**thanks to my beta Pigfartsnut. I'm sorry but after this chapter updates will be sloooow because of reasons**
pigfartsnut
A loud bell sang out through the mess hall signaling the end of breakfast. John began to stand up but was stopped by Sherlock.
"Sit," Sherlock said releasing his grasp on John's arm. "We have the special privilege of being escorted by dear old Mr. Todd."
"Oh, okay," John sat back down, his tray echoing in the empty room. "So, as I was saying, I was a student at St. Bartholomew's in London-"
"Oh?" Sherlock said, an excited glow leaking into his eyes .
"You know St. Bart's?"
"Yes, I often ran experiments there when I was in need of laboratory conditions, mostly for my cases."
"Small world," John grinned, and Sherlock returned it wholeheartedly.
"Well, not entirely small, in fact it is the largest thing you will ever see..."
Heavy footsteps broke through his words and Sherlock grabbed the two trays and deposited them at the kitchen window.
"Here to collect you, Holmes," Todd said, leaning on one of the tables. Sherlock stooped and offered his shoulder once more to the shorter man.
When they had returned to the cell, Sherlock quickly dropped John's arm.
"Thank you," John said quietly.
"Come on Sherlock," the guard said impatiently.
"Where are you going?" John asked, a twinge of worry and fear leaked into his voice. The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards.
"Warden requires his presence, Mr. Watson," the guard said mockingly.
"Oh, I see," John said slowly. Sherlock made an attempt to give John a reassuring smile and then let himself be led away.
"Mr. Watson," the guard added quickly. "A guard will be by soon to take you to the medical wing, I noticed your shoulder was looking a bit... um... rugged."
"John Watson?" A younger light haired man peered in as he unlocked the door, "I was told to talk you to the medical wing."
John stood from his seat on Sherlock's bed and limped, quite pathetically, across the small cell.
"Mid-day meal time!" The phrase echoed down the hall way of the cell block followed by multiple cell block doors clanking and sighing as guards opened them. Many guards passed, but just seemingly overlooked John's cell. John, who had been returned to his cell only moments ago, had new gauze and a sling that he had sweet talked the nurse into giving him.
John had taken a seat on Sherlock's bottom bunk, when a loud bang brought John out of his thoughts. In strode Sherlock looking unhappy and slightly annoyed. John caught Sherlock's eye and his angered expression seemed to falter at the sight of John lying across his bunk. John's face turned red and he sat up, clearing his throat. Sherlock held out a hand to the blond man. John looked from his hand to Sherlock, and back again before grabbing it and hauling himself off the mattress. The guard just rolled his eyes and trailed the two men to the cafeteria.
"One hour, forty-five for yard time" was broadcasted over the PA. John followed Sherlock's lead this time and stay put until Todd showed up to take them to where they needed to be.
"So, you've a brother involved heavily in the government?" John asked with interest. Sherlock nodded solemnly. "Couldn't he help you out of this?"
"I suppose he could," Sherlock said scowling at the prospect of his brother helping him.
"Oh," John murmured. "I see, sibling rivalry."
Sherlock half glared, half smirked at his companion, a frightful sight to say the least.
"Yard time, gentlemen," a voice boomed as he walked over to the table. "Grab your bitch and we'll head out."
Sherlock's face was suddenly rigid and stoic, John looked up with shock spread across his face and color creeping into his features. The taller man rose from his seat and went around the the table. He wrapped John's arm around his shoulder and they trotted off toward the court yard.
"Does he really think I'm your bitch?" John whispered into Sherlock's ear, making him shiver.
"I believe that was a joke," Sherlock said. Looking ahead, a stony expression settled across his face. John just nodded and let the subject drop.
John squinted at the bright yellow light that shone over the dusty fenced-in field. Sherlock led John over to a rusty bunch of bleachers overlooking an unkempt football field where ten or eleven inmates were kicking an orange ball back and forth down the yard. Sherlock helped John sit on the ground and joined him as he withdrew a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.
"What are we doing down here?" John asked.
"We are waiting," Sherlock took a drag and continued, "I am smoking."
"Waiting for what?" he asked as he leaned back on a metal post.
"Something interesting." Sherlock said, shrugging.
They waited, but in the end nothing did happen. Todd came to fetch them and returned them to the cell block where they played rummy on Sherlock's bunk until dinner.
"Goodnight boys," Todd said grouchily, after he locked up. "Tomorrow's my day off, Sherlock so you have to deal with Martin. Please don't make him cry again."
Sherlock sighed but didn't argue. John began to settle into his make shift bed on the floor when Sherlock came over to him and held out his hand.
"What?" John asked suspiciously
"Hand."
John hesitated, but grasped Sherlock's hand. When John was upright Sherlock whipped around quickly and in almost one graceful movement, leaped into the top bunk. John stood in for a short moment before half limping, half stumbling into the bottom bunk.
"Thank you," John said turning over on his side. He buried his nose in the pillow, it smelled like Sherlock. John hummed as he breathed in the a pleasing mix of cigarettes and coffee.
Sherlock poked his head over the edge of the bed "What... are you doing."
John nearly jumped out of the bed in surprise and embarrassment. His face went very red and he was glad for the darkness in the room.
"Er... nothing," John bit his lip. "I... your pillow... it reminded me of a, er, song."
John winced at the lameness of his excuse. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, but John could see from the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that he was smiling. Which, made him burn even redder. Sherlock's gaze engulfed John and a shiver ran down his back.
"Okay," said Sherlock, and then retracted his head. John rolled into the pillow and groaned quietly.
Sherlock smiled to himself.