It was easier than planned getting John back to Baker Street. The laundry vans were a regular occurrence at all hospitals; this one wasn't special. There was only a small crowd of reporters at the front of hospital but nothing to be of concern. There was no one waiting at Baker Street other than Mrs. Hudson who immediately started fussing over John. John smiled but quickly wiggled out of Mrs. Hudson's hug and went up the stairs. Sherlock grimaced at Mrs. Hudson and promised to keep an eye on John for her. Mycroft and Mordecai were already upstairs and seated when John and Sherlock entered the room. John continued up the stairs again to change tops but stopped when he sensed Sherlock right behind him.
"Sherlock?"
"I'm coming to help you change jumpers. You're unable to lift your arms past forty-five degrees because of your ribs. You'll need help," Sherlock replied, feeling he was stating the obvious.
"Uh, no, Sherlock. I do not need your help to change. Bugger off," John muttered and slowly climbed the stairs.
Sherlock stared after John and tried to understand the sudden shift of attitude. John had just said a few hours earlier that he was in love with Sherlock. It was….oh. John didn't remember their argument on the pavement. His memories were from the time when Sherlock was still being cruel to John about his heat. When he had either been ignoring John or throwing out cruel barbs when he did acknowledge him. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty and Sherlock usually scoffed at the saying but now he understood the meaning.
Now he could look back and see the interactions between John and himself and realized how badly he had treated his friend. John had been nothing but helpful and respectful after Sherlock's heat.
Sherlock listened to the footsteps walk away from him as he slowly turned and walked into the sitting room. Mycroft was standing by the windows and Mordecai was sitting on the couch. Sherlock knew they had heard the exchange. Shrugging off his jacket, Sherlock draped the garment over John's chair and went into the kitchen. He started making tea just so he could feel like he was doing something. John would appreciate the tea, Sherlock whispered to himself and his Omega silently agreed. Sherlock never entertained the idea of listening to his Omega nature but it was starting to make itself known more frequently now. It had tasted what it was like to be with an Alpha, to be respected and valued. Sherlock swore to himself that after all this, he would go to his mind palace, focus on what he wanted and then talk to John about it.
The tea was ready by the time John made it back downstairs. He was looking a few shades paler but passed on the painkillers. Accepting the cup of tea from Sherlock, John stared at his chair for a few moments before deciding it would be too painful to try and sit. Instead, he leaned against the desk and slowly drank his tea. Neither of the four men wanted to break the uncomfortable silence that pervaded the flat. Eventually Mordecai cleared his throat loudly.
"We should talk about what just happened. Tupton won't stop until he's certain John is dead," Mordecai said as Mycroft turned to face the group.
"I have Anthea leaking falsified medical reports to the papers detailing John's condition as critical. We'll have to move quickly. St. Barts is not a secured location," Mycroft answered and John nodded as Mordecai handed John a file.
Sherlock was not accustomed to being left out of the loop but he apparently was now. He watched the three men talk and tried to scramble his brain to keep up.
"Alright, stop! What is going on?" he asked loudly and saw all of them look up at him.
John glanced at the other two before setting aside the file to look at Sherlock. "I'm not sure how much you remember from before I found you, but the man that was in the room with you wants you back. Badly. His name is Baron Patrick Brickston Tupton and his first attempt was to contact me and offer to buy you from me. Once that didn't work, he tried to have me killed on the street. I'm also the only one that saw him...assaulting you in that room. So I'm the only eyewitness to his crimes. Unfortunately, Tupton is also a member of the House of Lords so we have to play very delicately."
"But you said you dosed Tupton with tranquilizers so he should have still been there when they finished raiding the building," Sherlock said as he tried to bring forth any memories.
John nodded as Mordecai answered.
"Correct, he was, but he was found in an empty room with no Omega to press charges against him. None of my team saw him engage in any illegal activities. The only one who did was Doctor Watson. Tupton's attorneys are pressing that he was not part of the activities, that he was only there for a meeting and knew of nothing going on in the other rooms."
