Hello readers and reviewers!
xImperialGirlx : Soon, oh how impatient you are :)
PerfectlySoundAnalysis : Yeah, bad timing are bad, bad bad timing (okay...)
TheScienceODeduction : A chapter and a half, keep that in mind (and take the bets^^)
hardcore-muffins : Hope you feel better :)
Catindahat : Thanks^^
Helenecolin : ^^ (BTW c'est normal que le forum soit locké pour les nouveaux?)
I Am The Masquerade : Love your avatar!
KathAdrian : Merci (euh par contre Lestrade euh non je compte pas le tuer là de suite :p)
The Red Leper : That's the problem with this fic isn't it? :) Will they finally end up together? (suspense?)
XMillieX : Thank you :)
I'm really tired these days. I hope my english is not too bad...
Sorry if it is...
Chapter 4 – Back seat
"Are you going to say something John?"
"Ah, No. I mean do you want to ear something in particular or should I just talk about the weather or bulgarian politics?" John was pissed but tried to remain calm if not polite.
"I was under the impression you wanted to tell me something back in the flat."
"Nothing special. Where are we going exactly?"
"Whitechapel."
"Murder?"
"Murder."
"How original. If it's another killer pretending to be a descendant of Jack the ripper I come back home and never follow you on a case, ever!"
Sherlock chuckled and gave John one of his childish look. The doctor felt his heart melt and smiled back.
"You wouldn't do that." Sherlock whispered as he looked deep in his roommate's eyes
"You know I wouldn't." John sighed
What is it I see in your eyes John? I'm sure you wanted to tell me something earlier, what was it? What are you hiding from me? I'm sure there's something I should know.
"Here we are." The cabbie said breaking the instant.
When I talked about bad timing I didn't talk about cabbies did I? My mistake then.
… … …
"What do we have?" Sherlock asked the DI the moment he saw him.
"Well, hello to you too, hello John," the doctor nodded "looks like a settling of scores between two gangs. There is a marking on the wall."
"What does it says?"
"It says Now we have control. But I think you should see it by yourself." He showed the building to the two men. It was a large shed which was meant to be destroyed soon. It's been completely emptied.
"I told you to keep Anderson away from the body." Sherlock growled.
"Sherlock, Anderson is working for the police. He is a competent forensic and you are..." Sherlock glared at Lestrade and the DI didn't dare to finish his phrase.
"He is coming when you need him and resolves the cases you're making him work on 99% of the time..."
"100%" Sherlock interfered
"100% of the time" John said "so be careful of what you say and remain polite."
"I'm sorry, I..." Lestrade mumbled.
"Come on." John said walking in the body's direction.
I like it when you talk like that John. It makes my heart beat faster each time. I should make you turn your soldier mode on more often. For it turns...me...on. Oh...Well all right.
Anderson reacted to Sherlock's arriving in a really Anderson's kind of way. John made him stop with a menacing glare and the forensic retreat mumbling.
John if you don't stop being that erotically bossy I'm going to have to hide a hard on. Oh...that's what is it so. It's not just about kissing and groping it's about fucking. I think I'm beginning to understand what all this is about.
No you don't...
They got a close look to the corpse. It was lying on a large pool of blood, a bullet in the head. The words Now we have control have been written on the wall with the victims blood. There were footprints everywhere, most of them coming from the stupid forensics and some from unknown persons, killer or not.
"John, are you hungry?" Sherlock said as they were bending over the cadaver.
"As strange as it seems, since we are checking for needles marks on a corpse whose missing half of it's head, I'm absolutely starving."
"Good, you should grab a sandwich and a large coffee somewhere, we are spending the night out of the building." He stood and hailed the DI leaving the amazed doctor deal with the corpse.
You infuriating bastard! I fell for it once more.
Half an hour later John came back with a bagel and a large coffee.
"John!" Sherlock ran to him "We're going to spend the night on this car's back seat." He pointed at an old Fiat parked across the street. "We need to see if anybody comes to the shed tonight. That's absolutely important we remain vigilant."
"Right, but why us? Why not the police?"
Sherlock frowned and John sighed.
"We have a blanket and, I see you bought coffee. Where ready then."
"If you say so." The doctor mumbled.
Okay, seriously, John...I mean, back seat, night, one blanket...come on...
"Where will Lestrade be?" John asked between too mouthfuls of his bagel.
