Several weeks later...

He arrived not too early, but not too late to surgery and he had already spot a few patients waiting for him. A little girl smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back. John spotted Sarah in the waiting room. She changed her haircut, now it was shoulder-length with curls. She was wearing a denim skirt not too short and a white camisole. When she saw him, she greeted him with a slightly kiss on his cheek and a cup of tea. Without saying a single word, John made his way to his office and locked the door. Certainly he was needing a hand job.

"Got anything?"

Sherlock removed his gloves and looked once again at the dead body lying on the floor. It was a woman in his late forties.

"This body has traces of soap, and certainly someone washed the body after killing her to erase any trace he could have left. Yes, he. She was strangled and she has some bruises in her neck, which means the killer is a man. Probably her lover. But there is some stains in the floor, probably blood. Call Anderson to take the samples and send them to the laboratory. I assure you this blood isn't from her and when you catch the suspect, do a DNA test with the skin under her nails."

Lestrade took some notes and before Sherlock could leave the crime scene he asked him about the situation. It had been weeks since the body swap thing and apparently they hadn't found a 'cure' to go back to their respective bodies. No matter in which body Sherlock was, he was still being the same with his weird manners and personality. It was the same to Lestrade, and even the Yard was already used to see the figure of Doctor Watson every time they had a complicated murder to solve.

"I can't say I'm pleased to be inside John's body."

"And how is he? I know he's still working -"

"I'll send him your regards." Sherlock left the crime scene before Lestrade could start with his interrogatory again and was determined to go back to Baker Street, but he decided to make a stop first...

Five minutes. Angelo's - SH

He really didn't know what to think when he read that text. A tiny little voice inside his brain told him something wrong was going on. Angelo's was usually the place where Sherlock always went for food when he was stressed or in a bad mood, for example, when he was angry after not having succeess looking for the words in Luckis and Van Coon's books

I have my lunch with Sarah - JW

We need to talk. Five minutes. Angelo's - SH

Yes, definitely something wrong was going on.

When he arrived at the Italian restaurant, Sherlock was already sitting in his usual table near the window and with two plates with pasta, warm ready for him. Immediately Angelo, the owner of the place, made his way to the table to greet him. Apparently Sherlock didn't explained the man about the body thing because he shook his hand happily like he used to do with Sherlock.

"I hope you have something important to tell me -"

"John, you have my permission."

John placed his long hands on the table and then passed one over his face, trying to think what Sherlock was talking about. His dark curls were falling over his forehead and eyes. He remembered he had to go and see some hairdresser but now he needed to concentrate in his flatmate.

"Do enlighten me, Sherlock. I can't read minds like you, remember?"

The only consulting detective in the world closed his eyes and sigh deeply and noisily. It was a wet and cold day and his shoulder was hurting like hell. No matter how much oils or body creams he used, his shoulder always hurt with the weather change. His limp was back, but he hid the stick under the table. He wasn't the man who couldn't say what he wanted to say, but this time it was hard.

Even for him.

Damn.

"You have my permission to do whatever you want with my body. If you want to shag that woman, go. If you want to have a tattoo, go. If you want to cut my hair -"

What the fuck?

"What's in your bloody head?"

For the first time since they were flatmates Sherlock was speechless in front of the Doctor. John looked angry and Sherlock could recognize his own face when he was angry, even when now his facial features were different.

"It had been months, John. No matter how much I investigate, how much blood samples I look at, we can't go back to our bodies."

A brunette woman knocked his boss's door and waited patiently for an answer.

"Come in."

She opened the office's door and placed several files on his boss' desk. All of them were neat and organized alphabetically. The man smiled at her gratefully.

"Thank you dear. Where are them?"

"Angelo's."

She handed him her BlackBerry and he nodded at the screen.

"Let's keep the security around them"

"What? Are you suggesting that -"

Sherlock's mobile went off.

It was Mycroft.

"Tell me."

John looked at Sherlock curling his lips upwards.

God.

The detective took the stick from under the table and made his way to the door, smirking at John.

"Forget everything I told you and let's go. We're going back to our bodies now."