Between scenes.

Ch 33 in which our hero Sherlock is thinking in the darkness.

Sherlock walked through the darkness alone. He wasn't ready to get in the car with the rest of them. John was better at dealing with people anyway.

He was still high on adrenaline and the drug still made him jumpy. Now when he knew the nature of the drug it was easier to deal with its side-effects. It was a challenge really to walk through the darkness and not to run and hide.

At the pub, the restless crowd was on the street looking at the fire that was left after the explosion and the firemen yelling in the distance.

Sherlock just ignored them and went to their room. There he got out of his clothes. It seemed too tight on him. He paced back and forth trying to make his mind cooperate and calm down. He had other plans to do out here with John but nothing went his way. Worse yet, Lestrade appeared.

John would never relax knowing that Lestrade is under the same roof they were. That's why Sherlock was so furious to see him here. It was just as bad as Mycroft appearing to sniff around with his long nose. Wouldn't he want to know everything that it is to know of Sherlock's business?

With that thought, his phone rang.

"I heard," Mycroft said without a hello, they never bothered with pleasantries, Mycroft and Sherlock. "I'm sure Lestrade came in handy."

"We would cope without him," Sherlock shouted. "Why did you send him?"

"Careful, brother mine, that drug is more than potent. I hope you and your doctor don't have guns lying around," Mycroft's voice was menacing.

"We know how to handle stress," Sherlock growled.

"Of course you do," Mycroft mocked him. "You two seem to thrive on it. Lestrade is just a precaution, the one you might appreciate a bit more, I could have sent the whole security team to follow you wherever you go, your doctor and you wouldn't like that, would you. You two like to indulge in the illusion of freedom."

"Precaution before what?" Sherlock had no patience for him.

"I had to let him go, I used all excuses I could find. There was none left," Mycroft sighed. "Even I must oblige the law, otherwise what's the difference between us and them."

With that Mycroft hung up and Sherlock left standing in the dark. He was glad now that Mycroft didn't tell him that earlier. In the hollow, when he saw Moriarty's phantasm who knows would he cope so easily with the terror of it.

Moriarty was out and about. What will be his next move? Will he start immediately or will he wait? By what he had shown so far he'll probably wait some more just to get on Sherlock's nerves.

Sherlock kept pacing thinking of angles and strategies. Where will he start? How will Sherlock recognize his game from any ordinary crime? Even with the woman, it took Sherlock time to unveil him behind everything. Here it seemed to be just an unrelated case, something outside of Moriarty's network.

It was a relief to breathe out of his schemes, if just for a while, but that didn't mean that someone of the guests here isn't his goons waiting in the shadows.

Some lies even Sherlock couldn't detangle.

In that state, John found him.

Sherlock had barely registered his entrance when John was already taking off his clothes. Sherlock missed a step when he just swung his shirt across the room. Then the pants were off and before Sherlock could say anything he was already in his bed hitting his pillow to adjust it for sleep.

"Don't bother me unless it's an end of the world," John said not even looking at Sherlock

"How can you sleep? I'm still pumped up with adrenaline," Sherlock couldn't understand what he was seeing, John's eyes were already closing. "I was just slightly dosed last night and I haven't slept all night."

"That's because you're all nerves and muscles," John's voice was sleepy and gentle. "I live under adrenaline all the time. It's just annoying noise in the background most of the time. This level of fear is very tiring. I never feared anything like that, except my father. You get used to it. It's best to just sleep it off and forget."

The last word got cut off and John was already sleeping. Sherlock just stood there staring at him and wondering what else he would say in his drugged and sleepy state. John never spoke of his parents of his childhood. What kind of a man was his father to make John scared like that, to shiver in the corner not daring to speak let alone confront the monster?

Sherlock didn't like to think about that. If anything, Sherlock had normal parents, the ones most people would consider a blessing. For Sherlock, they were annoying because they rarely understood what he was saying and most of the time just kept going by their own habits not really looking around.

There was nothing to do and Sherlock wasn't ready to go out in the darkness drugged knowing that Moriarty is free to roam and make his own plans. Here he had John to protect him if needed. John did that excellently. He wasn't even aware that he's doing it because most of the time John Watson was just an ordinary doctor, someone trustworthy and caring. That was most of the time but sometimes when the danger arises John was a soldier ready to do whatever it takes to stop bad things from happening.

Sherlock thought about that cabby John shot for him. He shot him because Sherlock was on the verge of taking that pill just to prove he's clever.

Now that person seemed so far away. That was Sherlock before John took care of him. Now he wouldn't dare to do something so stupid because he knew John would be furious at him just for thinking something like that.

What kinds of thoughts were these? Probably just the drug talking.