Sherlock was about to speak but he answered his own questions. Yes, John could testify against Tupton but there was still no real victim. Sherlock was the only victim that Tupton had assaulted. The thought of calling himself the victim made Sherlock nauseous. No one who knew him would ever describe him as a victim. But he was the one that was physically and sexually assaulted by Tupton. To step forward and testify would be outting himself as an Omega. In addition to outting himself as an Omega, everything that happened would be publicized in the court case. A weak, horny, biologically driven Omega that had been forced into his heat and almost raped. And that Omega was William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Sherlock blanched before quickly getting himself under control again.
"So, since Tupton had already threatened John once you decided to put him in a vest on the off chance he might be shot at? What if they had aimed for his head? What then?" Sherlock snapped and felt panic start to crawl up his spine.
"It was a calculated risk, Sherlock. We're trying to keep your name out of this case and snag Tupton on other charges. The Omega sex ring has international ties so that's why we're working with Interpol. The money trail also ties into a few drug cartels as well as terrorist cells. We had to provoke Tupton into staging an attack on John," Mycroft interjected calmly as he stepped away from the window.
"And did you get something out of my...out of John being shot in the street to hold against Tupton?" Sherlock asked, nearly growling.
Mycroft glanced at Mordecai before looking back to Sherlock.
"Unfortunately, no. The sedan was found abandoned a few miles outside of London. Wiped down so no liftable prints. It was let by a front company that we think Tupton is in charge of but we have no proof as of yet. Tupton is very smart in that he doesn't do anything incriminating online; doesn't save any evidence of wrongdoing online. He must have everything in paper form or on a laptop that does not connect to the Internet. Both of which he probably keeps at his home office."
Sherlock snarled and turned away from the other three men. He stared into the kitchen for a moment before pulling out his mobile and doing a search on Tupton. He needed to know more about the man that threatened to hurt John. John and Mordecai talked quietly behind him for a moment before Mycroft and Mordecai departed with comments of coming by the next day after John had time to read through the material. John didn't walk them out but stayed leaning against the desk as he finished his tea. Sherlock walked over to the couch and stretched out on it after trading his mobile for the nearby laptop. An uncomfortable silence descended over the flat as John watched Sherlock from the corner of his eye and Sherlock did the same. Neither really knew how to break the stalemate between the two of them.
John sighed softly and carefully straightened from his spot against the desk. He moved slowly across the room towards the kitchen and Sherlock gave up trying not to stare. He watched the way John carefully held himself to avoid aggravating his ribs and the collection of plaster visible on his hands.
"How are your ribs?" Sherlock asked as he turned his attention back to the laptop.
In his peripheral vision he saw John stop and turn to look at Sherlock. The silence stretched for a moment before Sherlock turned his head and met John's gaze. John was usually easy to read but right then Sherlock couldn't read anything of what John might have been thinking.
"They're sore but they'll heal with time. What do you want Sherlock?" John asked and he suddenly looked drained.
Sherlock panicked for a moment and wondered how much to tell John. Should he tell John what he said on the pavement? But then he realized how exhausted John looked. There were bags under his eyes and his jaw was tense from the subtle pain even standing and breathing was causing. Sherlock shook his head briefly and shelved any plans concerning professing his love for John.
"Nothing, John. You need to take your pain medicine and probably get some rest. Things with Tupton are going to come to a head soon," Sherlock said as he swiftly stood and set aside his laptop.
He walked to where his coat was draped over John's chair and dug through the pocket. Pulling out the small paper bag, he continued past John and into the kitchen. Dumping the contents out on the countertop, he turned and pulled out a glass to fill it with milk. Setting it on the counter, he also pulled out a slice of bread and set it on a napkin. In short order he handed a pill with the glass of milk out to John and quickly followed it with the bread. Reading John's question in the raised eyebrow, Sherlock flushed slightly before explaining himself.
"Pain medication is better taken with food; milk and bread are usually recommended."
