CHAPTER 38. NO OBJECTIONS
John pulled out the deep sleep, like a drowning man coming up for air. The remnants of his dream seemed just out of reach. Leaving him with the customary confusion he had grown used to upon awaking.
This one, at least hadn't left him trembling and bathed in his own sweat. Taking another deep breath he came to a sitting position. For a minute he thought he was back in his tent. Except the pillows weren't regulation, as in flat and without any fluff to them. Taking another deep breath made him very much aware of the smell of coffee and spice. This very familiar scent surrounded John, bringing back memories, some not all together bad.
He winced at the sharp pain that shot through his shoulder and down his body, taking a deep breath he waited for the ache to pass. To his surprise someone had propped him up onto several soft pillows. His arm was in a blue sling and he was definitely not wearing his own clothes. The ex soldier moved off the bed, glancing around the sparsely furnished room.
A tall oak dresser, a closet and a poster of the periodic table. John could hear the soft one sided chatter through the door. He wondered if it were the telly or radio, he moved across the soft carpet. His cheeks burned red when he glanced down at the pajama bottoms and unfamiliar shirt. Despite the slight ache and stiffness of his shoulder he felt relatively rested. The light chatter grew closer as if just outside the door. The ex soldier hesitated before opening the door with his good hand. Peeking out he could see a kitchen, the table was cluttered with what looked like a mad scientist's chemistry set.
"Really the mess you made!" The woman who had been speaking earlier breezed by a confused John Watson. "Sherlock I am not your housekeeper-" the fragile looking elderly woman shook her head. The purple dress she wore seemed like something a gran would wear. She went to the sink and started the water.
"You young man, are an absolute-" she paused and turned over to see John standing and watching her with the bluest eyes. Mrs. Hudson was reminded of a day lying in the grass as a child staring up at a cloudless sky in her mother's garden. The sky had seemed so clear and blue, much like those eyes watching her now. "Oh-Doctor Watson you're awake."
"Uh-excuse me. I don't mean to sound –uh who are you?"
Mrs. Hudson smiled brightly ignoring the question. "Oh! And with manners. Finally, he's brought home a good one. And a Doctor." She took John's good arm. "Now you come along take a seat dear, unfortunately the table in here is completely useless what with god knows what kind of dangerous chemicals! You just sit here, at the small card table and I'll bring you some breakfast."
"Breakfast-I-" John tried to get his brain to work, but the kindly looking woman had him sitting at a small table in the corner of the kitchen confused as all hell.
"Omelet I think. A nice vegetable omelet." She placed a warm cup of tea in front of him. "There you go dear you start on that. Here is some paracemtamol for the ache." John gratefully accepted.
Sherlock watched unseen from the window, John was preoccupied with a chattering Mrs. Hudson. She could be rather bothersome with her pestering, insisting that one eats. John's hair was a bit disheveled he still looked pale, he'd slept somewhat decently.
"Uh-thank you ma'am but-" John tried to make his voice sound less unsure and more firm, but the older woman easily pushed any protest aside.
"Don't you dare try and tell me you aren't hungry. Now eat up dear." Mrs. Hudson placed a plate in front of John.
"Thank you-"
"Mrs. Hudson dear. I am the landlady," She looked over her shoulder in Sherlock's direction "Not the housekeeper." Then she was gone taking up a basket of dirty laundry.
"Slept well Doctor Watson?" Sherlock could have kicked himself for such an obvious question. Why did he say Doctor Watson so formal, he could call him John couldn't he? That wasn't so hard, even with John looking at him with those wide unreadable blue eyes.
"Uh-yes. Where are my clothes?"
"Mrs. Hudson took them to be cleaned. She said not to leave you in your street clothes. She's the one who produced those abominable pants and shirt you have the misfortune of wearing. I apologize but it seemed it would fit your stature better."
"Oh-did. Uh did you-" John cleared his throat putting his fork down, his face flushing. "Did you dress me?" John didn't look over in Sherlock's direction, in fact he found something very interesting to stare at on the wall in front of him.
