once and for all. But you had a nightmare, I tried to wake you and you attacked me, your body so close to mine that it reacted in a way it never did before. I needed to touch you more but I knew it wasn't a thing to do without explaining and I couldn't explain anything. You left and I spent the night thinking about it. When the sun rose I was completely sure that, in spite of my massive intellect, I couldn't do anything about the disturbance you've created. And to be absolutely frank, I didn't want to do anything about that. The more I accepted...that, the more I wanted to be close to you, the more my body reacted. I came back to my senses though, but my body needed to stop burning so I went to the bathroom and took a shower. You found me there."

Silence fell in the room. The two men kept still. After long minutes John sighed and broke eye contact. He removed his hands from Sherlock's lap and rubbed his face.

"Sherlock..." he paused not sure of what to say "Sherlock...it's a lot...it's a lot to compile, " new pause "I..." John looked back to Sherlock's face and was shocked by the extreme fatigue he saw there. Oddly enough he was still holding his mug. John took it from him and put it on the coffee table. He lifted his left hand, kept it in the air for a second or two, then stretched it and brushed a still wet lock of hair from Sherlock's forehead. The detective closed his eyes like a lazy cat but didn't dare to move.

"I suppose I'll have to do without a shower today." John said smiling mildly "But I have to work this morning. Sherlock, can you please promise me to dress warm and eat something? Please?" Sherlock nodded absent-mindedly "Seriously, I'll be back in the afternoon, don't do silly experiments or take another shower until then." The detective lifted his eyes to his friend and nodded more convincingly this time.

John went up in his room and got dressed. When he got back to the kitchen, Sherlock was spreading butter on a half burned toast. He took it to his mouth and bit. John smiled and took his coat "Be back soon." he said.

He pushed the surgery's door, physically here but head on a blur and he passed Sarah without seeing her.

"John? Are you with us?" she asked

"What? Oh Sarah, sorry...did I miss something?" he remembered he was supposed to be angry with her, upset by their break-up but right now he didn't care. He didn't care about her...at all. He thought about Sherlock. He left him quite rapidly after their...no...not conversation...since his confession. He left him alone, glass on the kitchen table, blue, maybe radioactive, liquid still on the floor, his mind blurred, his feelings probably hurt.

"Sarah, would it be a problem if I came home right now, there is something I have to take care of and it's most urgent."

She opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it, John looked distressed. She nodded to signify it was okay with her.

"Thank you!" he said walking to the exit door.

He climbed the 221B Baker street stairs two step at the time, entered the living room in a hurry and was surprised to see Lestrade sitting in an armchair. Sherlock was on the sofa pictures in his hands.

"Oh sorry," he said "I didn't know you were here Lestrade. Hello." John felt silly. He looked at Sherlock. The man was quite shaken by his flatmate unexpected entrance but he regained composure almost immediately and Lestrade didn't notice a thing.

"Hello Doctor Watson, I came to see Holmes with a new challenge, since there are strange marks on the body, your medical experience may be helpful. If you don't mind, have a look at the picture, please." Lestrade looked tired, he explained the body had been found in a park in the middle of the night and he had been called at 3 in the morning and hadn't had the chance to sleep since then.

John sat next to Sherlock and he leaned over to watch the picture in the consultant detective's hand. the victim was a male, he was shirtless, skin white as chalk with blue bruises all over.

"Teeth marks," John said "I'd say adult mouth...it's strange...they are upside down as if the biter started on the shoulder and finished somewhere around the waist...but...there are dozens of them...can't say if it's post-mortem or not. Do you know the cause of death?" he asked.

"I don't have a lot of informations right now, overdose or heart attack, no blood. I came to see if Sherlock...and you, could come at the morgue this afternoon." Lestrade sighed, "might be really helpful."

John turned his head to look at Sherlock, he was still pale, he had found time to get dressed but hadn't had time to sleep.

"I'll text you." he said and put the picture back in the file.

Lestrade stood up, thanked the two men and took is leave. John watched as the policeman closed the door and turned back to Sherlock meeting his eyes.

"You should be at work." he said in a lifeless voice.

"I thought I had to be where I'm needed most." John looked at Sherlock's face with fervour.

"What changed?"

"Nothing," he moved closer, lifted his hand to cup Sherlock's cheek "It was already there."