Sherlock wouldn't meet John's gaze but he felt a flush run up his neck and stain his cheeks. He was torn between wanting to take care of John and wanting things to go back to normal. But he also knew that things couldn't go back to normal and part of him didn't want that to happen. He had been alone for so long. John had been his friend then his best friend then his lover. Sherlock wanted to tell him all of this but the words weren't there. The same Sherlock Holmes that could eviscerate a human just with his words was at a complete loss when he needed those same words for himself.
John rolled the pills around in his hand for a brief moment before speaking, "Thank you, Sherlock. That's...nice of you."
Tossing the pills back, John chased them with a few swallows of milk before picking up the bread and slowly walking out of the kitchen. Sherlock felt rooted to the kitchen floor as he watched the older man walk away.
"John, I-"
"I'm going to bed, Sherlock. I can't think straight with the pain and once the pill kicks in I certainly won't be able to think straight. We'll talk in the morning," he replied without looking over his shoulder.
Sherlock nodded quickly, "Okay, good, yes, in the morning."
Once the sound of John's footsteps faded away Sherlock gripped his hair tightly and threw his head back to stare at the light fixture in the kitchen. Why was this so bloody hard? He moaned to himself and slowly turned in a circle to try and clear his head. He never had problems talking to John but now it's like that first stilted conversation at Angelo's. Granted the stilted conversation was more on John's side but the memory was fresh in Sherlock's mind.
Stalking over to the fireplace, Sherlock planted his hands on his hips and stared at the reflection of the room in the mirror. He sometimes found himself doing this. Trying to look at something common from a different angle to see what he was missing. Look at a problem from a different perspective. How to talk to John and tell him what he wants. Could it even be what he needs? Ruffling his hair with one hand, he braced it against the fireplace mantle and leaned his weight against it. How did an Omega show their interest in an Alpha? Invitation for dinner? John and he ate together most nights. Offer sex? Well John and he already crossed that line...three times in one night even. A smile briefly flitted across Sherlock's lips before he shook his head. Show interest in sharing a den? They already lived together. Offer to bond? Sherlock already tried that and it backfired...horribly. Granted, he had only been trying to keep John in the flat and with him. There had been no emotion or sentiment attached. Sherlock had treated it as a bargaining chip. Maybe he should offer to bond again. Sherlock straightened quickly and turned away from the fireplace and towards the room. The hand that was against the mantle now started tapping at his bottom lip as he paced the room. His long legs had him stepping on furniture and over it as he thought through the offer to bond. Was there a specific protocol to follow? Did he just bring it up over dinner? Over drinks? He doesn't drink. Does it work over non alcoholic beverages? Is there a formal letter? Sherlock had seen bond notices in the Telegraph. Maybe he should post an ad for John and leave him the paper. No, John doesn't like to be surprised. That whole PTSD trauma issue.
Sherlock spent the rest of the night sitting on the back of his chair with his feet in the seat.
(!)(!)(!)
Sherlock quietly watched John from the corner of his eye as they rode up the lift to Mycroft's office. Sherlock had stayed awake the entire night and heard John roll out of bed around half eight. John had gone to take a shower and had rebuffed Sherlock's offer to join him to help wash his hair. Afterwards Sherlock realized it was probably a bit forward of him. The rest of the morning had been tense once John had gotten out of the shower. Breakfast was eaten in silence and Sherlock had actually eaten something trying to appease John. Mycroft sent a car and brought them back to his office where Mordecai and he were going over documents. Mycroft glanced up at the two men and raised an eyebrow before focusing on John.
"Anthea will be releasing statements that you've been upgraded from intensive care to critical care. Tomorrow we should get you back to hospital to get some photographs to circulate," Mycroft explained and John nodded silently as he slowly started to push off his jacket.
