John couldn't believe that he was living with Sherlock, and he only met him the other day! He sat in his chair and thought on how this all happened in the first place.

"So, Sherlock… You're… Just thinking?"

"Yup."

"On the bridge? Why?" John questioned, crossing his arms as Sherlock adjusted his weight, he wondered how in the hell made him want to sit on the edge of the bridge… maybe because it's peaceful? Maybe he likes being alone and isolates himself from the rest of the world. John thought watching as Sherlock tried to find the right words to say.

"Well, it helps me think. When I'm "working" I like to think in a quiet place, like this." He said, his bright blue eyes gleaming with humor. "What about you? Why are you here? You just decided to walk on over here?" Sherlock said, smirking a bit. John sighed, looking down at the ground for a few short seconds, he looked up.

"Let's just say… I'm… Lost." He said with a slight chuckle. Hoping that Sherlock got the hint that he had no idea where he was supposed to be going. True, John had lived in London before, but he just recently came back from Afghanistan, he doesn't remember London that much anymore. He saw Sherlock laugh at him, he blushed a little and tried to ignore it. "So, could you help me out? I mean, I don't know where I'm supposed to go so-"

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock blurted out, making John stare at him with a confused look.

"Pardon?"

"Roommates should know about these things, how do you feel about the violin and me talking nonstop for hours on end?"

"Are… you asking me to live with you? Just like that?" John asked amazed, he just met the guy, and he doesn't know a thing about him and vice versa. Sherlock simply nodded and got off the edge, standing in front of John now, adjusting his coat and held out his hand.

"That's exactly what I'm doing." John looked at Sherlock's hand and looked up at him, the look of bewilderment was very present on his face as Sherlock just stood there with his hand in front of him.

"But we don't-"

"I know that you're an ex-army soldier that came from Afghanistan, and that you have an injury in your…Left shoulder, and that your spirit animal is a cat." He paused, seeing that john's face expression told him all that he needed. He was amazed. "Should I continue?"

"That… Was amazing, brilliant!" John said, his eyes gleaming with fascination and grabbed Sherlock's hand. They both shook hands and Sherlock started at him with a bit of shock.

"You think it was brilliant? That's a first…" John quietly laughed.

"Why how do people usually react?" John asked, letting go of Sherlock's hand and crossed his arms again. Sherlock looked and chuckled, when he looked up again, his expression was a bit more serious.

"They usually get annoyed and tell me to piss off." Sherlock said, putting his hands behind his back, and stood up straight, "Well, shall we go?"

"Go where? Oh! Yeah, sure." John said, running his hand through his hair real quick. "Can I just get my things first? And maybe possibly meet you wherever tomorrow?" John said, being equally serious with Sherlock. "And where are we meeting by the way?"

"Go ahead, gather your… things, I'll see you tomorrow." Sherlock said and he started to walk away, he stopped and turned "And the address is 221B Bakers St." He gave a quick wink and said good night. Leaving John to stand there awkwardly and alone.

John started to walk back to his place, hoping that he could remember the right way to get there. The sound of his phone going off made him stop. He got his phone at stared at the text message. Take a left at the next crossing, go straight and it's the first building on your right. No need for thanks. –SH

John stared at the text and shook his head, SH… no, it couldn't… he looked down at his wrist revealing his bracelet. S.H. … He started to smile, could he be the one? John's smiled faded, but… his bracelet didn't glow… or get warm in any way. At least… he didn't notice. Then again, he really didn't pay any attention to that sort of thing anymore. John started to walk again, but his thoughts continued, when John got his bracelet at the age of 10 he cared, he looked and searched. But after a few years… he gave up. He smiled, remembering how obsessed he was when he got his bracelet. He said names over and over again, not finding the right one. His mother would just laugh sweetly at him and told him not to rush things, and that he'll find that special someone one day.

When he finally arrived at his destination, he sighed. He laughed at himself, How in the hell could he possibly forget where he was staying at? That's just bloody stupid of him for forgetting. He looked at the address. 348 Boulevard St. John stared at the address for a few more seconds and went inside. When he got into his room, he sat down on his bed, and he stared at the bag the sat on the floor in the corner of the room. He got up and grabbed it, putting it on his bed he began to pack. 'Well John… Tomorrow will be interesting.' He thought to himself.

"John?John are you listening to me?" Sherlock snapped, and broke John from his deep thought. John looked at him, He nodded and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm… Listening." Sherlock looked at him with suspicion and sat back in his own chair. He placed his hands together and put them up to his face, like he usually does when he's thinking.

"Good, because I need you to do a favor for me." He said, his serious expression staring intently at John, it made John a little uncomfortable but he did his best to hide it.

"And what is that?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, the intense look on Sherlock's face made John blush a little, John mentally scowled at himself and waited for Sherlock to tell him what he wanted him to do. "I need you to go and get me some… Items." He finally said, not once did he move or his tone change. John sighed.

"Like what, Sherlock?" Sherlock's gaze drifted off somewhere behind John, which made John shift uncomfortably, but he was able to get a good view of Sherlock's bracelet, the bland silver bracelet just sitting comfortably on his wrist, unlike John's where it rather was a bit loose. "Sherlock?"

"Salt, bleach, and chocolate bars." He finally said, drawing John's attention to Sherlock's face again. John gave Sherlock a confused look, but knowing that Sherlock was zoning out and wasn't paying any attention.

"Wait, so you want me to get salt, bleach, and… Chocolate bars?" John asked really confused now, "What on earth do you need all that for?"

