Author's Note:
Current Timeline: A few months before The Fall.
I really enjoyed this chapter, I hope you do too! :)
"I really don't think this is a good idea Sherlock, you need more time."
"I haven't got any more time. I need to get back to work."
"I may not be a genius like you Sherlock but don't insult what intelligence I do have. This isn't about that."
Sherlock rolled his eyes as he sat on the bed to put his shoes on. "Alright so it's not but I just can't lie around here anymore waiting."
"What do you expect to happen by leaving the hospital? Do you think Moriarty will call you up and say 'oh good, you're out of hospital now I can try and kill you again'." John said with dark humor.
"Of course not, he wouldn't have to wait for me to be out of the hospital for that. I need to get out of here and stretch my legs. It's been a week and a half."
"You're still not able to manage the pain without the morphine, and there's no way they're giving you any of that to take home and self-administer.
"That's what I have you for." Sherlock said with a sly smile.
"Oh and you just assume I'll be your live in doctor tending to your every need when you should still be here."
"Well…yes. Why else do you think I keep you around?" Sherlock said teasing.
John sighed resigned to his role because he knew Sherlock was resolved to discharge himself. John also knew he'd be right there taking care of Sherlock even if he was being an irresponsible, stubborn, arse.
Sherlock signed the appropriate papers and he and John left the hospital grabbing a cab back to Bakers St.
"Ahh. I feel better already!" Sherlock exclaimed stepping into the flat taking off his coat and scarf.
Sherlock hurried up the stairs, too quickly he realized becoming very winded upon reaching the top. He'd have to remember to take it slow, at first at least. Sherlock grabbed John's laptop, sat in his chair, and began browsing through the new cases that had been piling up.
John was usually very annoyed that Sherlock insisted on using his laptop all the time. Just this once he'd let it pass as he was secretly happy to see Sherlock sitting in his chair looking through emails like normal.
"I'll make some tea." John said smiling subconsciously.
John put the water on. Neither he nor Sherlock had had a substantial meal that mourning so he shuffled through the cupboards for some biscuits or muffins. God bless Mrs. Hudson for always doing a bit of shopping for them. He finished the tea, made up a tray with some jam, and brought it out and sat it on the coffee table.
John actually laughed a bit at this extremely domestic action. Maybe being back at the flat wouldn't be such a bad thing he thought. His momentary ignorance faded as he remembered. There was still the looming threat that Moriarty, either of them as it was, could come in at any moment and send them right back to the hospital, or worse.
John sat with a slump and poured himself a cup, staring into it contemplating what was in store.
Sherlock looked up from the laptop momentarily noticing John's solemn look.
"Normally I'm the one that sits silently lost in thought." Sherlock said inquisitively.
"What are we going to do?" John asked frankly.
Sherlock knew exactly what, or rather who, John was referring to. "We are going to solve cases."
"Jim said his brother would try again, and we have no idea how or when. What's even more insane is that I say Jim Moriarty like he's even a reliable source. How do you know this isn't just a rouse to confuse you?"
Sherlock shut the laptop. "It's not."
"Alright then. So there's two Moriartys. Jim and his older brother James. James is trying to kill you for who knows why. And Jim wants to offer you protection for who knows why. Both are complete psychopaths. Either way what's the plan? We can't just go on like normal until something happens."
"You shouldn't allow this to disrupt your life. When there's a major play in motion I'll know."
"I know you're not one for waiting Sherlock, if there's something going on, some angle you're working-"
"John. Trust me." Sherlock said looking straight into John's eyes.
John trusted Sherlock Holmes, sometimes to a fault. That was how he made it to this place, entangled in the web of criminals. But Sherlock had led him out of the melancholy civilian life he had been facing into the battleground of London's streets where he could be the soldier he was. John would always trust Sherlock Holmes, despite any faults.
John couldn't help but feel enslaved by his trust in Sherlock, now more than ever. And therefore, being simply asked for trust by the man meant more.
"Of course." John said suppressing the true emotion behind it.
They held each other's gaze for longer than either of them realized until John sheepishly looked down again at his tea.
For now the topic would rest.
Sherlock stood up from his chair and strode over to his web of notes, evidence, and pictures on the wall. He stood there staring and thinking.
John finished his tea and announced he was going to take a shower which, naturally, Sherlock didn't register.
