Chapter 9

John

Author's Note: I decided to have this chapter focus on John and Rose, again, instead of immediately going into the Blind Banker. That's at the end of the chapter.

"Mm, you'd like this one, John. It's about a diamond."

Sherlock reads the email a little longer, and then closes the laptop. "They're coming to the flat, soon."

"Okay." John strolls toward the fridge and opens it. "Um, Sherlock, we need to go shopping."

"Oh, dull."

"Well, Sherlock, we need food. I know you don't eat much, but now Rose is here and she eats," John argues.

Sherlock doesn't move or indicate he has heard John.

"You…Okay, then. I'll do the shopping. Wanna come?" John asks Rose.

"Sure."

Rose and John walk downstairs and make their way towards Tesco's.

"So, what's your story?" Rose asks.

John looks at her. "You know my story. You deduced it two days ago."

Rose shakes her head. "No, that was my analysis. I know what you did, but I don't know why. Why did you want to become a doctor? Why did you go into the army? Who were your best friends when you were a kid? Did you ever get into huge trouble for something? What's your first childhood memory? I want you to tell me about you."

"Well, I became a doctor because when I was small, my mum got into a car accident. She wasn't expected to live, her injuries were so bad. She went into surgery, and we just started hoping and praying. My dad, Harry, and I. After forever, a nurse came out and told us that she would be okay. We went into the room and saw her. She was sleeping and was very pale. I saw the doctor who operated on her, and he was a mess. Blood was all over his jumper and he was exhausted. But he had saved my mum, and I thought he was a hero. I wanted to save lives like him." John chuckles. "I ran over and hugged him, bloody jumper and all. I told him thank you over and over again."

They pass a small park. Rose sees a little child sitting on a park bench. He is sobbing quietly. Nobody is paying any attention to him.

"Hold on a tick," Rose stops John. She walks over to the boy and kneels in front of him. "Hey, what's up, kiddo?"

The boy stops his crying and looks at Rose. Pretty young. Only seven or eight, at the oldest, John thinks.

"M-Mummy and Daddy d-don't care about me," the little boy whispers, hiccoughing.

"What's your name?" Rose asks.

"Peter," the boy says.

"Peter, why don't you think you mum and dad care about you?"

"Because all they ever do is fight. They fight and don't even notice me," Peter sobs.

"Did you try to talk to them about it?"

"No."

"Then they probably don't know how much it bothers you. If you asked them to, I bet they would stop," Rose says gently.

"No, they wouldn't."

"You haven't tried, have you?" Peter shakes his head. "Well, how do you know it won't work, then? I'll come with you if you want me to," Rose reassures.

"Really?" Peter looks hopeful.

"Of course. See that man right there? That's my friend, John. Can he come?" Peter nods.

"Well, let's go then." Rose says brightly.

Peter stands up and shyly takes Rose's hand. She glances at John. "Wanna come with?" John nods and follows them.

Peter leads Rose and John to a small house in a row of small houses. Peter stops and points to one of the houses. "That's mine, right there," Peter says.

"Do you want to talk to your parents with John and I there, or should I talk to them, or what do you want to do?" Rose asks.

Peter looks up at Rose from his mop of blond hair. "Can you talk to them first?"

"I will if you want me to. But you need to stay with John."

"Yes, please." Peter nods his head. They stood within earshot of Rose, but not close enough that they would immediately be seen.

Rose strides up to the house and rings the doorbell. She steps back and waits. The door opens suddenly and a woman appears. She had blond hair, green eyes, and a permanent frown on her face.

"Yes?" the woman snaps.

Rose raises an eyebrow and looks at the woman icily. She stays silent. The woman tries again.

"Yes, how can I help you?" the woman says in a more cordial tone.

"My name is Rose Smith, and I'm with Scotland Yard," Rose flashes the woman a badge she had nicked from Sally Donovan. "Do you know where your son is at the moment?"

The woman thinks for a moment, then answers, "Yes, he's in the living room. Peter?" She calls back into the house.

"That won't be necessary, ma'am. I know where he is."

"I just told you, he's in the living room. Peter?" the woman calls louder.

"He's not in the living room, ma'am."

"Where else would he be?"

Rose steps aside. The woman sees Peter with John. She gives a strangled gasp of surprise. "Peter? But…what?"

Rose steps into the woman's line of sight again. "I found him in the park, unsupervised, alone, not ten minutes ago."

"But I just saw him in the living room."

"How long ago did you see him in the living room?"

"About…about an hour ago," the woman widens her eyes in shock.

"And what did you do right after you saw him?" Rose asks.

"I was…talking with my husband."

"Ma'am, I chatted to your son for a few minutes. He might have mentioned that you and your husband talk a lot. Usually in very loud, angry tones." The woman looks at her shoes.

"Yes, we argue a lot."

"Did you know that Peter doesn't like it when you argue with your husband?" Rose asks sternly.

"No. I guess I never really thought about it."

"He feels alone and scared when his parents argue. Peter feels that you and your husband don't care about him at all." The woman looks mortified.

"He does? Oh, Jesus," the woman looks at Peter. "No, we love him-"

"Prove it. Listen to him. Don't argue in front of him. Show him how much you love him," Rose says in a voice that could cut steel. The woman looks small and timid.

"Yes. We'll do that. I promise."

