"That." John began, "Was amazing."
Sherlock had just finished 'deducing' John, he hadn't heard praise for his deductions in so long; well that wasn't necessarily true but the praise always had a hint of spite. Jealousy at his talents usually or annoyance at their darkest secrets being revealed. John's was honest and pure, he couldn't help but dig a little deeper.
"You really think so?" He asked.
"Of course it was extraordinary!" John nodded, "Quite extraordinary."
"That's not what people usually say," Sherlock allowed himself a faint smile.
"What do they usually say?" John asked, ever curious.
"Piss off." Sherlock grinned, John laughed.
They had only 'met' a day ago and they were already slipping back into their banter, something that had been absent for years. Sherlock hadn't realised how much he'd missed it.
When they arrived at the crime scene he exchanged the usually 'pleasantries' with the police force and headed inside. Though he would never admit it he was grateful to Lestrade. If he hadn't stumbled upon one of the man's crime scenes those years ago he probably would of gone mad with grief without the distraction they bought.
The body was easy to deduce, the words, invisible to all but him, flew up before his eyes. All the data being sorted into his computer like brain and stored, he barely had to use his powers at all. He would need them to find her bag though, that suitcase was pertinent to his investigation. John examined the body, not nearly as fast as he would of done in the past, but still excellently done.
He raced down the stairs; he needed to find that suitcase and to do that he needed to use his powers. In the past John would have been at his side through the whole thing but now John didn't remember, so he'd have to be alone.
Quickly he jumped up the fire escapes and scaled the walls of the tallest building in the vicinity, the higher up he was the easier it would be to find the suitcase. Quickly glancing over his shoulders to make sure nobody was watching he flicked his eyes closed and open again. However instead of natural grey when he reopened them, his irises burned white. He couldn't see it but he knew his hair was now white also.
He flicked through his different fields of vision, Night vision, Heat vision, People Vision, Data vision. Ah!
Data vision always gave him a bit of a headache, especially if there was a lot of things in his sight. Right now he was receiving data from almost every person in the immediate vicinity, as well as every crack and stain on the walls, dumpsters and roads around him.
That crack on the street below him was exactly 0.789 metres long, it was caused by a man dropping a lead pipe 3 months and four days ago.
The skid marks on the alley way were cased by a BMX bike last night at exactly 4am. The bike was being ridden by a man in his early twenties, he was high.
It took him a few minutes to sort through all the data currently flowing through his brain. He remembered when he was a child, before he knew how to delete unnecessary information how terrible the pain had been. A minute of data vision had caused him terrible migraines for hours on end. John had helped him through it of course but it hadn't made the experience any less traumatic.
Finally he spotted the suitcase. Pink. Belonged to a woman in the victims age range. Matched her dress. That was it!
He snapped his data vision off, his eyes and hair faded to their usual colour and he was off. Sometimes he didn't need to use the powers to their full extent, he could manage so that only the roots of his hair turned white and his eyes didn't glow. The odd colouring could be attributed to lighting or something else dull ordinary people could come up with. Occasionally if he needed to use his People Vision to deduce somebody he could hide his hair with a hood and eyes with dark contacts but those times were rare. He was still a genius without his powers after all. Collecting the suitcase while texting John. His head gave a dull throb, without John to help him using his powers had become very stressful over the last few years, he needed nicotine patches.
-oOo-
He slapped on the third patch and gave a sigh of relief as the drug worked its way through his system, dulling his headache. He had figured out cocaine worked much better some time ago but Lestrade wouldn't let him work cases if he was using. John was shocked by the three patches, he'd just said it was a three patch problem.
The truth was he needed more than a normal person; his body had a natural resistance to almost everything. He would have to be careful about that he realised as he sat at the table an Angelo's. He could last three days before he felt hungry, the same went for thirst. He only needed a minimum of ten hours sleep a week to function properly and it would take three bottles of extra strength whisky to get him drunk. This resistance did have it's downsides of course. It took what would be a lethal dose for normal people of cocaine to get him high, always a hassle.
He would have to appear more human now that John was around, eat more often and sleep. Well, appear to at least. It made Sherlock's heart ache to think about it, John was just as resilient as him, he didn't need all that food or rest like he thought he did. His brain had been tricked into thinking he was normal. Even if it made Sherlock grip the table with rage at what had been done to his Omega he kept quiet, John was happy and that was the most important thing.
Ignorance is bliss.
-oOo-
Alphas needed their Omegas, it was how it worked. Sherlock was an Alpha and John had been his Omega since before he could remember. He stood there, pill in hand ready to take the plunge, without his Data Vision on full he couldn't be sure if he was holding the right pill or not. But he couldn't risk showing a normal person what he could do; if he did he would be as good as dead.
Suddenly there was the sound of a gun going off and the cabbie has fallen down, red spewing from the wound in his shoulder, he was dying, that much was obvious. Sherlock turned to see the bullet hole through the window; it had been fired from the room across the gap in the buildings, a crack shot. It was only for a second but Sherlock saw him, he was standing there, gun in one hand, he hadn't even thought about what he was doing he'd acted on instinct, Sherlock could tell.
Nobody could make that shot without at least bringing their second had to steady the firing hand. Then again, John wasn't just anybody. He was still an Omega, even if he didn't know it.
He turned to face the cabbie again, cursing when he saw that he was dead. He didn't get the name of his 'sponsor'! He'd been distracted by John, who was now gone.
Cleaning this up would take timeā¦
He quickly gave a completely wrong description of the shooter, not at all minding that police time and energy would be wasted on the search. He met John's eyes as he got to his feet, John knew he knew. They did their best not to giggle at the crime scene, John passed it off as nerves to the people staring at them. Sherlock's stomach rumbled and he remembered it had been about four and a half days since his last meal.
"I know a good Chinese, stays open til 2am." He suggested, John nodded happily.
Reviews make me smile :) They also inspire me to write so please do tell me what you think, I can take constructive criticisms but please don't flame me if you hate it!
I will be explaining and expanding on both John and Sherlock's 'powers' as the story progresses
