AN- Well I know I said I'd probably be late but... surprise! It's early instead. I realised that I won't be able to post on Monday due to not being anywhere near internet access (I'm already crying, how am I going to cope?!) so I've sorted this chapter out for you all. As always, let me know of any mistakes and I hope you enjoy.
B
x
Once alone in the room, Moriarty turned to the doctor. John seemed to have a light back in his eyes, it was dull and barely visible but it was there. Jim grinned as he snaked an arm around the soldiers waist.
"I think you'll make a brilliant consulting criminal." He cooed, using his other hand to tap John on the nose. The doctor gritted his teeth.
"I am not going to go into your job." He snapped. "It's bad enough I was brought here to play eye candy for you. I never want to be in one of your meetings ever again." Moriarty jumped up and down on the spot, clapping his hands. The doctor blinked, unsure where in his last sentence he had said something which the psychopath would have found good. The criminal flicked out his phone.
"It seems Shirley wants you for a case. A proper case, not just something to get you out of the house or away from me. I'll get Jeeves to give you a lift." He stated, not giving the doctor a choice in the matter. John rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Now let me get out of this bloody suit." He growled half-heartedly. Moriarty tutted with a shake of his head.
"Now now, Johnny, I think you look too good in that suit. You don't wear it anywhere near enough. Besides, Shirley wants you to keep it on." John was ushered out of the room and into the awaiting car before he could even think of a reply.
On the way, John twirled his fingers on the condensation of the window pane. It was crazy, the look that Moriarty had given him. He thought back over what he had said and sudden realisation hit him. He had stood up for himself. That was what the criminal was so happy about. Which was worrying as Jim had a thing for him being entirely helpless. John guessed that the consulting criminal didn't like it when his prey was too easy to catch. He looked out of the window and saw the police cars outside a small, rundown flat. The car pulled up and he heard the locks click open. Jeeves, the driver, got out and opened the door for him. He stepped, much to the awe of the police officers who stood watching him, out and straightened out his suit. Sherlock was waiting with a slightly flushed expression, one which said he was desperately trying gain control of his body. The doctor smiled slightly and walked with slow deliberation to his partner.
"You owe me." He murmured lowly before walking through the door. Sherlock nodded, red blush now clear on his high cheeks.
Inside, Lestrade turned with a mirrored expression to every other police officer they passed, bar a few who looked in appraisal and wishing they had got in there sooner to ask the doctor if he was taken. The DI stood dumbstruck for a few moments then shook himself and spoke.
"So what's the special occasion?" He asked politely. John rolled his eyes.
"My annoying genius finally wormed his way into getting it me then demanded I wear it." He replied. Greg gave Sherlock a look, the detective looked through the door into the room where he knew the corpse was lying, John was clearly feeling much better but Sherlock still didn't feel right about something. The doctor had his spark back, his hand wasn't shaking, but something was different. The annoying thing was that he couldn't quite place what it was that that had changed and not knowing was driving him insane. He grabbed the soldiers arm and dragged him away from the DI before the man could pry any further and pushed him into the crime scene.
The stench was almost overpowering. Almost. Which meant that the corpse had been lying there for well over two days. John turned to Sherlock, the man was already prancing about the place so this was definitely a proper case. The detective scanned every minute detail of the room, while slipping on a pair of gloves he pulled from his coat pocket, then he looked over at John with wild eyes burning.
"Well go on then," He yipped, practically vibrating with anticipation, "Go do your doctor-y stuff on the body." The soldier rolled his eyes, trying to stop the grin from forming on his face. He knelt beside the body, a male in his forty's at a guess. It was hard to tell at first glance what had kill him but on opening the mouth, the doctor had his answer.
"He was poisoned." John stated, looking up to his partner. Sherlock smiled dangerously smugly. Of course he would already have known that. The soldier folded his arms. 'I know you're dying to tell us how you figured it out.' He pushed, not actually asking Sherlock to tell him but knowing the man was going to use it as an excuse to anyway. The detective rocketed into his deductions, John tried his best to keep up but he fell out of sink somewhere around 'unhinged cupboard door'.
The detective soon realised that the doctor wasn't taking in what he said and was about to stop before deciding that he would just explain it in simpler terms when they got back to the flat, John wouldn't appreciate being singled out in front of the Yard. Besides, they didn't understand it anyway and he was damned if he was going to shine a little light on their vast void of ignorance, the shock of it might just kill them all and he definitely didn't want to ask help for covering up bodies again, Moriarty was still holding him on the last time they had a body to hide.
