Spoilers The Hounds of Baskerville
Ch 28 in which our hero John is holding his ground.
John found it all very confusing. He had no clue what is going on.
For a moment, he left Sherlock and Henry alone. He fell behind to investigate strange lights and loud noises. If they were searching for a monster, John was the one to follow clues. Of course, it would all prove to be just silly echoes like that drops falling on an abandoned rusty canister.
Then there was growling and John ran towards the light to find Sherlock. To be alone with a stray dog in a forest wasn't John's idea of a smart move. When he found them, John asked about the growl but they were in a different state of shock.
Henry claimed that the beast showed itself to them and Sherlock denied it. Still, Sherlock acted strangely, his movements were all wrong, but Henry was in a higher state of alert so John attended to his needs first.
As they walked back towards Henry's house, John talked to him in a reassuring tone and gave him a sleeping pill when they were back at his home. Sherlock went straight to their pub.
When John found Sherlock sitting by the fire, he went all business trying to sum up what they know so far. Sherlock didn't react to his Morse code finding so he put it away. Sherlock often dismissed John's theories quite quickly that wasn't anything unusual.
He kept talking just to notice that Sherlock kept acting strangely.
"I saw it too," he said all shaken. "A hound, out there in the hollow."
John looked at his obvious fear in disbelief.
"A gigantic hound," he said with conviction and John laughed thinking that Sherlock is pulling a prank on him again.
"Sherlock, we have to be rational, about this," John smiled surprised at him. "Let's just stick to what we know, stick to the facts."
"Look at me, I'm afraid, John." Sherlock's hand was visibly shaking.
John wasn't unaccustomed to shaking hands, he had them for the longest time as a result of the war, but he didn't notice anything similar on Sherlock before.
"I was always able to keep myself distant," Sherlock kept talking. "Divorce myself from feelings. But you see, the body's betraying me."
John withdrew into his calm posture faced with emotional Sherlock. That was more than a little disturbing sight. In some way, John depended on Sherlock to stay detached and in control. That made them work. John's control and Sherlock's detachment went well together.
"Yeah, alright Spock, just take it easy," John leaned forward trying to reason with him. "You've been pretty wired lately, you know you have."
He was more irritable and jumpy than usual making strange moves and acting out of character.
"You got yourself worked up," John tried to reason with him. "It was dark and scary."
"Me? There's nothing wrong with me," Sherlock dismissed the notion that he would get scared like a normal human being by the darkness.
John had no problems in admitting that he was but not Sherlock Holmes. He had to prove himself clever, better than the rest of them.
"Sherlock," John tried to reach him in his state of obvious panic attack.
"There's nothing wrong with me," Sherlock yelled at him and John was furious.
It was one thing to yell at John in their apartment, in the privacy of their home, a completely another to yell at him in public like he has a right to humiliate John in whatever way he sees fit.
After that, he had his deduction game just to prove that he's still in control. John listened against his will he did love to look and see the small hands by his own arms but his deduction turned vile and it wasn't funny anymore.
"Leave me alone," Sherlock concluded his observation.
John looked at him feeling hurt by his blunt rejection of John's simple worry.
"Why would you listen to me," John said bitterly. "I'm just your friend."
"I don't have friends," Sherlock couldn't take even that so John decided it was best to leave.
"I wonder why," he said and went out to catch some air.
So often, after a fight with Sherlock, John was in a need of walking, fast walking without any goal, just to clear his thoughts and shake off his anger. But now he wasn't in London to walk around his familiar routes. So he went out just to breathe in the fresh air and release the stress of talking to Sherlock.
Then he noticed that light again. That was a good goal as any. If he's lucky he'll find something Sherlock has missed.
John walked through the dark towards the light just to find a couple having sex in their car. They forgot to turn off their lights.
He felt quite embarrassed by himself and his assumption there was a code displayed by flashlights in the dark.
As he went back Sherlock texted him to interview Henry's therapist.