Sherlock shifted through his mind from case to case, like usual solving most of them without ever having met the client. Those were consequently pushed aside as unimportant. He then moved on to the slightly more intriguing ones and made a note to set up meetings to learn more. There where one or two in particular that stood out from the rest and he decided those would be their next venture.
Sherlock looked around slightly disoriented. Where's John he thought. He heard the dull patter of the shower and remembered. He shook it off and back into his mind palace he dove.
He connected lines in his mind from place to place. He scanned through evidence and pictures. He began developing an idea for an exciting new series of experiments.
Again Sherlock looked around. John's been gone a while? Hasn't he? No, never mind he thought again remembering.
It went on like this for the next few hours. Sherlock would be deep in thought and suddenly there he was, John. Where was John? In the kitchen. What was he doing? Reading a book. Something would remind Sherlock of John and distract him. It was so frustrating and he couldn't make it stop. Why was this happening?
Surely it couldn't just be John's physical presence that was distracting, it never had before. He'd need to test this theory. Perhaps some time alone in the flat would allow him to concentrate.
"We're out of milk." Sherlock said louder than he meant to.
John looked up from typing on his blog. He was completely confused by this outburst as Sherlock had been standing in the same spot for the last four hours. He hadn't gone near the fridge.
"What?"
"Milk. We need some. Can you go to the market?" Sherlock said not looking away from the wall.
"Now?"
"Yes please."
John didn't understand but Sherlock had just said please, which was an extremely rare occurrence. He certainly wasn't going to discourage him from saying it in the future by declining.
"Um…okay I guess." John closed his laptop and put on his coat. "I'll be back soon then, want anything else while I'm there?"
Sherlock actually did require a few items for his latest experiment idea. John would ask what they were for and that would lead to a longer conversation and that wasn't the goal he thought. One experiment at a time.
"No nothing else for me."
"Alright then."
John left the flat and Sherlock was finally alone.
An hour or so passed until Sherlock heard the door open downstairs. Interesting, he thought. Minus one minor incident, Sherlock had managed to stay on track with his thoughts. What did this mean he wondered?
"Sorry I took so long, I grabbed some take away on the way back." John called up the stairs.
John hauled some grocery bags and a brow package of take-out food up the stairs and set it on the 'clearish' table.
"I don't care what you are doing, stop now and eat something." John said firmly.
Sherlock groaned but surprisingly obediently joined John in the kitchen and began to clear the table.
John noticed Sherlock moving rather slowly and almost wincing a bit with each action. "Sherlock are you in pain?"
Sherlock tried to better conceal his pained movements. "No more than to be expected."
"This isn't going to work unless you tell me when you're hurting. I need to know in case it's something serious. Unless you'd prefer to go back to the hospital" John said in his best commanding officer voice.
Sherlock sighed. "Alright yes. But I can't think with the morphine. It's only good for…" Sherlock realized perhaps now wasn't the time to reminisce. "I can handle it."
"Yeah, until you pass out. Then you really won't be able to think." John grabbed the pill bottle from his 'secret hiding place', which Sherlock knew all about. He knocked out the pills and held them out. "I never thought I'd say this, but take the damn pills."
Sherlock smirked a bit and John shot him an unamused look.
"Fine. Doctor." He said reluctantly accepting them. Sherlock was curiously captivated by John's 'take charge' attitude. He considered being wounded more often.
They ate in silence as usual. Sherlock ate his entire portion for once, of course not realizing how hungry he had gotten. John cleared the containers and Sherlock went to shower.
Just as John had finished tidying up in the kitchen and sat in his chair there was a knock at the door. John sighed and started down the stairs. Bloody client probably. He really needed to post an 'out of office' sign after eight he thought.
He opened the door revealing a tall woman with hair up neat, ruby red pumps, and lipstick to match. She looked like she had just stepped off the cat-walk. There was something else, John thought he recognized her but he couldn't quite remember from where.
"Ehem…Hello?" said the woman impatiently.
John hadn't realized he'd been staring. "Yes, hello sorry. What can I do for you? Are you here to see Sherlock Holmes?"
"Why yes I am. I do apologies for visiting at such a late hour. May I come in?"