"The salt and the bleach are for an experiment." Sherlock said, still not paying attention, his eyes narrowed even more.

"What about the chocolate bars?" John asked, sitting back, arms crossed with an annoyed look. Sherlock finally drew his gaze to John, with a hint of humor in his blue green eyes.

"I just simply love chocolate John, not a bad thing."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, I-" Sherlock cut him off before he could finish.

"Getting them sometime today John, would be lovely." He said his tone deepening in annoyance. John just shook his head and got up, grabbing his coat he looked back at Sherlock.

"You know, I didn't mean it as a bad thing." He said calmly, hiding the anger and annoyance building up in him. Sherlock waved his hand in the air, shooing John. Without another word, John left their living room, he headed downstairs and told his goodbye's to Mrs. Hudson, their landlady.

Sherlock sat there, in his chair and thought. He was in the middle of a case and he didn't bother to ask John to join in, not yet at least, John did mention that he was an army doctor, and how he did medical things, but Sherlock could care less at the moment, he needed to solve this case now, so then he could do his own investigation for something more important. He sat back in his chair, going into deep, deep thought. "Think…" He said aloud, staring at the wall in front of him, "How did the murderer do it? He clearly is an amateur at what he's doing, but yet the police can't figure it out. And the victim… ARRAAHG, THINK!" He shouted, he was getting frustrated, and he needed to calm down. Sherlock got up, and walked up to the wall that stood behind his couch, that was littered with clues and theories.
The picture of the murdered victim was in his mind and he started to think that maybe he did need John for this case, the way the victim's body was when they found it may need a medical opinion. Sherlock shook his head. Get him out of your head for now, you need to concentrate. He mentally yelled at himself for thinking of the blonde man. Then again, John could be the one. "John." Sherlock said, and he looked down at his bracelet. The slight warmth that came gave Sherlock a little hope, but it wasn't enough. He looked up, and growled at himself. FOCUS YOU IDIOT. He silently screamed.

John can't believe that he had to go all the way to the store, and get Sherlock what he needed. He was lucky enough that he sort of remembered where the shops were at, but it just felt weird… Having to get salt and bleach? What kind of an experiment would you need salt and bleach? That doesn't make any sense at all. John continued to walk down the sidewalk, he was on his way back now and Sherlock kept on popping up into his mind, the way Sherlock said that he liked chocolate made John… feel, happy? Yeah, it made John feel happy. He didn't understand it, but it did. The way he sat in his chair, the way he narrowed his eyes, the way- John stopped and let out a sigh, why was he thinking like this? It wasn't bad or anything but… Maybe there was something about Sherlock that made him feel that way. John laughed to himself and continued on his way home, the bag in his hand and a small thing of bleach in his other hand. Once he managed to find his way to 221B Bakers St. he just headed straight up to their flat, when he entered the room, he saw Sherlock on his laptop, his eyes narrowed and focused, it made John slightly blush, Sherlock didn't notice that John had entered the room and just continued to look at whatever he was looking at. John cleared his throat, not getting any glance, he just continued. He put the bag and the bleach on their kitchen table that was littered with science like things. "I'm back. So… yeah." John said awkwardly, he walked back and sat down in his chair, he looked at Sherlock with what it seemed like tired look, Sherlock didn't even glance at John the only movement he made was him leaning back, the look of satisfaction on his face.

"What's wrong?" He said, and looked at John, his face with both a look of triumph and worry. John looked at him with a bit of shock that he asked that, but he sat straight in his chair.

"Nothing, just… A bit tired. I just want to relax for a second, ya'know?" John said, looked towards the wall that held all of Sherlock's work. He looked at it with a questioning glance, "What's that?"

"Nothing, well- yeah, nothing." Sherlock quickly said, he continued to look at John, he could feel Sherlock basically scan his body with his eyes. He'll never get used to it, ever since he moved in with Sherlock, every chance he got, he stared at John. His eyes trailing downward, and up. John just thought Sherlock was checking him out, he probably is for that matter, but the way Sherlock put it, it was "Deduction" and he was simply just reading John. John blushed at the thought. "Actually." Sherlock started, looking away from John to look at the wall, "I might need your assistance."

"Assistance?" John repeated, looking confused. Sherlock looked back at him with amusement, John thought he had missed something that Sherlock had said, but the way Sherlock shifted in his seat to lean forward and his eyes gleamed at John.

"You said you were an ex-army doctor right?" Sherlock asked, his eyes filled with curiosity and amusement.

"Yeah, why?" John said, furrowing his brow. Sherlock clapped his hands together, setting John's laptop aside, and stood up, John following. Sherlock walked up to the wall, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"John, what do you say about this?" he said, pointing to a picture on the wall of the victim, John looked at Sherlock then at the picture, he winced.

"Well, I'd say that that girl was murdered, brutally stabbed, and or gutted. Why…?" He asked, turning to Sherlock, who was doing that stare again.

"You've seen a lot of deaths then?" He asked randomly, throwing John off for a second. He nodded, his breath slightly shaking.

"Yes, far too much." He said, looking away from Sherlock, trying not shudder out of the memories from Afghanistan. Sherlock narrowed his eyes again, John glanced up. He does that way too much… John thought. Sherlock didn't say anything else for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Sherlock spoke, the words calm, and low.

"Would you like to see more?" John's face grew hot, his face couldn't help but bring out a small smile. His heart sped up as he replied.

"Oh, god yes."