Sherlock helped him with it and avoided John's glance when he turned to look at him. Sherlock's intention of speaking to John about his feelings had shriveled upon seeing the expression on John's face this morning. Despite the painkiller, John hadn't gotten a good night's sleep and was grumpy. Definitely not a good mindset to be talking about sentimental and emotional things. Sherlock turned his attention to the reports and surveillance on Tupton. Best to hurry and finish the Tupton issue so they didn't have this hanging over their heads when Sherlock tried to talk to John. He still wasn't sure what words he was going to use but hoped something would come to him.
During the next five hours, the four men poured over the documents and researched through electronic footprints. As they compiled information, Anthea came in periodically to bring fresh coffee and tea. She occasionally spoke with Mycroft and stopped to speak with John on occasion. At about the halfway mark, Sherlock started getting snappy and sharp with everyone. He even yelled over his phone at one of his contacts at the Italian embassy when following a simple inquiry. He was being crueler than normal towards Mycroft and was starting to verbally lash out at John. Everything was making him furious...even himself.
For once in his life, Sherlock knew he was being an unreasonable arse and he couldn't pinpoint why. It had been getting worse and worse the longer he'd been in the conference room. He couldn't shake it and moving around the room actually seemed to make it more unbearable. And worse, his instincts were screaming at him to do something but for the life of him he couldn't understand the signals. He wanted to drag John into an unused office or closet and climb onto that beautiful cock to have it pierce him over and over. His teeth ached with the urge to bite John's neck to mark him as his. It wouldn't be a bonding bite and it would fade but that's what Sherlock wanted.
Mordecai had been shooting Mycroft concerned looks but Mycroft knew better than to try and stop Sherlock. Sherlock was seconds away from throwing a chair when the reason suddenly smacked him in the face. Tension shot through him as Anthea walked past him. She passed close enough that Sherlock caught the aroma of Omega...an unbonded Omega. She offered John a cup of tea and returned the bright smile. With a quick glance towards Sherlock, she stepped just a bit closer to John to point out something on the documents he was looking at. John said something to her softly which prompted another smile. Sherlock took another deep breath to confirm it and he realized what was bothering him. Anthea was an Omega and she was interested in John. He never expected Anthea to show interest in John because...because...Sherlock suddenly realized his grave error.
Since Anthea worked with Mycroft she had already been vetted by a Holmes brother. Sherlock didn't see the point of doing it himself because he grudgingly knew that Mycroft was just as good as he was. Sherlock looked at Anthea with fresh eyes. Professionally dressed like always but showing a bit more cleavage than normal. Cheeks rouged a bit more to bring out her color; eyes dramatic. She had stopped taking her suppressants to allow her natural aroma to present; guaranteed to attract any unbonded Alpha. An unbonded Alpha like John. It had been happening all morning under Sherlock's nose. That's why his temper had gotten shorter and more volatile. His Omega was reacting to another Omegas' interest in his mate. And his mate was simply tolerating it! It had been building all morning and Anthea's words came back to him.
"You will never deserve John Watson."
When he saw Anthea touch John's elbow and flutter her eyes at the doctor, Sherlock felt his world tilt. As casually as he could, he reached out and braced a hand against the closest chair while his heart seized and fell to somewhere around his stomach. Well, he used to think he didn't have a heart and it seemed it was about to be guaranteed. It seemed his heart was about to be pulverized. Part of him wanted to go and wrap his arms around John in a blatant display of 'Mine!' but knew he had no right. If John wanted to court Anthea then Sherlock would allow it; he had to. The Omega made the first move usually and the Alpha either reciprocated or not. Sherlock knew that John had expressed interest in him but he didn't remember it. Sherlock didn't know if that counted or not. Could he still accept?
He started to feel queasy at the avalanche of emotions but then he saw Anthea step even closer to John. Her breasts brushed against his arm and she whispered something into his ear before she tilted her head for a subtle display of her neck. Sherlock saw John's eyes dilate from across the room and Sherlock snapped. Anthea was blatantly making a move on John in front of Sherlock and everyone. Sherlock didn't know much about Omegaverse but he did know it was bad form to proposition an Alpha in front of another Omega that was interested. Apparently Anthea had decided that Sherlock had enough time to make his move and if he wasn't going to entertain the Alpha then she was. In three strides he reached the two and jerked John away while he glared at Anthea.