"I'm going to give him my mobile number. If I get a call from him concerning this issue again, I will arrange it so that Social Services is here within the hour. Is that understood?" Rose stares daggers at the woman.

"Yes, ma'am," the woman whispers meekly.

Rose turns on her heel and walks back to John and Peter. She crouches down next to Peter. "I'm giving you John's mobile number. If you ever feel like you're unloved, Peter, call this number, okay?"

Peter smiles. "Okay, Rose." John writes down his number on a scrap of paper and hands it to Peter. Peter gives Rose a huge hug.

"Thanks, Rose. Thanks, John." Peter waves back at them. He skips back to his mother, who welcomes him with open arms. Rose grins and waves good-bye.

"Time to get that shopping, eh, John?"

"Yes." John and Rose walk away from the little house. "What the heck was that?"

"I was helping a little boy. What did it look like?"

John looks at Rose. "I just can't believe a girl who killed someone at age nine would help a little boy."

Rose sighs. "It's not like I wanted to kill her. My best friends were threatened. What was I supposed to do? And I'm not incapable of caring, John. Strange as it might seem."

She sounds so old and tired. Well, what else would you sound like, after you've been through so much?

"I was wrong, you know," John says thoughtfully.

"About what?"

"After you dealt with Anderson and Donovan, I thought you were pretty ruthless. You dealt with them pretty harshly. I mean, you got Anderson suspended, and you humiliated Donovan. I know why you did that, but still. Anyways, I thought that you would have trouble sympathizing with people and their emotions. Especially since you're so like Sherlock."

"I'm like Sherlock? How? Aside from the brilliant intelligence, of course?" Rose says with a grin audible in her voice.

"You both suppress your emotions very well. When you were deducing Sherlock, you were furious about something, but nothing about your body said you were furious. The only reason I knew you were angry was because of your voice."

Rose considers this. "Right, but just because I suppress my emotions doesn't mean I don't have them, John. I'm just careful with my heart. Remember that. And plus," Rose adds, "emotions usually get in the way of logic and brainwork."

By this time, they had reached Tesco's. They split up the list to make up for time. When they reach the chip-and-pin machine, John starts having issues. He shouts at the machine when it won't scan his items and when it won't accept his card. Bloody machine. Stupid, stupid machine!

"Stay here, watch the shopping. I'm going back to the flat to get a different card," John says.

Rose giggles. "Bummer. I wanted to tell Sherlock you had a row with a machine. Notice his expression for me, will you?"

oOo

John comes back a few minutes later, and this time there was no trouble with the chip-and-pin machine. Right after they check out, John says,

"We need to get you a mobile. I don't want to not know where you are."

They make a quick stop at a mobile phone retailer, and Rose chooses a small, sleek phone. She can text and take pictures on it.

"Thank you, John. You really don't need to give me a phone," Rose says.

"It's fine. No problem."

John hails a cab and they head back to the flat. In the cab, John asks, "What exactly did you whisper in Anderson's ear?"

Rose smirks. "I merely pointed out the obvious. I said, 'Jealous of Sherlock much?' "

"How did you know Anderson was jealous of Sherlock?"

"You're kidding, right?" Rose looks at John. "Well, I noticed how Anderson looked at Sherlock when Sherlock wasn't paying attention. It was with loathing and hate. There's only, really, a few reasons you would hate someone? One, you want to be them. Two, you hate yourself. Three, you feel threatened. To Anderson, Sherlock fulfills all three."

"How?"

"Sherlock is brilliant and handsome. But I never said that," Rose gives John a pointed glare. John smiles. "Poor Anderson must absolutely hate himself when he compares himself to Sherlock. And it doesn't help that Sherlock insults Anderson all the time, calling him an idiot. Although he really is one. I really feel sorry for Anderson."

"How did you know he would react so violently?"

"I didn't. I knew he would be angry, but I didn't know he would react like that. Lestrade punching Anderson was a bonus, though."

The cab pulls up to 221b, and John pays the cab fare.

"Don't mind us, Sherlock. We've got it," John remarks sarcastically as they carry the shopping up the stairs. Rose begins putting the shopping away. John looks at Sherlock. "Is that my computer?"

"Of course."

"What?"

"Mine was in the bedroom."

"And you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John pauses. "It's password protected!"

"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox," says Sherlock.

"Right, thank you." John closes the computer and puts it back. He sits down and starts going through the pile of bills. Rose finishes putting away the groceries and stands in the doorway of the kitchen.

"What about the diamond case, Sherlock?" she asks.

"Not especially interested. I left them a message."

"I see, by the giant scratch on the table an the sword underneath your chair."

John gives a start. "What? Sherlock?" He spots the sword. "Oh, Sherlock, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sherlock is surprised.

"For saying you'd barely moved and basically calling you lazy."

Sherlock waves his hand. John looks back at the pile of bills.

"Need to get a job."

"Oh, dull," Sherlock dismisses the thought.

"I'd help, but it would be kind of awkward, seeing as I technically don't exist," Rose quips.

John smiles at her. Then he turns to Sherlock. "Listen, um, if you'd be able to lend me some, um…" he trails off. "Sherlock, you listening?"

"I need to go to the bank."

He stands dramatically and leaves. "You coming, John, Rose?"

Rose grins and runs downstairs. John groans and grabs his jacket.