Sherlock got up on his bed crouching on the pillow trying to think and make plans, to see the future, to adjust his predictions to Moriarty's releasing.

"Sherlock," John's voice interrupted Sherlock's thoughts.

Although John thought otherwise, Sherlock was aware when John would speak when he was deep in thought. The only difference from other people was that Sherlock didn't mind hearing John speak, it would never interrupt his train of thoughts.

Usually, that is, this time it did. He stopped the thought and jumped on the floor to see what's wrong with John, his voice was all wrong.

When he was at his side Sherlock realized that John was still sleeping.

"Sleep talking," Sherlock whispered.

That was the most unusual thing people did. Sherlock was sure he didn't do anything like it. He filmed himself sleeping to check. For John, he still didn't have an opportunity to observe him sleep. John locked his door at night. Sherlock was a bit offended by that because he knew that John locks them to keep Sherlock out, not for other reasons.

Now John growled under breath and Sherlock frowned. Maybe he just heard him wrong.

He was about to return to his bed when John said his name again.

"Well," Sherlock said quietly. "It isn't strange that you dream of me, probably we're just chasing some criminals, after all, it was an eventful evening."

With that John moved, his whole body moved. Sherlock flinched back not sure what he's seeing. Then he noticed that John's behind moved and in his sleep John bite the pillow.

Then he growled and relaxed turning his head away from Sherlock.

In the darkness, Sherlock felt ambushed, as someone just proved him that the world is flat.

He jumped back to his bed not sure what to do. John rubbed his cheek against the pillow and murmured something unrecognizable but it sounded tender.

Sherlock felt how the heat his rising to his cheeks and to his disapproval he got aroused.

"That never happens," he said dissatisfied. "Not randomly."

John again moved in his sleep hugging the pillow tightly and Sherlock could imagine himself just sliding beneath him in his sleep. Would he notice? Would he wake up or just took it as a part of his dream?

That wasn't an option, not really, because Sherlock knew what would happen if John would wake up. He would get angry. John easily got angry.

Sherlock also knew that he would manage to find an excuse and turn it to a joke but he didn't know what would happen if John wouldn't get angry. Surely, now wasn't time to test it. They both were drugged and their reactions couldn't be as easily predicable as usual.

That was probably it, just the drug influencing Sherlock.

Usually, Sherlock had his sexuality under control. Very early on Sherlock decided that sexuality is just a waste of time, a distraction really, something that prevented you from seeing people and situations for what they were.

For instance, now John just dreamt of the chase but his drugged mind confused the danger for arousal. There were other possibilities but that one was most likely.

Sherlock was satisfied with that reasoning but his arousal didn't go away. Usually, his thoughts were distracting enough for it to just go away. Rarely, when Sherlock would attempt to indulge in self-release he would just forget what he was doing and the moment would pass.

Like that time when he ended up in a sheet in the Buckingham palace. John had left, their client sat there as a part of the furniture, placid and unmovable, Sherlock barely noticed him.

What he noticed was John's behind as he went out the door grumbling and arguing like he didn't already submit to going out to the crime scene by himself. The sight was so delightful and stimulating that Sherlock felt he could do something with it.

He got in his room and got out of his clothes but then his mind wondered from John's luring anger, the one in which he would do what he was told, towards the dangers of leaving the protection of London. The countryside was so open and vast that their bodies could be hidden anywhere.

Those thoughts led him to sleep and soon he was woken up by John's angry voice as he set up the video call with Sherlock. There was nothing to do but to put a sheet around himself and just see what is out there. The boomerang shouldn't be hard to find.

It was hard to find and the security men came to get him. He used his sheet to have some fun with Mycroft. His arousal was forgotten and his mind sharp.

Now his mind was anything but sharp and his arousal didn't go away just so.

John was sleeping so there was no real danger in taking care of that inconvenience. It wasn't hard to do so. Sherlock rarely indulged in such activities but when he did he had effective measures to ensure the shortest possible period of time to be wasted in vain.

When that was done, Sherlock felt a certain dose of relief and relaxation. He felt like he could fall asleep.

He whipped himself throwing the tissues on the floor. It's not like John is observant enough to notice, besides it's not like Sherlock really cared if he notices. It could be an interlude Sherlock searched for.

Truth to be told, Sherlock was already giving up on the idea that the convenient starter would arise. For all he knows, John wasn't really open to that idea. Besides, it's probably unnecessary. Sherlock couldn't really see how he would benefit from indulging in the intercourse. It was just skin rubbing against skin, there was nothing really meaningful to it.

It's not like his worldview would change.

Not from a few minutes of intimacy.

Still, as he covered his shoulder and let himself fall asleep, Sherlock wondered how it would feel like to be pulled in under John's warmth.

We'll see.