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As soon as I open the door I regret inviting him in. The place is cold, dark and un-homey. I never really made an effort to make the small apartment my own and now I am slightly ashamed for it.
The detective steps inside behind me and looks around the room.
'Cozy.' Sarcasm. Of course.
'I never intended to stay long.' I say while walking towards the kitchen.
'Why not?' He asks.
'I signed up for the army again.'
He gives me a puzzled look but I ignore it. 'Tea?'
Suddenly Sherlock sees something familiar. 'Hey, my violin! I wondered what happened to it.'
Oh shit. I knew I should I have cleaned up a bit better. This is going to be embarrassing…
'Yeah ehm… I didn't want Mrs. Hudson to sell it.' I avoid looking at him. 'Whenever people ask me if I play I tell them I'm just keeping it for a friend.'
I don't see him coming, but suddenly I feel his arms around me. Before I know what is happening he is letting me out of the clumsy embrace and takes a step back, looking to the floor.
'I am… so sorry John… for everything! I…You are…' He struggles for words. It is kind of endearing but I decide to put him out of his misery: 'Let it go Sherlock, you're getting dangerously close to sentiment.' I joke.
We stand uncomfortably in the living room for a few moments before he turns and picks up the violin. He is turned away from me but I can see him closing his eyes while he plays. Wholly engrossed in the music.
I walk into the kitchen - somehow the moment seems private – but then the tune changes into something familiar, something he played a lot when we lived together. I smile.
When he stops I say: 'Take it with you. Are you living in Baker Street again?'
'Yes, for the time being.'
'Hmm, nice for Mrs. Hudson.' I take two cups.
'Join me.' Sherlock suddenly says. I almost drop the cups. Is he kidding?
'And live with a junkie? No thanks.' I say it without thinking. But Sherlock steps over the insult.
'I'll stop. I already stopped.'
'Sherlock….'
'The overdose was an accident. I didn't take anything while we were living together. I didn't even smoke!'
'That's right, but this is different. Was there really a case?'
Sherlock ignores the question. 'I need a flat mate and you need to get out of this depressing dump. The army will never take back a crippled doctor who still suffers from PTS anyway!'
I take a deep breath. Ignore it, John.
'I will think about it.' I say while I hand him a cup of tea.
We sit down on the couch and drink our tea in silence. Suddenly Sherlock says:
'She is nice.'
'Who?'
'That doctor you're dating?'
'What doctor? I'm not dating anyone.'
'The lady who tried to treat me in the hospital before you. I saw you with her several times while I watched you those days.'
I almost choke in my tea.
'Bloody hell Sherlock. That is creepy! Were you really watching me for two days?'
'Don't change the subject, John.'
'There is no subject. You deduced it wrong. I'm not dating Lucy.'
'Hmm, are you sure?'
'Yes of course I am sure you idiot.'
But we're both smiling.
He sips from his tea. 'Too bad. She seems nice.'
'You threw a bedpan at her!'
'Did I? I don't remember. Any other woman in your life I should know about?'
'No, and can you drop this? You don't hear me asking if you met anyone special.'
'Actually,' Sherlock says nonchalant, 'I did.'
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