Chapter Two
John came down the stairs calmly, stopping short as he saw his 'host' bent over what appeared to be human remains. 'He is a psycho!' John quickly thought as he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the stairs. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching slightly.
"Don't give me that look. It's an experiment. Legally acquired the leg. Well, legal if you think that no one will notice it missing." He drawled whilst sliding a sharp knife over the decaying flesh. John put a hand to his mouth and groaned out, "Why are you doing this?"
Sherlock glanced over his shoulder once more, amusement shining brightly in his eyes.
"Someone has to know when a laceration was induced on the body. Before death? After Death? How long after death? Was it already decaying? Someone has to know. That someone is me. Questions?" Sherlock asked.
"Can't you do that some place besides the kitchen table?" John asked.
Sherlock let out a snort. "My house, my table." He gave John a look before bending back over and oh so slowly, as if to make sure John could hear the sickening sound of flesh parting under a blade, he went back to hacking up the rotting limb.
"I see why you have no flat mate…" John retorted.
Sherlock waved a hand in dismissal towards the young man, showing the fact he was touching a decaying, dismembered body part with no gloves on. "Who said I wanted one." The taller man muttered under his breath, tossing the blade in the sink and wrapping the leg up in plastic before stashing it in a hall cupboard.
"So why take me in?" John asked.
"My decision. One you don't need to know. But, I can assure you," The man broke off to enter John's personal space and loom over him, "It's not to be 'buddies'."
"Well I don't need one." John said annoyed, waiting for the detective to respond.
"Fantastic. Neither do I." Sherlock brushed past, lowering himself gracefully into his chair and pulling out his laptop, tapping away at the keys as if John no longer existed in his world. John looked at Sherlock curiously and sat in the chair close to the mantel.
"Why do the police go to you?" John asked, hoping for an answer.
Sherlock ignored the question entirely, continuing to study the latest news articles. John went into the kitchen and found an apple. He looked at it and then at Sherlock. He thought of throwing the apple at Sherlock. He sat back in the chair, tossing it from hand to hand.
"Don't eat that. It's an experiment." He glanced up sharply from the screen, giving the boy a pointed look before going back to his research.
"This has to be a joke, right? you can't be human." John said annoyed.
Sherlock snorted as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and glanced at it before tapping out a response to Lestrade.
Bring food. Brats hungry. –SH
John put the apple back in the fridge and glared at Sherlock, not believing this man was human.
"You could act not so rude..."
"It's not an act. This is who I am." The man muttered, frowning at his phone before pocketing it and going back to his laptop.
"You're always like this! Who thought it would be a good idea I stay here?" John asked, walking up to Sherlock.
"Oh, so you know how I act on a daily basis, do you? It's been, what, a day?" Sherlock drawled, leaning back in his chair and slinging a long leg over his knee. "It was my idea, if you must know. After all, I'm better protection then the police ever will be." Sherlock cocked a brow, "Or would you prefer to die a painful death due to the incompetence of the police?"
"You will protect me? With what?"
Sherlock gave him a bland look before springing from his chair and pinning the other to the chair opposite. "My body. My intellect." He pressed harder against the boys arms before letting go. He was unnaturally strong and hoped the boy felt it. He once more sunk into his chair, but this time discarded his laptop. John didn't move out of shock that he even let himself be caught off guard, he just stared at the man unsure what to say at this point.
The taller man gave an obvious look of dismissal as he pulled out his violin and began to violently pluck at the strings, his gaze going blank as he retreated to his mind. His guard was still up, he could still react to outside stimuli, but he would no longer pay attention to anything not threatening. Once John got over the shock he stood up, "Is there any food I can eat around here?"
Lestrade took that moment to waltz in the door, a bag of take out in one hand and a case file in the other. He unceremoniously dumped the food in front of John and looked at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow.
Sherlock continued to pluck at the strings, but had seen the man come in. He had come out of his trance the minute he heard Lestrades footsteps.
"I brought food for you, too." He said towards the prone form still plucking at strings. Sherlock sighed and lowered his instrument.
"No need, I have about three days before I need to give my body nourishment. Don't want to slow down my brain functions for something as useless as digestion." He stated, reaching out to take the case file, opening it and thumbing through it. He already knew most of this. His brow furrowed as he quickly scanned the pages in hopes of finding new information.