"Home, I suppose." Sherlock answered casually.
"You mean we stay here alone?" The doctor frowned.
"Are you scared of the dark John?" Sherlock smiled.
Not of the dark, no...
"All right, let's go now." Sherlock put his hand on the small of John's back enjoining him to walk to the car.
John walked to the car.
Sherlock opened the Fiat's door and sat on the back seat first, the doctor followed and closed the door behind him.
"I can't believe you make me do this." He mumbled.
… … …
"Don't drink all the coffee, John." Sherlock grabbed the Thermos flask and put it to his mouth.
"I can't help it I'm freezing! I need heat!"
Sherlock sighed, unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around the doctor.
"Ah, thanks."
Do you want to come near me, under the blanket, aren't you cold, Sherlock?
Will you ask me to come near you under the blanket, John?
Will you switch your brains on, Sherlock and John?
"What time is it now?" The blond haired man asked yawning.
"Approximately fifteen minutes later than the last time you asked. Somewhere around 1am."
"I'm going to say something you are used to say : I'm bored." John said a shadow of a smile on his lips "And, I'm also tired and cold. Is that really necessary?"
"John, if you're bored, we can talk, if you're tired, finish the coffee, if you're cold," I can warm you up "well you already have the blanket. And yes, I need to be sure of something so we need to stay here a bit longer."
"All right, I give you one hour then I go back home. What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. Why don't you want to talk to your sister?" Sherlock
"Why don't you want your brother's help." John
"Is Sarah still your girlfriend?" Sherlock
John stayed silent for a long minute, he didn't expect this question.
"No, she isn't." The doctor said while locking eyes with the detective's. Sherlock leaned a little closer to John when suddenly a dog barked close to the car and the blond haired man turned his head.
"Is it who you were expecting?"
No it wasn't, of course it wasn't. Sherlock didn't expect anybody to show up. The dead man was a schizoid who couldn't stand to ear voices anymore. He bit his lips and used the blood to write the words Now we have control on the wall and then killed himself with a gun. The gun has been stolen by a man wearing Converse size 9 on the right foot and Nike size 8 on the left one, probably a homeless man. His left leg was slightly shorter than the right one. Black hair (the victim was blond), 130 pounds (more or less), 6'2 tall (exactly).
Sherlock didn't expect anybody.
"No." The detective said.
"All right." John was grumpy now.
This is unbearable, I need to be at least ten feet away from him or I'm going to jump him on this back seat which, apart from being absolutely unromantic, would be a little too aggressive especially if he doesn't want it. I'm so intoxicated by his presence that I almost thought he was, I don't know, interested in me in some way. I am fooling myself. It's not good, not good at all.
After half an hour of silence, in spite of the thoughts that tortured him, John fell asleep.
How does it fell to touch you John?
Sherlock opened his coat. He gently rest his hands on the doctor's shoulders, he didn't want him to wake, then, as slow as possible he made the sleeping man move and leant his back on his warm chest.
That feels really good.
He put his arms around the shorter man and rest his own cheek on the top of the blond's head. After a moment he buried his nose in the silky blond hair and inhaled slowly intoxicating himself with it's smell.
You smell good.
Do you taste good? I'd love to lick your earlobe right now. Would you wake up, John? If I run my tongue along your neck, across your chest or nipple, would you open your eyes. Would you stay or would you run? Would I run after you, catch your arms, pin you on a wall and keep on tasting you? Would I let you go?
No. I wouldn't.
Sleep, I'll be there when you'll wake up.
Sleep.
My love.
At last!
They stayed like that almost two ours when John jumped suddenly, opening his eyes wide shouting an unarticulated word. Nightmare.
"John, it's all right, you're in London not on the battlefield, you're with me. It's okay."
"Oh god..." John rubbed his face "Oh fucking god!" His heart was beating fast and his eyes were full of tears. He tried to control his breathing and after several minutes sat straighter and turned his head to look at the detective's face. "What time is it?"
"Four in the morning."
"I'm going home."
"I call a cab."
When they came back to 221b John made tea and sat on the sofa.
"You should go back to sleep."
"I should, but I can't."
"Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Sherlock sat next to John. In silence.
The sun rose and they heard life invade the streets.
"I'm going to work."
John got up and left.
I...what should I do, John? How could I... Oh yes. That's it!
What is it?
Come on!
(review!)