"Not yours," he growled through a haze of red.
Anthea simply raised her eyebrows in challenge as she licked her lips. Sherlock felt John tugging on his arm to get his attention but couldn't hear what he was saying.
"Not yours either. You didn't make a move so I did," Anthea whispered before her eyes slid to the man behind Sherlock with a smile.
Sherlock knew she was correct. He had not expressed his interest in a relationship with John. Given his history, no one really expected him to. To everyone looking from the outside, John Watson was available. Even John thought he was available. He knew nothing of Sherlock's interest. He needed to fix this and immediately.
Tightening his grip, Sherlock dragged the struggling doctor away. It only took a few minutes before he found another empty board room. Slamming the door shut behind him, he jerked John around to face him and started talking.
"She can't have you. I'm interested even though we haven't talked about it. You must know I want you," he said and gave John a good shake.
He felt the hand a moment before fingertips dug into the nape of his neck. His knees immediately buckled and his hands slid from John's shirt as he collapsed to the floor. The whimper slipped from his lips and his head sagged forward to bare the back of his sensitive neck. The hand gripping his neck trembled as he suddenly became aware of John panting above him. Trying to get up, Sherlock gasped as the fingers dug in and kept him on his knees. His instincts were telling him to drop his head to the floor and present himself to the dominating Alpha but the fingers kept him from moving. He couldn't even look up at John.
From the corner of his eye he did see John lean against the table. He mewled softly, wanting to help his mate but was restrained from doing so.
"Shush," John snapped and dug his fingers in briefly to reinforce his order.
Sherlock clamped his lips shut and dropped his gaze. His mate wanted him quiet, so he would be quiet. The room was silent except for John's soft pants. John's fingers slowly relaxed but didn't release the grip.
"I'm sorry to put you in such a demeaning position, but Jesus, Sherlock. It's a bit not good to grab your friend and shake him when he has fractured and bruised ribs," John said weakly and carefully pulled out a chair with his foot.
Horrified at the results of his actions, Sherlock didn't notice the hand slip from his neck. He could only watch as John slowly and painfully lowered himself into the chair. Sherlock had completely forgotten about the injured ribs. He had hurt John; unintentionally, but he had hurt him. He was a horrible Omega. Maybe he should gracefully bow out and let John have Anthea. Anthea was right...he didn't deserve John. He was foolish to think he did.
"I'm so sorry, John," Sherlock started and reached out to touch his friend.
Before his hand could make contact, John jerked out of reach and gasped at the sudden pain the movement caused. Sherlock's face flushed and he snapped his hand back. He rocked back so his arse rested on his heels and averted his gaze. He hunched his shoulders and kept his hands in his lap but couldn't stop the nervous picking at his trouser leg. John didn't want him to touch him. John didn't want him.
"I'm sorry."
Sherlock's voice was barely audible but he knew John would hear him. Why would John want to bond with him? Sherlock was unfit to be a mate. He was even unfit to be an Omega and that was biological. He felt tears sting his eyes and he rubbed at them angrily. He won't feel bad for himself. He dug his grave and now he had to lay in it.
"What do you want, Sherlock? Because one moment I think I know but then you change your mind. And I end up getting burned no matter which way I turn. I'm tired of trying to read the subtext of anything you say to me," John said and paused for Sherlock to reply.
When Sherlock remained silent, John slowly stood with a grunt and walked across the room. Sherlock wanted to melt into the floor because he knew exactly what John was talking about. Sherlock had been hot and cold over the idea of bonding and acknowledging his Omega nature. His opinion changed almost hourly. And John had paid the price...repeatedly.
