Author's Note:
Current Timeline: A few months before The Fall.
Hope you enjoy!
The next morning dawned in the hospital. It was only ten when Sherlock demanded that John go back to the flat to get some proper rest.
"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, you've made that brutally clear. There's no sense in you being stuck here along with me."
"Sherlock I really don't mind, I want to be here." John urged.
"You don't need to lie John, I see that anxious look on your face and quite frankly your constant presence is very distracting."
Sherlock believed John's anxious demeanor was a result of being "cooped up" in the hospital. Sherlock didn't understand that behind John's anguished expression he was constantly worried that Sherlock's attackers might come to finish the job and he had no idea who they were or how to stop them. John paced because Sherlock's test results hadn't come back and he wasn't out of the woods yet concerning effects of his trauma and there were several more tests still to be done. Most of all John didn't leave because last time he did, he came back to find his best friend dying on the sidewalk.
"It's not a lie. And distracting you from what?"
"From thinking. I need to think clearly and you're just pacing about not doing anything useful so you might as well go somewhere else and be useless there so I can."
Although it was a lie, Sherlock knew a cruel statement like that would drive John away for at least a little while. Sherlock did find a sort of comfort from John's presence but he needed to be alone. Sherlock also notice how exhausted John looked and that he hadn't left the room long enough to eat a proper meal. Maybe he was confined to awful food and unsatisfying sleep but Sherlock was going to make sure John wasn't.
"Sherlock, I'm just-" Sherlock cut off John with a dismissive wave of his hand.
John wanted to make Sherlock understand why he didn't want to leave but his resolve was crumbling. If Sherlock didn't want him there he would leave but only for a little he told himself. No matter what he said John knew Sherlock couldn't handle this on his own this time.
"Mycroft is coming by later so I won't be alone for long anyways." Sherlock lied hoping it would convince John to go take care of himself.
"Fine." John sighed.
John put on his coat and started for the door uneasily. He opened it to leave but he wasn't going to let Sherlock have the last word this time.
"Don't over work yourself trying to solve this case right now with Mycroft. You think you're up to it but you're not okay."
Sherlock opened his mouth to try to reply but John continued.
"And listen Sherlock, me being here isn't just for you ya know. I'll be back tomorrow morning."
And with that John left.
John's words almost passed Sherlock by. He thought that John had stayed by his side out of some sense of obligation as his friend. It never crossed Sherlock's mind that the whole situation was taking a toll on John. He was John's best friend but maybe Sherlock didn't really know what that meant. Sherlock never imagined that he could matter so much to someone that his pain would be shared. His mum and dad never knew what Sherlock was really up to. Mycroft did but he had his own problems. Sherlock never had someone looking out for him like John. There was that damn guilt.
That afternoon Lestrade knocked softly at Sherlock's open room door.
"Hey Sherlock, how are you feeling today?"
"Oh God. Not you too. Stop pretending to be concerned and let's get to why you are here." Sherlock said exasperated.
"Alright alright, why am I here? I was confused when you texted me to come. On the phone we agreed you could come in when they released you."
"Don't be absurd, that was for John's benefit. He was practically glued to our conversation. I will tell you everything I know now, I've managed to get him away for a while."
"Why? You two always work together. And he is worried about you Sherlock, probably more than you realize."
Lestrade was right, Sherlock didn't realize just how much. Sherlock glossed over the remark and went on. "I have my reasons. You are not to tell John anything we talk about understand?"
"Last time I checked I was the Detective Inspector here."
Sherlock looked at the Lestrade with a "you're kidding me" expression.
"Fine, begin when you're ready."
Sherlock told Lestrade everything, information he had deduced about the shooting, about the woman, and pointed him in the direction of the culprits.
"Just like that? You've figured all this out in the 48 hours you've been conscious?"
"No, before that. I was frustratingly stunted at first but after a successful experiment I was able to put the pieces together. Unfortunately I underestimated the lengths she and her associates were willing to go to cover their tracks." Sherlock said with disappointment in himself.
"If you've already solved it then why keep John out of the loop?"
"I need him to think I'm still working on it while I pursue something I know he won't approve of."
"Sherlock I don't want to help you do something stupid and get yourself shot again."
"I'm not asking your permission. You'll do this if you want to protect John. That is what police do isn't it, protect people?"
"You're people."
"No I'm not."
Lestrade looking hesitant gave in. "There never is much sense in arguing with you, just promise me if this thing you're pursuing gets dangerous you'll bring John or I in."
"Promise." Sherlock said lying.
"Well then I've got some searches and arrests to preform...Be careful Sherlock." Lestrade didn't miss the irony in his warning to the man lying in the hospital bed, shot.
Lestrade left conflicted but he knew Sherlock could handle himself, or at least he convinced himself to believe it.
Sherlock looked at the vase of roses on the counter next to him.
Flashback:
They had arrived the evening before. He had been extremely annoyed that Mycroft had sent him flowers. Flowers were meant to cheer up the sickly. Sherlock wasn't one for cheer nor was he sickly. Mycroft called around seven that morning and denied having sent them. Sherlock hung up becoming very interested in them now. He noticed the arrangement of red and white together which was usually frowned upon for hospital patients. The superstition suggested that they signify blood and bandages when placed together, an omen of death. He reached for the card in the middle.
On the front in plain typed script:
Remind me to screen my thugs better next time. Needless to say he won't get the chance to botch another hit. Maybe these flowers will finish the job for me.
-M
Sherlock's face immediately sank into a grimace. Now he knew the true scope of the situation. He felt an overwhelming wave of dread and excitement. It was only a matter of time.
Sherlock placed the card face down on the table. It was several moments before he notice there was something written, hastily it seemed, on the back.
We should talk. xx
-JM
For the first time in a long time Sherlock was completely perplexed. The messages where obviously from two different sources. What did it mean? What was Moriarty up to? Sherlock knew there was only one way to find out. He tucked away the card so John wouldn't see it and grabbed his mobile.
Tonight. You know the place.
-SH
Send.
Sherlock's phone buzzed. Good, the number still worked.
I'll count the seconds. xx
-JM
A little shorter this time but it felt right to end the chapter here. Finally some Jim coming up :)
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Next part up ASAP!