Spoiler alert: The Great Game
Chapter 12 in which John learns the distinction between helping and caring.
John got himself entangled in the cases like never before. On one side Mycroft's plans, on the other the bomber and his riddles. The unsettling fact was that the bomber designed it all to be a game for Sherlock.
"Has it occurred to you that the bomber is playing a game with you?" asked John and all he got as a reply was a yes with no disturbance. Shortly after that came new warning with a picture and John had an opportunity to gave his part to the case.
"Lucky for you I've been more than little unemployed," said John. He never thought that his watching television with Mrs Hudson will prove useful.
After that, he even got one wild moment when he thought he solved the case in that gay household. Sitting awkwardly in the puffy sofa with an old gay man staring straight into him he thought everything was simple enough as one cat's scratch. Of course, he was wrong and Sherlock got the right answer, Raul a house boy he didn't properly noticed.
"Well obviously I've lost that round" Sherlock said after long silence. "Although technically I did solve the case." He still talked in terms of victory.
John struggled to understand something bigger behind it all.
"Do you think he wants to be caught?" He asked hoping for some sane answer.
"I think he wants to be distracted" said Sherlock and John smiled at his own naivety to hope he'll get any other reason.
"You'll be very happy together" he said to Sherlock accepting that Sherlock and the bomber were made from the same cloth. They saw people just as pawns in their game, nothing real. John tried because he couldn't help himself to gain some reaction from him, some human emotion, but nothing came out.
"Did I disappoint you?" Sherlock was confused and finally got something other than calculating paths and courses of the game.
But then Sherlock looked at him.
"Don't make people into heroes John. Heroes don't exist. And if they did I wouldn't be one of them."
And that was the cold hearted fact that John had difficulties to accept because sometimes Sherlock would shine and look like a hero, times like this made that bitter expirience.
"Oh, you're angry with me so you won't help" Sherlock accused him of stop helping because of compassion so he sat down and continued with the work. No matter how bothered he was with Sherlock's lack of reaction there were someone else on the line, and they needed to keep working.
John looked into dead man's life and talked to fiancé of MI6 agent trying to keep Mycroft's case somewhere. When he arrived Sherlock waited him on the door.
"No hobbies?" He dismissed John's efforts right off. "Luckily I wasn't idle" he said and took them to the tunnels and explained his homeless network which gave light to their earlier meeting with homeless girl. When golem's shadow appeared on the wall John wished he had his gun, but he didn't even finish that sentence when Sherlock handed it to him. Golem escaped in the car and John was able to provide on direction of his next target, which made him less idle than Sherlock assumed.
"How long are you been following me?" he knew instantly he didn't just pop up accidentally.
"Since the start" he answered simply and they went to solve this at last. The brother, of course it was someone John had come across. The plans were in their hands, everything turned out to be stupid and impulsive without real means to sell the plans.
At home it was cold because of the windows they still didn't get around to fix, and Sherlock was watching crappy television yelling at the screen, John had finished his blog entry.
"I knew it was dangerous" he said to Sherlock about him watching telly and tried to get confession that last couple of days were full of things that Sherlock stated useless to his cases but proved to be vital. Of course he contradicted him that that knowledge didn't help John to solve it.
"No, but I'm not world's only consulting detective" he said and went off to Sarah hoping for something more substantial this evening. Sherlock surprised him on his way out; he said he'll do the shopping. It was some kind of redemption, he was sure of that, but what kind he wasn't sure, with Sherlock you could never tell of which things he would repent.
And just when he thought he'll get some time off he found himself all strapped up in explosives by the swimming pool. He was scared senseless but somehow he found it ridiculous, the swimming pool and all, why here? He should have known... Sherlock would, but his mind refused to work anything else than project trajectories of his body pieces scattered around the water and walls, or would they survive the blast? There were awful allot explosives on him, but surely they won't blow up. Sherlock would come, he would think a way; he was smart that way, smart enough not to get upset and emotional. He will outthink that silly man. All John had to do is to stand there and let himself to be rescued, not the gracious of all roles, but better that than be blasted away. That triggered new string of thoughts related to explosion victims and he had seen his share of that, the smell, and screams. He won't get a chance to scream, but still.
No, Sherlock will come, he forced himself to focus on that, he'll put his mind to motion and work his magic, maybe even with sense of glee and triumph. John will not mind that, not this time. He just needs to show up, figure it out. Time dragged along too slow, it seemed like eternity.
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