Chapter 7

Sherlock and John had both raided the pantry for what was left for food. It had only taken them a matter of minutes to raid what was there and generate a small pile from it. They both stood staring at it in disbelief. Both of them had naively thought that there had been more food there than what had been. John doubted that it would be able to adequately feed them even one meal.

"If he doesn't get full off of this, he'll just eat you…"

John immediately shook the thought away. He couldn't allow himself to dwell or think on such paralyzing thoughts at this moment. He had to give this getting-to-re-know-Sherlock thing a good, solid effort. Besides, he felt he was outfitted well enough to protect himself from him if things went south.

Sherlock moved slowly alongside John, eying the food there while he let out a thoughtful hum.

"I suppose we could always ration what we have left. If we don't count today, we only have five more days to get through before we change back anyway."

Sherlock extended a claw towards a package of hot dogs that lay idle on one side of the pile and drew it towards him. He smiled slightly as he held the speared dogs up on his claw towards John, who immediately began to retreat as if Sherlock had just brandished the world's greatest weapon. Sherlock chuckled at John's reaction, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Are you really afraid that I'll hurt you with a pack of hot dogs?"

"I wouldn't put anything past you," remarked John before snapping himself out of his fear and trying to back track, "I mean...could you maybe place them on the counter and we can cook them instead of waving them about?"

Still chuckling slightly, Sherlock obliged and slid the pack off his finger and onto the counter. As soon as it lay to rest on the counter, John slowly inched towards it. He claimed it with his hands and immediately ripped it open; his stomach growling with a new found hunger. Before John could go about the kitchen to get out a pan to cook them in, Sherlock's voice cut through the air with a halting question.

"How about we do a trust exercise?"

"Excuse me?" asked John as he turned to look at Sherlock; the pack of hotdogs lying limp in his hands for the time being.

"You heard me. Lets make this a trust exercise of sorts…"

Sherlock turned to let his gaze wander the flat. He walked over to the utensils drawer that was still halfway open and nodded his nose down towards it. John watched him perform the motion. The scared hobbit part of him told him that he was probably looking for a knife, while the rational soldier part of John told him that he didn't need a knife to kill him. John walked towards the drawer with slow steady steps, still holding the hot dogs.

"What about the drawer, Sherlock?"

"Oh bother...John, don't you see what I'm hinting at?"

"No, not really…"

"Put the hot dogs down for a moment, would you please?"

John looked at Sherlock, unsure about that action for a moment. Sherlock let out a long irritated sigh that he had seemingly kept inside himself for a good amount of time.

"Trust me, John. If you put those hot dogs down, I won't eat them all on you nor will I turn against you to eat you. All I'm asking is for you to put them down momentarily so that you can retrieve the skewers from the drawer."

"Skewers?..."

"If you even let the thought of me using the skewers against you to cross your mind, you're in for it."

John smirked at that slightly, nervously almost. He took a deep breath as he laid the hot dogs aside and waddled towards the drawer. At John's waddling, Sherlock had to keep himself from laughing again, especially as he noticed that as John approached, his forehead glistened with sweat.

"You know I won't hurt you if you decide to shed a few layers of this protective gear, or whatever it is you're calling that…"

John stopped in his tracks, panting a bit, not from the physical exertion, but from the layers of clothing.

"Fine...I suppose it won't help my cause by keeping this many layers on. It'll probably make me faint eventually, and that definitely wouldn't be productive towards my cause…"

"Your cause…" smirked Sherlock with a roll of his golden eyes as John struggled to shed two jumpers from his protection.

"Why are you mocking me?"

"Because your cause isn't very noble. Your cause is keeping away your best friend."

John froze in the process of shedding off yet another jumper when he heard Sherlock say the words 'best friend'.

"Wait...you are...You think I think…"

John wasn't sure how to vocalize what to say. He was in complete and utter shock at what Sherlock had just said. All this time, he had observed Sherlock's lifestyle and had realized that though Sherlock had a good many acquaintances, he never once vocalized one as being one of his best friends. Yet, here they both were, a dragon and a hobbit sharing space in the small kitchen of 221B when Sherlock had called himself his best friend.

"John?...Did I say something wrong?"

John snapped out of his daze with a quick shake of his head, pulling the third jumper the rest of the way off and setting it on the floor in a pile with the rest of them.

"I'm your best friend?..." he asked slowly as he moved to get the skewers from the drawer. Anything in an attempt to clear his mind.

"Yes, of course. I should only hope that I am yours too."

"Of course," said John rather quickly, blushing at his forwardness. He grabbed the skewers and removed them from the drawer. He laid them to rest on the counter beside the hot dogs. They needed to change the subject before this got too mushy.

"So, what do these skewers and hot dogs have to do with a trust exercise?"

"Put some of the hot dogs on the skewers and then come here."

Slowly realizing what Sherlock was meaning, he slipped the hot dogs onto the skewers.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sherlock?"

"Of course."

"But the fire alarm?…"

"I'll take care of it."

"And all the smoke?…"

"I'll open a window."

"And Mrs. Hudson?..."

"You worry far too much, John. I never knew you to be so worried. Come do a little trust exercise. I promise that it'll be good for the pair of us. This is how we'll begin to get use to each other again."

"Alright," sighed John as he carried the skewered hot dogs towards Sherlock, who had retreated from the kitchen a bit to enter a wider place to char the hot dogs. "What do I do?"

"Put some oven mitts on."

John put the skewered hot dogs down for a moment to do as Sherlock instructed, not wanting to get burned from putting his trust in Sherlock. After the gloves were on, Sherlock took a breath and released it in a small puff of smile. John watched on amazed as the hot dogs sizzled before his eyes and were cooked in an utter instant. In his gut, he knew that he shouldn't have been afraid of this trust exercise. Sherlock, even before he was a dragon, never burned him in any way. John was always treated as his equal. It was time that John placed his trust wholeheartedly in his best friend.