"I mean, I tell you that I'm in love with you and you just walk away. Then you say nothing when I wake up, don't even bring it up and then you get pissy possessive when I talk to another Omega. I can't wait forever for you, Sherlock. I'd try, God I'd try, but I won't be able to live with you if my love is unrequited."
Sherlock's head snapped up at that.
"Your mem-"
"I remember our conversation on the street. But I also remember how you treated me before that. Do you purposefully try to destroy the people closest to you? Especially the man who just said he loved you after being told when we first met that you were married to your work," John muttered and wrapped an arm around his torso.
Sherlock slowly climbed to his feet but didn't approach John. He didn't think he could handle being rebuffed twice. He could see the emotional anguish on John's face as the older man turned away from him with a sigh, looked around the room and turned back to Sherlock.
"I mean seriously, Sherlock? I'm getting whiplash trying to follow you. If you're not interested in me, then fine, but tell me so I can move on. Tell me there's no hope and I'll start looking for a new place," John muttered and cast his gaze to the side so he didn't have to look at Sherlock.
The genius in question was holding a hand to his chest to try and contain the horrifying sensation of his heart trying to climb out of his chest cavity. John leaving Baker Street? John leaving Sherlock?
"When did your memory come back?" Sherlock asked softly.
John gnawed on his bottom lip before speaking. "This morning...when I woke up."
Sherlock's mind replayed the entire morning look for anything that might have suggested to him that John had regained his memories. When John had come downstairs, he had paused upon seeing Sherlock but he did that most mornings.
"Wh-Why didn't you say something this morning then?"
John stared blankly at Sherlock. "Because you walked away from me on the pavement. I tell you that I love you and you turn and walk away. How else was I supposed to take it? I never intended to bring it up again until you just snarled at Anthea."
Just the mention of her name made Sherlock snarl silently but John saw the curled lip.
"It doesn't work that way Sherlock. You can't be possessive with nothing to back it up."
Sherlock had to fix this. Had to show John that he wanted everything John had to offer. Holding out his hands as a show of passivity, Sherlock cautiously approached John, wary of any negative reactions. Once standing closer, Sherlock stared into John's eyes before speaking softly.
"The first time I did this, it was for the wrong reasons and I realize that now. I should never have tried to manipulate you. This time it's because I want you as my mate. It's because when I think of living my life without you in it I feel ill. It's because you've seen me at my worst and still care for me. It's because hearing you make tea and fuss about the chip and pin machine makes me smile, no matter how foul my mood is. It's because you keep me in line and make me...just make me better. Everything I am...is just better with you. It's because I love you. I love you and all I can think about is you. When I do sleep, you're the last thing on my mind. When I wake, you're the first thing on my mind. I love you, John."
Sherlock sank gracefully to his knees and dropped his head to bear the scent gland on his neck.
"During my next heat, will you please share it with me...bite me? Will you be my bondmate? Will you be my Alpha?"
Sherlock felt like his heart was about to pound out of his rib cage. He could see John's trouser leg from the corner of his eye but he remained still. He would not act out impatiently. He would wait for John...wait for John to make his choice.
John took a step back in shock. Of all the things he expected Sherlock to say, this was at least in the bottom five of his list. Hell, he didn't even think it was on his list. He stared down at the man on his knees in front of him and saw a different Sherlock from what he was accustomed to. With his head tilted like it was, John could see the pulse throbbing in Sherlock's neck. His shoulders were minutely shifting in time with his heavy breathing. His lips were parted to accommodate his panting breaths. He showed all the textbook indicators of severe anxiety, almost to the point of hyperventilating. John took another step back and saw Sherlock's shoulders sag in rejection. John's mind was replaying the past week since Sherlock's heat. Accusing John of using his body for his own needs. The dismissive comments when John tried to help with cases. The passive aggressive tendencies around the flat. Sherlock's volatile temper when he didn't get his way or was told something he didn't like. When Sherlock had turned away from him on the street, the pain in his chest had been sharp and painful. But then John remembered the times that he saw the Sherlock that was hidden from everyone else. When unaware he had been caught, Sherlock watched a loving couple on the street and the longing in his eyes was painfully obvious. The unconscious flush that stained his neck when John touched him around the flat. The occasional warmth that John would see fill Sherlock's eyes. John knew that Sherlock Holmes had a soft side but had been burned so badly in the past that he hid everything vulnerable. Showing that vulnerability was difficult for him, John knew.