"You're the guy from the hospital." John said
Lestrade glanced at John. "You're the kid from the hospital." He mocked before pointing at the bag, "Eat."
The detective sat down and studied John, ignoring Sherlock who was muttering and scanning the pages at an alarming speed.
"You sound as bad as the freak." John said, annoyed.
Lestrade bristled but said nothing. He noticed that Sherlocks hand stilled slightly before going back to skimming the pages. John ate while looking at the two men curious as to what Sherlock was looking at, he'd never get the answer if he asked.
"So, why you here?" John asked the grey haired man.
"To give him that and apparently give sustenance to a brat who doesn't seem to deserve it." Lestrade sniffed in Johns direction before glancing at Sherlock. "Found anything?"
"No." Came the deep baritone reply, frustration lacing it as the tall man once again went through the papers.
"Right, I am a brat." John looked at Lestrade, "So, I suppose you're his friend."
"I don't have friends." Sherlock muttered at the same time Lestrade replied with, "Something like that."
The two glared at each other before Sherlock went back to his papers and Lestrade glanced away.
"I wonder who would be friends with the great Sherlock Holmes." John murmured
Lestrade nor Sherlock felt the need to grace the boy with an answer for such a question.
"Can I ask when I get out of this place?" John asked.
"When we deem it safe." Lestrade replied. "For now, stay put. Try not to cause Sherlock grief for he is going out on a limb for your ass."
"Sure whatever, like I care..." John didn't look at neither of the two men.
Sherlock slammed the papers onto the table. "Nothing. Just nothing. I need to go to the crime scene." Sherlock ground out. Lestrade glanced at the consulting detective.
"Not yet. You can't. You have company to watch over." Lestrade replied, ignoring the burning glare the other gave him. "Don't give me that look. You can go to the crime scene another time. They're not calling for rain so nothing should be amiss."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Aside from the trampling feet of Anderson and his crew." He muttered before going into a sulk.
Lestrade huffed before standing abruptly. "I better go. Have fun you two."
He smiled thinly at them before leaving.
"Crime scene?" John asked looking curiously at Sherlock.
"None of your concern." Sherlock replied, picking up a discarded sheet of evidence and scouring it once more in hopes of missing something.
"What are you some kind of detective?" John asked.
"I don't know, am I?" He replied, amusement slipping onto his face as he cryptically added, "Think."
"I will take that as a yes." John said.
"Then you'll only be partially right based on an assumption and thinking my words are plain as day." He muttered in return, slamming the paper down on the table forcefully
"Partially... what am I missing?" John asked curiously.
Sherlock just gave him a stare before once again going over the files. "What am I missing." He muttered before standing up and pacing the length of the room, coming to a stand still at his skull. He glanced at it before going into a long tangent in French, working out the details he knew and going over them with his 'friend'.
John thought for a moment, "Wait you're a consulting detective, right?"
Sherlock glanced at the boy. "Bien, and how would you know that is my title owing to the fact I'm the only one in existence due to the fact I made it up myself?" He muttered, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as he regarded the boy.
"Maybe it's a lucky guess... I am not exactly stupid." John had a feeling he said something that gave him away. "Or maybe I looked you up..."
Sherlock spun on his heel and looked down his nose at John. "When? You have nothing on you. No computer. Your cell phone, maybe, but you couldn't have before meeting me." He leaned in really close. "I'm not exactly well known, I do my best to keep out of the papers." He snapped back up straight before going back to pacing and muttering things in French.
"Maybe I used your computer." John retorted.
Sherlock smirked at him. "It's password protected and I see no evidence whatsoever of someone other than me touching it. Also, it was in my room last night and I was awake."
"What is your point, Mr. Holmes?" John asked glaring at him.
"You know fully well what I'm getting at." Sherlock replied with a poisonous look. "I need not clarify for your benefit."
"Is that so?" John smirked at the consulting detective.
Sherlock didn't dignify that with an answer, going to the picture window and staring out at it, receding into his mind. John knew he made a mistake but he wasn't about to tell his boss. The young man could fix this easy.
Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)
Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)
All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.