"WHY SHOULD I?" he answered in full caps.
He still wanted to yell at Sherlock despite his long walk.
Instead of replying, Sherlock sent an image.
"You're a bad man," John said to himself knowing that he will interview the woman just because she was pretty.
Sherlock knew that about him. It was a foul trick to make but it also gave John a task. He wasn't obligated to address Sherlock in any manner tonight, or maybe even tomorrow.
As he talked to the therapist, John enjoyed himself. He forgot the anger he had towards Sherlock for the time being. A pleasant company of a woman who was also a colleague was enough for John to unwind.
John didn't tell her that he was an investigator but he didn't lie either. It was the best cover to play yourself. 'The disguise is always a self-portrait' said the Adler woman to Sherlock and John knew he always applied that rule never trying to be someone else. All he would do was to adjust who he was to the person he needed information from.
In the military base, that was his soldier persona. Which wasn't a pretend one, he used his real name and rank so even if they were caught he was who he said he was.
With the therapist was his comforting doctor persona, the one reserved for anxious patients. The doctor seemed nervous so John tried to comfort her. When she saw through his lie that he was an old friend, he just easily slipped back to a new friend and offered her a truth. The truth was that he was more than a little worried about Sherlock's state of mind. That didn't mean he wasn't still angry at him, just that he was worried.
John couldn't help himself. He worried about people even when he was angry at them. Maybe especially when he would be angry at them.
Then the scientist from Baskerville came and just bluntly broke his cover. Uncle Bob, as Henry called him, was the most irritating man John could imagine. He was not just imposing on a pleasant conversation that as well might be a date but also accusing John of being gay and Sherlock's boyfriend without saying so.
"In living," he said and John wanted to die right there on the spot.
Of course, that meant the end to their conversation and she was just about to tell John something interesting.
"I think he likes you," she said bitterly and John stayed sitting resigning with his fate.
Damn that Sherlock. Even when they don't know him the women can smell him from afar. He just ruined a perfectly enjoyable conversation by not even being present.
That was it. John resigned for the evening. In their room, Sherlock was nowhere in sight. That suited John just fine.
He got in his bed thankful that they didn't end up in a double room. How would that work exactly? John would rather sleep on the floor than to share a bed with Sherlock, he would even if he wasn't mad at Sherlock.
John positioned himself to see the door and sighed thinking how he won't sleep so easily but he did. In the next moment, it was morning and Sherlock's bed was untouched. He was nowhere to be seen.
That damn prick. In his state of mind, he could be off to anywhere. It wouldn't be surprising if he went on the train and left John here stranded. Even if he did, John wasn't a child, he knew how to find his way back home.
Sherlock's bag was by the bed all ruffled through. The used clothes were on the chair. That meant that he was here to change his clothes. That made John a bit uncomfortable, the fact that he slept through it all.
He took breakfast not searching for Sherlock or sending texts with questions. He was still angry. If they weren't friends, there wasn't a real reason for John to waste his time running around after Sherlock and withstanding his moods.
The car was parked by the pub still. There was nothing to do and he felt silly sitting in the pub by himself waiting for Sherlock by the pint of beer. That's why he went to the cemetery and sat between graves.
It was comforting somehow. The silence and the sense that the time is passing soothed him.
While he sat he went through his notes trying to find something of value but it all seemed like an irrelevant pile of bits and pieces.
Soon Sherlock was there talking business but John didn't feel like it. To pick up just like that like everything is alright. It wasn't alright and John was ready to walk away from him just to prevent himself from shouting at him in the middle of the graveyard. Maybe he had lost some of his manners since he lived with Sherlock but he still had a sense of decency.
Sherlock followed him trying to talk of his Morse code clue. John wasn't willing to share with him that joke of a clue. Any joke for that matter.
Pressing on.
At times, I feel that I'm stalling this but then I remind myself that each of these episodes would make a whole book so I'm basically rushing through.
Anyway, we're over 100 pages now and moving on.
