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Sherlock fell to the floor, grasping at the counter as he attempted to right himself, only for the cloaked man to grab him by the back of his coat and throw him back onto the floor, straddling him and wrapping his hands around the long white neck. Sherlock tried to push the man off but was effectively pinned and loosing oxygen fast.
John stared on with wide eyes before he gasped and swung into action. He grabbed a pair of brass knuckles that lay on the trolley and slid them on before he ran and tackled the man off Sherlock, pressing him to the floor in a similar manner. John restrained the man's wrists above his head and the hood spilled around the man's head, exposing his weasel-like face. The blonde pulled his fist back before slamming it into the man's face, punching continuously regardless of the blood until the man was out cold.
John heaved as he slowly, sluggishly, stood up and stared down at the bloodied man. He let the knuckles fall from his hand before turning and looking at Sherlock, whom was gasping and sputtering while leaning heavily on his left elbow and facing the floor.
The blonde rushed forward and sank to the floor in front of the brunette and reached for his face, cupping it between his hands and making the other look at him.
"You all right?"
Sherlock stared at him, not gracing him with an answer as he continued to wheeze and rub his throat. John's eyes shone with unshed tears, the relief and the worry filling him until he just didn't care and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the still, full lips of his flatmate. John pulled away, looking up hesitantly at the other, whom simply quirked a brow before standing up and brushing himself off.
"No time for such things, John. Help me find some rope to tie him up with."
John sighed and got up, helping Sherlock rummage around until they found a good length of rope. They quickly tied the man up and made sure he couldn't get loose before Sherlock pulled out his phone and informed Lestrade that one of the cults-men was incapacitated and to come collect him.
"Before they come," Sherlock murmured while slipping his mobile in his pocket, "Let's get some evidence to continue the lead. Look for anything interesting, especially if they're cyphers."
John nodded and made his way to the opposite side of the room to study what was there and take pictures of other bits. He took a photo of the chalice- which had glyphs on it- the items on the trolley and many other things, but found nothing of interest.
"Let's go."
John looked up, staring at the other incredulously, but stopped shortly as he saw a few new glyphs in his hand.
"John. This isn't the time to stand around, we have leads to follow." Sherlock stated, briskly walking from the room and out of the building, John hurrying after.
"All right, next we shoul-"
"No, Sherlock. You need to rest. You lost too much oxygen to the brain, I rather you stay at home tonight and continue on tomorrow."
"There is simply no time to do such frivolous things. Come, now, John. Leads to follow, mysteries to solve. My health can wai-" Sherlock stumbled mid-rant, his hand landing over his eyes as his other held tightly onto John's shoulder.
"I told you. Let's get you home."
Sherlock went to express his displeasure but a fierce look from his companion shut the tall man up. He sighed and followed John into the cab.
"Stop sulking. There's nothing you can do if you're in bad shape. One night won't change anything."
"It can change everything, John. It only takes an hour for evidence to diminish."
"You can decipher the cyphers tonight so you don't have to take a moment to translate it. Sounds logical to me."
Sherlock sighed, crossing his arms for his friend had a point. He huffed and conceded to the man's will much to his chagrin.
Once they arrived on Baker Street they quickly entered their flat and John set about the den, placing pens, notepads and other miscellaneous items about on the table in front of the armchair before bustling into the kitchen to make some tea. Sherlock cocked a brow before settling himself into his armchair and pulling the cyphers from his pocket, spreading them out on the table in no particular order before bending over them and studying them, pulling out a sheet of paper and placing it between the cyphers and the notebook.
John smiled in his direction before he continued to make the tea, stirring in a little sugar before picking up the cup and carrying it back to the den, placing it near Sherlock, but not in a place he could knock it over.
"Thanks." Sherlock murmured, a quick glance at the blonde, before he went back to translating the cyphers onto the notebook.
John smiled before settling at the table, pulling his laptop towards himself and surfing the web as the other furiously worked. He opened his blog and began typing out a page for his friend's benefit. Explaining his mother's death, how he's holding up and why he's not in school. His few friends followed his blog and he smiled as he thought of a few amusing moments he had back at school. In all honesty, he missed his simple school life where he worked hard to become a doctor, but nothing could replace the adrenaline rush the case gave him nor the way Sherlock made his heart sore when he brilliantly deduced things others didn't. He sighed to himself and continued typing away.
A few hours had passed, Sherlock was still furiously scribbling in the notebook, a few cyphers pushed to the side. On occasion he would lean back and close his eyes, muttering under his breath and sometimes moving a finger as if going over an invisible map in the air. John watched, intrigued, but let the man his privacy and went back to his computer. He pulled up Facebook to see if any of his friends were on for a quick chat or phone call. He pursed his lips as he opened the chat bar and scrolled through his contacts until he saw Mary was on. He bit his lower lip and went to get off when he got a message from his now ex girlfriend.
Mary: How are you doing?
John: Fine, how have you been?
Mary: Okay, school has been busy.
John: Yeah, I miss school.
Mary: Really?
John: Yeah.
Mary: Has anything happened between you and Sherlock yet?
John wasn't sure about answering the question but what did he have to hide from her? She already knew about how he felt about Sherlock. She was the one who realised it first, after all.
John: Um… I kissed him.
Mary: What was his reaction?
John: He ignored it.
Mary: Seriously? He ignored it? He didn't say anything about it.
John: It was sudden, someone tried killing him.
Mary: … Is he alright?
John: Yes, and I am fine too. I beat the man.
Mary: Never known you to fight.
John: The guy tried killing the man I love.
He had just typed that. He admitted he was in love with the man. In love? He was in love with the man Strange, it didn't take long.
Mary: Love?
John: Um… you know what I mean.
Mary: John, if you love him that much you should tell him.
John: I will, but probably after the case. I better go I am sure you have homework.
Mary: Yeah, talk later.
John let out a sigh as he closed the browser window, his hand over his eyes as he sighed deeply. He didn't really need that. He looked at his flatmate, whom was still writing with wild eyes as his fingers deftly moved over the glyphs, and felt his heart constrict. He reached for the cup of tea and to his surprise it was empty.
"It was good, thank you."
John nearly dropped the cup, not expecting the deep baritone.
"You're welcome." He murmured, smiling as he took the cup to the sink and rinsed it, putting it in the strainer.
"Good night. Please stay in until tomorrow." John said quietly before ascending the stairs and disappearing into his room.
Winterimperfect wrote the chapter (i just wrote the conversation between Mary and John)