AN: Hello there. First things first, a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who reviewed, read and followed this story. It really means a lot to me. And I find it necessary to mention that John does see Sherlock every time, it's just he always thinks that it's his imagination playing tricks on him. I have been inspired by a part from the 'Sherlock pilot'. When Angelo throws Sherlock out of his restaurant, in order to make an impression of the other being drunk. So I kinda involved a similar happening here, just saying.:)
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters.
Chapter 2: Another Change
John sighed contently as he made his way through the park. The air was warm, gentle breezes blowing through his hair. He walked between railings barring his path, not quite knowing his destination yet.
Over to the right, he saw a children's playground, with swings and a sandpit and all being used by a group of youngsters. The laughter of small children running about, brought a smile to the former soldier's face.
On the other side of the path there was a lush plantation of many trees, of which fresh scent was filling the summer air to completion. As he walked further into the park, he saw rows of green benches, all of them taken. It seemed like everyone was loving the warmth and the sunshine of the day. People sitting on them, were busy with different activities. Some of them were eating sandwitches, having a cool drink, and some of them were just resting.
As he continued walking, over in the distance he saw a lonely bench, almost completely hidden under the massive but not unwelcome shade of the tree in the behind. 'My luck.' John thought and went right there.
Once again he noticed the peacefulness and the quiet of the area. Surely, this local park was a true wonder and right in the middle of the city too. John always enjoyed walking in the park, like many other people…he was thankful for its existence. It had become a place he walked often, when he wanted to set his mind off things.
He was nearly there, when a cheerful voice not from far away, stopped him in his tracks.
"John Watson!" came the familiar greeting of his old study mate.
"Hello!" exclaimed John as he met his friend Mike, then frowned. "You're looking a bit off colour. Anything wrong?"
"I'm afraid there is," replied Mike with a low chuckle, "I've had to give up drinking, smoking and gambling."
John laughed also, as they shook hands.
"I guess there's no use then, to offer you some beer?" he asked teasingly.
"Of course." Mike answered with an indignant snort. "It's a special occasion, isn't it?"
"Absolutely." John agreed with a nod. "So how have you been?"
Mike Stamford regarded him with a careful look and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You tell me." He said eventually, pointing at the object, tightly clutched in John's grip. The good doctor looked down too and acknowledged the cane with an uneasy smile. Ah…the cane. He shook his head in disapproval. What kind of rubbish had he been filling himself with? Since when did he enjoy quiet walks in a park? But would it be wiser to talk about the nightmares that had been plunging him? Or to mention that the limp was gradually returning?
"It's nothing. I'm fine." John said with a confident smile, moving the third foot ahead of them.
After a bit more of walking around, they finally decided to have some dinner. John felt rather uncomfortable when his friend wished to dine in the restaurant they had been to the last time. It being 'At Angelo's'. But John brushed it off as soon as they started conversing about random things. He, however, didn't know if he should be grateful or frustrated with Mike, who seemed to be tactfully avoiding saying anything about his former flat mate. More than once the man would open his mouth to speak up and then, as if remembering something, would close it quickly after.
When they started nearing the place and the average sized board with the restaurant's name came into view, John decided that he was actually glad, for Mike hadn't mentioned anything about the detective. Even the sight of the bright spot brought an unexpected weakness to the good doctor's knees.
John took a deep breath and wondered briefly, if had Mike known that him and Sherlock had been eating at Angelo's after almost every case, would've he still suggested coming here?
But he didn't have much time to linger on the idea as a man in a dark mask with a leather bag in his hands practically threw himself out of the said restaurant and continued his way running along the length of the street. Angelo appeared at the doorway a few seconds later, his deep voice roaring and his accent thick with fury.
John Watson reacted on an instinct. Ignoring Mike's questioning shouts, he dashed forward and after the man, who was obviously guilty. Although the criminal had a head start, John could tell that he was comparably faster than the doctor. With those abnormally long legs…
But John kept running, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He hadn't felt anything like this for a long…very long time.
The man in the mask suddenly turned left and for a moment John lost him from his sight. With a curse under his breath, he strode right after the thief and felt encouraged again as he noticed him down the alley.
'Ha! Take that!' John thought triumphantly as the path came to a deadlock. There was now a wall separating the criminal from his freedom and the former soldier in John kicked in, making him run faster.
The 3 meter brick wall though, didn't seem to stop the man at all. In fact it only made him fasten his ministrations too. With the previous hastiness, the thief effectively swung himself over the wall.
'No! No! No!' John could feel disappointment begin to wash over him, as the man was about to slip away from him. Although he never stopped running towards the wall, the chances of him catching the criminal, were close to nil.
Already having a leg and an arm over the wall, the thief seemed to consider jumping to the other side completely or getting down, as he realized that he couldn't break away successfully with one of his hands occupied. However, John was almost there and he couldn't risk being caught. So he did the obvious: dropped the bag and escaped gracefully, leaving a very confused and panting John Watson with a leather bag of stolen goods.
The next day John slept till noon, surprisingly with no nightmares at all. When he awoke he once again had this boldness and cheery mood from yesterday. He hadn't caught the burglar, but it was a sweet distraction nonetheless.
He put on his coat and walked to the front door of his flat, thinking over the events of the day before yet again. That thief was obviously an amateur, from what he could figure out. For who would treat their 'stealings' so carelessly? Truth be told, the whole incident seemed a bit suspicious to John, but he shrugged it off soon after he had returned the bag and seen Angelo's relieved face.
He opened the door before stopping midway. John went through the contents of his pockets and sighed. 'Keys.' He reminded himself and turned away from the door. The bundle of the keys was lying on the cupboard and he was about to grab it, when a dull 'thud' from the doorway made him spin back around.
"Hey!" he called out sharply and hastily walked to the entrance.
The shadow of a man observed him for a while, before quickly started making his way down the stairs.
"Who are…" John trailed off as his eyes finally laid on the familiar object, leaning on one of the handling bars.
"…you..?" he finished lamely and picked up his cane, which had been completely forgotten. John stood there for another few minutes, tracing patterns on the head of the metallic stick and thinking. Then the good doctor, seemed to have finally made a decision. After he once again threw a searching gaze for the mysterious man, he stepped to one of the trash bins and without a second thought, threw the cane away.
AN: I'm not so sure about this chapter, as I was very sleepy while writing it. Was it good? No? Should I continue?