Sherlock skirted around the room one last time before turning back to the DI, barking out where they would find the killer- a young man who wanted to see if the stuff he bought actually worked before using it on his very suspicious wife. Lestrade, just glad to have this case out of the way, nodded and sent a group of officers almost immediately. Before Sherlock had a chance to leave, the DI was stood in front of him. John felt a chill in his blood and he shook his head slowly but the greying detective paid him no heed.
"Sherlock, I can't help but notice that John keeps appearing with strange bruises. Now even had many conversations about the origin of these and I'm still not sure that he's being entirely truthful with me." Sherlock glanced at Lestrade.
"You think that I'm abusing John." He stated, annoyed that the male was even speaking to him.
"Basically, yes. It's not right to see a good man beaten and strangled and still walking around like it's nothing. Hell, it's not right to see anyone like that." Greg answered bluntly. The taller male barked out a humourless laugh.
"Do you really think I would?" Sherlock asked. "I hate contact with the rest of this plebeian race to begin with, do you really think I would waste time to injure my only friend?" Behind him, John scowled. He was fighting not to go over there and telling the DI that next time he butt in his nose was going to be yanked off his face.
"I honestly don't know, Sherlock. What I do know is that John is constantly attracting bruises."
"We have dangerous jobs, always chasing criminals."
"More like being chased by them." The doctor huffed, earning him a smirk from his flatmate.
"Can you be serious for just one minute?" Greg Lestrade asked, "I don't think that you chase criminals every night." Sherlock was about to reply but the DI silenced him with a hand. "I don't want to hear excuses. One more time, Sherlock. If I once more find bruises, cuts or fractures on John which weren't as part of the job I will be coming for you." John growled, grabbing the Yarder's attention.
"It wasn't him. I won't tell you again." His tone was low but not quite threatening. Greg gave him a sharp look then walked out. After a few moments, the soldier worked up the courage to look at Sherlock. The detective was staring intently at him but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
"No more, John. Greg's right. This shouldn't happen, no matter who's doing it."
Back at the flat, John was surprised to see he had a visitor. Steve smiled jauntily and grasped him in a strong hug.
"John!" He cried happily. "I swear you're the hardest man in the universe to find.' He chuckled. 'This is the fifth time I've tried to get a hold of you. Still, you're here now. Mrs Hudson is the nicest woman in the world, by God-" The rambling continued for a good few minutes before the man finally got onto the reason he was there. 'I made the rounds with the lads and they all said yes to meeting up. We woz wondering when ya think would be a good day?' He asked cheerfully. Sherlock scowled at the unwanted visitor. John gave him a warning glance before putting on his best smile.
"Great, you know what? I could do with a pint or seven after the day I've had. Can you call round and sort it for tonight, any pub will do." He replied, feeling the scowl of his flatmate turning into a livid stare of hatred which was now directed at him. Steve smiled brightly and patted him on the shoulder, the good one but that was more out of luck than actually paying attention to what he was doing.
"Good man! I'll get the gang, we'll pick you up about seven, yeh?" He asked. John smiled and nodded.
"Yeh, that sounds great. See you later, Steve." The large man bundled out of the door with an almost skip in his step. The doctor watched him leave with a chuckle on his lips.
"Why are you going out?" Sherlock questioned, John sighed at the sulky tone of his flatmates voice. This was not going to go well.
"Because, oddly enough, I do need to have some time with people who aren't you or Jim. I've spent the last Lord knows how many months not out of the combined sight of you two. At least give me one night every now and again." He answered, keeping his voice calm.
"But… I was going to spend the evening with you. We'd be with Moriarty till later so we could do what we liked. I was going to lock the bedroom so he couldn't get in." Sherlock whined.
"Did you ask me about any of this, I think not." The doctor realised how harsh that sounded and added, "Besides, you know I wouldn't be having sex tonight, not after this morning. I'm still recovering from that, by the way." The thinly disguised argument was briefly abated.
It took all of three minutes for Sherlock to start it back up again though.
"Do you hate me?" A sully voice asked. John turned to the pouting features of his flatmate and rolled his eyes.
"We are not doing this." He stated, pushing past the sulking man. Sherlock grasped him by the arm.
"Why? Because you don't have the time?" He snapped. John grit his teeth.
"No, because I am not going to have this argument with you. Or Moriarty, for that matter. Steve is my friend and God help me, I need some normality. I am going to the pub tonight. If you or Jim follow me I won't be touching either of you for a month. Got that?" Without waiting for a reply, the soldier marched up the stairs. Sherlock watched him leave with a growing dread, he was beginning to see what had changed.
AN- Well that's it for another week, we should be back to normal come next Monday.