John made it back to the flat that night before Sherlock had returned. Mrs. Hudson let him in with the promise that she would get him his own key within the next few days allowing him to come and go as he pleased. She also assured him that he was welcome to any of the furniture in the upstairs room that he needed. He thanked her as he headed upstairs to put the small number of things he owned away. Unlike Sherlock, everything he owned could fit into a duffle bag as it had been years since he had needed a room outside of what the military provided. His depression had also not allowed him to accumulate material things after as he didn't see the point. He didn't plan on being on this earth that much longer anyway and had really only needed a change of clothing and his gun. Sherlock had changed that for him, and for the first time since he was shot, he actually felt as if he had a future.
Sherlock himself was a mystery that John wanted to unravel. He didn't tend to judge people by their past as everyone made mistakes. He had dabbled in weed back in high school, but he never really cared for it and decided not to continue to smoke it once he decided to join the military to become a doctor. Addiction was also something he could understand. His father had been an alcoholic choosing to hide in the garden shed and drink away any money they had saved while his mother struggled to keep food on the table for them. He had looked up to his father not realizing that the trips they took out to the lake while his mother worked were just an excuse for him to leave John and Harry to fend for themselves for the day while he got drunk at a local pub. At the time John had enjoyed the freedom but looking back it amazed him that nothing bad had befallen him and his sister as they looked after themselves for hours on end. By the time John was thirteen and Harry was 15 his illusion of his father had begun to fade. By then Harry had started dating her first girlfriend and while their father had never voiced his disappointment it was clear in his eyes every time he saw the two of them together.
That summer John's life changed forever when his father woke early one morning and rather than going to work chose to disappear for three days with another woman. His parents divorced, and his mother quickly remarried the first man that came into her life. He never saw his real father again after that as they moved across the country and his father started his new life. His step-father had been a horrible man and had driven John to the military as a means of escaping his hold while Harry had chosen the bottle. John watched on unable to help as his sister followed in their father's footsteps ruining employment opportunities, friendships, and finally her marriage as she continued to put the alcohol first. John still tried to help her but Harry refused to give up the comfort of the bottle and John wondered if she ever would. Because of his father and sister's addictions, John rarely drank on his own. He didn't mind indulging at parties or in social situations but even at the lowest point in his life, he refused to find comfort in the amber liquid. If he was going to die, it would be on his terms and with a clear head that wasn't clouded by the alcohol.
He couldn't help but wonder what had caused Sherlock to dive into drugs in the first place and risk the beautiful mind that he had. Maybe one day Sherlock would trust him enough to tell him the story and what had caused him to decide to quit. In the meantime, he would keep a silent eye on the man. Knowing how addiction worked, he also knew that even four years on there was a chance that Sherlock could relapse. As a doctor, he hoped that he would be able to see the signs in order to help the man back to sobriety rather than allow the drugs to overtake his life again.
Finishing unpacking and putting away the small number of things he owned, John left his room heading down to the kitchen. Going through the cupboards he found them bare and the refrigerator had what looked like a human liver but nothing edible. Sighing, he pulled back on his coat. He stopped off briefly to borrow a key from Mrs. Hudson before going down to the nearest Tesco. He used most of the last of the money he had to stock up on groceries for a few days including a box of tea for the two of them to enjoy. Returning home, he found himself still alone as he put everything away. He made himself a small meal of pasta for dinner and ate it in front of the fireplace as he read one of the few books he owned.
It was late in the night and he was considering retiring to bed when the front door finally opened. He could hear Sherlock as he stomped unhappily up the stairs. John watched as Sherlock came into the flat, scanning it with just his eyes before throwing himself onto the couch without removing his coat.
"Bad day?" John asked. Sherlock glared at him before flipping over to face the back of the couch effectively ignoring him. John shook his head as he stood. "Well, I am knackered. So, I will see you in the morning." John headed towards the stairs leaving Sherlock to pout. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock lift his head looking confused at the fact that John was ignoring him as well but he didn't say anything as John headed up to bed.