"Don't be so shy dear. You're a doctor. We got you into those pajamas without a struggle." John winced his face burning bright red. Well he could at least find some comfort that it wasn't just Sherlock to see him in his boxers. "You eat up." She poured John another cup of tea, "I'm washing clothes, when I finish yours, I'll get them back up here to you."
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson. That was very kind of you. But I can wear them as they are-" The older woman smiled cheerfully ignoring John's protests.
"Such good manners. Maybe you can get this one to follow suit." She only shook her head, patting John's good arm softly and taking her leave.
"I would eat if I were you. Mrs. Hudson can be very adamant about these kinds of things." Sherlock glared down at the half piece of eaten toast in his hand holding it up for John to see.
It was then that the tension lifted, and Sherlock heard something he thought he wouldn't ever hear again. Starting at a low rumble then a quick intake of air, John threw his head back and started laughing. His shoulders trembled despite his injury, and he put a hand to his stomach, eyes watering. Sherlock frowned as if John had gone mad, perhaps he'd hit his head or the painkiller had yet to leave his system.
"I'm sorry." He sniffed wiping his eyes, trying to catch his breath. "I'm sorry. I was-it's just." He shook his head, attempting to breathe steadily.
"What?" Sherlock frowned again.
"It's just I never thought I'd see the day that you Sherlock Holmes would be taking orders from your housekeeper or uh landlady."
"She has a way of making my life difficult if I do not comply. It's for the sake of peace in the flat." Sherlock's left eyebrow raised incredulously, John stifled another fit of giggles. He hadn't had a laugh in a long time and it felt good, despite the pain in his shoulder. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him that there was a hot plate of food on the table. Best not bring on the wrath of the housekeeper/landlady Mrs. Hudson. If Sherlock Holmes was afraid of her, then it was wise for John Watson to just comply, for the sake of peace.
"John-"
"Sherlock-"
Sherlock tried to break the silence again, except both men spoke at the same time.
"You go on." Once more dual voices.
"Go ahead. Sorry." John gestured to Sherlock who was moving to sit at the small table in the corner. He took the chair opposite of John, his plate of toast placed to his left in disgust. Sherlock's phone rang he recognized the number to be the morgues, Molly must have left her mobile at home again.
"Excuse me John-"
"Go ahead take it." John replied sipping his tea, he watched the dark haired man through blond lashes.
The man was still beautiful, even more so in a tight fitting black suit and a blue silk shirt. The sound of Sherlock's voice was like warm honey and his cupid's bow lips formed an irritated grin. John felt the urge to run his hands through those messy dark curls. No, John Watson. You will not fantasize about your ex boyfriend. You are not going to be a swooning schoolgirl. He doesn't look like an addict, he's put on a little bit of weight. Well good for him. It's not my business. We aren't ever going to be anything. Still something, different about him. What is it? John pushed these thoughts away.
"Alright. I'll be right there." Sherlock turned to John with a pleading look. "I have an arm to pick up. If I don't get it by noon then it's forfeit. Mrs. Hudson will have your clothes to you. Just eat, make yourself at home. I'll be back in an hour. If you're gone before I return. Thank you for your assistance John."
"Uh-yeah. And thanks for, well for the adrenaline rush then letting me pass out in the car, it couldn't have been easy dragging me around. Hope I didn't-" Sherlock frowned, John was pushing a piece of omelet around on his plate.
"John, you walked a bit drunkenly but nothing Lestrade and I couldn't handle. Besides it's Lestrade's fault you're injured at all."
"Right. I have a low tolerance for pain medication."
Sherlock nodded in reply "I remember." Another awkward silence and Sherlock was pulling his scarf on and coat. The consulting detective dashed out the door. On his way out he yelled to Mrs. Hudson that he'd be back.
Martha Hudson smiled mischievously, that boy wasn't going to ruin this. The Doctor was a definite catch, and a Doctor. What mother wouldn't want their child to marry a Doctor. She wasn't Sherlock's mother but he was the closest she'd come to a son. So she straightened her dress, taking the tray of fresh biscuits and scones heading for the stairs.
That young man looked absolutely worn down. Who was taking care of him? Young men these days so careless with their health, well she'd see to him today. And of course he wasn't going to go anywhere until his clothes were washed but she had so much to do around the house it might slip her mind.