Instead of speaking, John stepped forward slowly and saw Sherlock's shoulders tense. Sherlock still hadn't looked at him so he couldn't see the evaluating look John was giving him. John knew he had to tread carefully. Both of them had to tread carefully. With slow movements, he softly trailed his fingertips over Sherlock's bonding gland. The gentle touch sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine and his eyelids fluttered shut. His head turned towards John but that was his only movement.
Sherlock's senses started to narrow down onto John and his touch, his scent. He thought after John had taken the second step away from him that it was the end. John would gently let him down with kind words but would eventually move out. It could still happen. Just because John was touching his bonding gland didn't mean anything. Without his consent, his upper body tilted forward and he pressed his forehead against John's thigh.
John's fingers gently carded through Sherlock's hair as he stared down at the top of the brunette's head. John knew he was at a major crossroad for both of them. If he said no, he had no doubt that Sherlock would never open himself up to another being. Would close himself off from John and digress to the most basic of friendships. But if he said yes, John might be condemning the both of them to a bond that could destroy both of them if it didn't work out. Both would end up regretting it and resenting the other for forcing this issue. They needed to talk about this more before he could answer.
Knowing his body wouldn't be happy with him if he tried to bend over, John tugged on Sherlock's shirt until the genius got the hint and stood. Before Sherlock could straighten, John cradled his head and briefly kissed the bonding gland.
"I'm not saying no but I'm not saying yes. We need to talk about this," John whispered against the warm skin.
Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. John wasn't turning him away. He still had a chance. Straightening to his full height, Sherlock smiled down at John and gave him a brief kiss.
"Of course John. I will not push."
John smiled before grimacing. "Did you really have to jostle me so hard?"
Sherlock flushed for a moment before remembering. Digging into his trouser pocket, he pulled out John's pain medication. Shaking out one pill, he handed it to John.
"I'm sure Mycroft has some paracetamol that will compliment this pill. It's a good stopping point for lunch so we can get you some food," Sherlock said and raised an eyebrow at John's look.
"What?"
John smiled and giggled softly. "Nothing, you brilliant man."
Sherlock flushed again and followed John back to the others. Mycroft glanced at the two of them and smiled quickly before looking back to his documents. Sherlock didn't see it but John did when Mycroft nodded subtly at Anthea. John wasn't surprised that Mycroft had nudged his brother into finally admitting his feelings for John. He was glad at least one Holmes understood relationships. Or at least had employees that understood them.
(!)(!)(!)
Another small note: To Hiiiiiiiiiii: Sorry for the stupid error on my part. I was tweaking some words that were Britpicked and I uploaded the wrong chapter afterwards. In one screen the chapter titles are alphabetized (aka Clarification, actual chapter 7) and in another screen it's in order of chapters numbers (chapter 2, aka Unpleasant Memories). I don't know if it makes sense but it was an error on my part. Thank you very much for pointing that out.
Small note: Someone berated me in a review about the fact that drug is not the past tense of drag. While, basically, she is correct I will also point out that drug (in the way I used it) is noted as a valid 'dialect past' term. In that it is used in the southern parts of the US (which I was born and raised) and my Beta reader (who is also Southern) did not correct it because for us it is a valid use. I have changed it though but just wanted to point out that fact.
Thank you everyone that has favorited and alerted and left reviews for this story. It is all greatly appreciated. A HUGE thank you goes to MyFirstistheFourth for helping with this chapter. It was really difficult and I lost a lot of drive for it and actually entertained the idea of deleting the whole thing. So huge Thanks to her for keeping me going. So, hope everyone enjoys!