Once the door to John's room was closed, Sherlock pulled himself off the couch. He threw his coat towards the hook by the door not caring that it landed on the floor as he began to pace. He had spent the day at Barts testing the pills from the cab driver and now he had more questions than answers. He didn't understand how both pills had been poisonous when he was positive that he had chosen the correct one. Had the cabby tricked people into thinking he was going to take the pill as well then used the gun in order to ensure he didn't actually have to or had he planned for this game to be his last. Was he planning on committing suicide last night taking Sherlock out in the process? But that also didn't make any sense. The man received money for the people he killed and he needed the money for his family. It was sentiment but gave the man a reason to keep going. While Sherlock was still grateful that John saved his life he was also angry. John had removed the chance of getting answers and now he could never reliably know why both pills had been poisoned.
He paced for hours going over every detail of the case but by morning he still didn't have an answer. Hearing John start to stir, he threw himself back on the couch facing the back once more. John came down the stairs and mumbled a good morning before disappearing into the shower. Sherlock ignored him as John moved around the flat that day placing cups of tea on the table behind him at regular intervals. At one point he fell asleep for a few hours and woke to a new cup of tea being sat on the table. He didn't speak to John as he continued to lay there as the day passed. At just after five he heard a key in the door and the steady steps of someone climbing them. He groaned as the man reached the top of the stairs. Lestrade didn't bother to knock as he came into the flat. John looked up from his laptop as Greg turned to the man sulking on the couch.
"I'm not going," Sherlock informed him speaking for the first time that day.
"Yes, you are. Now I got here early to give you time to get ready but if you want to sulk until six I can just drag you out in the clothes you are currently wearing. Either way, you are going to dinner," Lestrade told him firmly.
Sherlock rolled his eyes as he turned his head scanning Lestrade with them. Greg was still wearing the same clothing from forty-eight hours ago as he had been working to tie up loose ends on the cabby case. Sherlock proving both pills were poisonous had helped with building the case but they still needed motive and to give the families closure. He had only taken several catnaps in the chair behind his desk as he worked and was looking forward to a meal before going home for the night to finally sleep.
"Fine," Sherlock sighed as he got to his feet heading towards the shower. The door slammed shut and Greg took a seat on the couch.
"So you are here to take him to dinner," John stated slightly confused.
"I am. His parents are in town tonight and the five of us are going to dinner," Greg responded he didn't wait for the inevitable question as he continued. "And before you get any ideas, no I am not dating Sherlock. I am with his brother."
"They have another brother?" John asked confused. Greg chuckled as he shook his head no.
"Not that I am aware of. I am dating Mycroft," Greg answered.
"Mycroft," John's shock came out clearly as he looked at Greg.
"Yes, Mycroft. I know he comes off a little strong but he isn't as bad as Sherlock makes him seem. He just has a stressful job and worries about the ones he cares for especially his little brother. I know he picked you up off the streets."
"Kidnapped," John interrupted.
"Kidnapped you off the streets, but he only did it with the best of intentions. You are the first person that Sherlock has willingly invited to live with him in years and we needed to be sure that you wouldn't bring harm to him," Lestrade told him.
"He offered me money to spy on his brother," John stated.
"Which you didn't take," Lestrade answered.
"He told you that did he?" John questioned.
"No, the fact that you are sitting here tells me that," Greg responded. He didn't need to clarify as John felt a shudder run up his spine. Even if he didn't find Mycroft intimidating he could still tell that he was a dangerous man and one that you didn't want to cross. John looked towards the closed door wondering if he had jumped too quickly into his new living arrangements after all. "Look, I know living with a Holmes brother can be difficult and I am willing to meet up at the pub if you ever just want to talk or watch a match."
"I'd like that," John nodded. They went quiet as the door to Sherlock's room opened and he stepped out wearing a tight suit with a red shirt. His hair was perfectly styled and he was adjusting the cuffs as he approached the two of them.
"Have the two of you finished discussing my past or should I take a few more minutes getting ready?" Sherlock asked his voice full of venom as he glared at the two of them.
"We weren't discussing you. He was asking me about my relationship with Mycroft," Lestrade stated getting to his feet. Sherlock gagged and John chuckled. Lestrade just rolled his eyes as he picked Sherlock's coat up off the floor. He handed it to Sherlock who put it on fixing the scarf around his neck.
"If I text you Vatican Cameos it means I need rescuing and you are to come immediately," Sherlock informed John.
"He's kidding," Greg told John pushing Sherlock towards the door. "I'll have him home in one piece later tonight. They disappeared down the stairs and John moved to the window watching as they both got into a car that was parked out front. He watched it pull away as he once more wondered what he was getting himself into.