"Yes of course. He's just washing up I'm sure he'll be out soon. You can follow me." John led her up and into the sitting room. "Please take a seat anywhere you like. Would you like some tea?"
"That would be lovely." She replied sitting in Sherlock's chair.
John smiled and turned to the kitchen then realized he had forgotten his manners. "I'm sorry I'm John Watson. I don't think I got your name?"
"Oh yes, Ms. Moran."
"Pleasure to meet you Ms. Moran. Tea will be right up."
She smiled politely in acknowledgement. John busied himself making up a pot for the three of them.
Sherlock emerged from the bathroom wearing slacks and a t-shirt. He walked into his bedroom not taking notice of the woman. "John do you know where I put the bible. I've just thought of something." Sherlock yelled down the hallway.
John smiled wearily at Ms. Moran and quickly scurried toward Sherlock's room. "We've got a guest Sherlock, said she's here to see you so client I assume." He said quietly.
"Oh. Excellent"
Sherlock walked down the hallway to meet the latest client. It would make for a perfect end to his first day back, assuming it was an interesting one. His attitude could've almost been mistaken for excitement. He reached the sitting room and suddenly stopped.
John looked at Sherlock confused. Obviously he had recognized Ms. Moran. And then it hit him, this was the woman Sherlock had gone to see the night before the shooting. He didn't know what to make of the two glaring it seemed at each other.
"Awfully bold of you to come here alone." Sherlock said condescendingly.
"Whoever said I was alone?" Ms. Moran replied confidently.
"Oh I'm well aware of the men you've got park outside but they will be of little use in here."
"That's why I've brought this." The woman pulled out a small handgun from her handbag and aimed it at Sherlock.
John's eyes flashed as he took a step toward Sherlock defensively, but he was waved off. "I'm sensing I've missed something." John said cautiously.
"This is Sasha Moran. James Moriarty's right hand. The woman who led the failed mission to kill me. Tell me was he very cross with you?"
"That can easily be corrected now." She spat.
"We both know that's not why you've come."
Moran's eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Very well. This was merely for your compliance." She stood. "Dr. Watson, if you'll come here please."
John looked at Sherlock for guidance but Sherlock's eyes were fixed on the woman. He wasn't afraid, he was a soldier before he was Sherlock's blogger. He confidently walked over to stand in front of Ms. Moran.
Sherlock had no way of knowing what was about to happen or how to get the gun out of the madwoman's hand. Dozens of scenarios played out in his mind, all of them ending in either he or John being shot. He needed to get control of the situation.
She raised the gun to John's chest. "That's close enough." She placed a small vial on the end table. "Pick it up." She instructed.
John eyed the small vial suspiciously. It contained a clear liquid.
"Now if you please." She insisted
John hesitantly picked it up.
"Open the vial and drink."
"What? What is it?" John demanded.
She remained silent.
Sherlock's eyes widened. Was he about to witness his best friend be poisoned? He had to stop this, but he didn't know how.
"What is it?" Sherlock now demanded.
Ms. Moran smiled. "It's just a little incentive. You see Mr. Holmes, my boss has decided that he may have acted a tad rashly before. You have utility. This here is a rare toxin that becomes lethal within three days if the antidote is not administered. That's where you come in…You will be contacted with instructions for a job he wants completed and in return John Watson will live."
"What if I refuse to drink it?" John said with as much courage as he could muster. "You should just shoot me now, I won't allow Sherlock to become your pawn on my behalf-"
"John-"Sherlock tried to stop him but John continued.
"And you've already said you haven't come here to kill him, which means you aren't authorized to."
Sherlock looked down sadly, he knew what was coming next.
"You should leave the deductions to the detective…Quite the contrary in fact. If you won't play the game than we have no use for Mr. Holmes. If you don't drink, I've been instructed to kill him right here, right now." She turned her gun again on Sherlock. "What will it be?"
John looked at Sherlock who looked like he was about to explode from the thoughts desperately trying to work a way out of this. John knew he had no choice. Never mind himself, this would be Sherlock's best chance of survival.
"John, no. John, don't. Please, you don't need to do this." Sherlock pleaded though he knew the alternative was his own death.
"We'll figure it out Sherlock, we always do."
John opened the top. He chuckled much to Sherlock's surprise. "It was a pretty good day, other than this."
John tipped back the vial and swallowed.
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Next part up ASAP.