An hour or so after he got up, Sherlock rapped on John's door.
It flew open as if John had been anxiously waiting for him. At a glance, Sherlock noticed John's tufted hair, newly pronounced limp and his ramrod tight military bearing.
"Whatever is the matter, John?" Sherlock frowned.
John's eyes widened when he saw him, and he unconsciously touched his own eye.
"Sherlock. You're hurt. Again."
Sherlock winced. He had completely forgotten about the black eye the drunk had managed to land.
John waved him in commandingly, and as Sherlock perched on the chair with his knees up, John went again to find his medical bag.
"What happened this time?" He emerged from the other room with another piece of meat and another wet flannel. "Two beatings in as many days is unlikely for normal people."
"You should see the other fellow." Sherlock replied with utmost truth, wincing as the wet cloth gently eased away the blood.
"I'm being serious, Sherlock." John regarded him with concern. "Was it the same man as last time?"
"No. Handsy customer." If Sherlock hadn't been paying magnifying glass levels of concentration, he would have missed the flash of possessiveness on John's face.
"I see." John said, carefully dabbing an ointment on the bruise. "Who shall I call on to challenge to a duel?" Again, Sherlock would have mistaken that for humor had he not been watching.
"Again, John, I can take care of myself."
"Forgive me if I don't believe you right now. You're one tall bruise. I'll burn through all my crimson painting these cuts." Something shifted across John's face. Sherlock might warn him that he was too easy to read eventually, but for now it was useful.
"Say, you don't happen to be acquainted with one MH, do you?"
Mycroft. The meddling bastard. What in god's name was he doing with John?
"I might. Tall, poncy fellow?"
"That's the one. We had an, ah, illuminating conversation yesterday. Your name came up."
"He offered you a not insignificant sum of money to spy on me." Sherlock said with certainty you could bend steel bars over.
John inclined his head slightly. "Yes. I refused."
"Pity. You could have taken it and we could have split it. Think it through next time."
John loosed a genuine smile at this, and Sherlock relaxed a bit. He still needed a cover story, however.
"I do hope he didn't kidnap you. He has a flair for the dramatic."
"Ah, well, he did, actually. Nice carriage he's got, though."
Sherlock ruminated briefly. He needed to have serious words with Mycroft. He could not be allowed to break his cover. He needed this disguise to stay intact. Rumor spread through Paris like syphilis through an army unit, and he couldn't risk losing the in this disguise gave him.
"That gentleman and I were once more deeply, one might say intimately, acquainted than we are now. As it rests, we are no longer friends." Sherlock answered the unspoken question deliberately. He chose his words carefully, in order to speak nothing but the truth, but let conclusions be easy to jump to. John's hand tightened briefly on the handle of his medic's bag, but his reply was even.
"I didn't much care for the fellow. I'm glad you've discontinued the acquaintance. One more thing before we pose. Did you happen to see le Figaro this morning?"
Sherlock shook his head mutely. He had better things to do than read the news.
"There was an article in it about a man who they call le Boucher. Apparently he hunts and kills… men like yourself."
"Tall? Observant?" a sardonic eyebrow quirk.
"Not exactly." John flushed slightly. This was the first time he'd brought up Sherlock's assumed trade. "Lorettes."
Sherlock's eyes widened and his lips narrowed. How had the press gotten ahold of this? They had been so discreet in their investigation, had bribed the discoverers of the corpses to hold their tongues. He was going to murder Lestrade for speaking to the press about this. Lestrade probably had a motive like 'warn all possible victims so there would be no more murders' or something equally frivolous.
John mistook Sherlock's sudden flash of rage for fear.
"I wouldn't worry though," he hastened to reassure him. "The head detective said that he had put his very best man on the case."
Now that was unexpected. Perhaps Sherlock would save his tongue lashing of Lestrade for another day.
"Sherlock…" John started, brow furrowed. Oh god, the man had an idea.
"Mm?"
"This may be awfully forward, but I can't help but ask. It seems we could both stand to benefit from an exchange of services." Sherlock raised both eyebrows now, but John steamrollered on.
"You may recall that I am in need of a muse. You are in need of safety, it seems. Perhaps a different place of residence. One with a trained protector for when you get attacked tomorrow."
Sherlock licked his lips unconsciously.
A protector. What about that unexpected, seemingly accidental word choice warmed him? This was a far better idea than he'd anticipated of the man.
It could be very useful to have John on his side as more than an artist, and the change of scene would do him good. His squalid rooms were not as convenient or clean as John's tidy rooms.
He made up his mind to ignore the logical voice that said he wasn't really in need of protection or new rooms, he was contemplating sharing a flat with the little man to satisfy his curiosity about him. He buried deeper the truth that it could be more than idle curiosity that prompted him to willingly share living quarters and risk discovery to be closer to John.
"Yes, right, you're a doctor and a soldier. Any good?" He said to stall for time.
A flash of quiet confidence and determination that had Sherlock unconsciously licking his lips again. "Very."
Right. Well. Sherlock nodded slowly. "I accept your offer. I'll model for you during the day and at night, you'll accompany me if I feel that I'll be in danger." Thinking quickly, he left himself an out. "Until this arrangement proves no longer beneficial."
A dazzling smile rose on John's face. "You've got yourself a deal, monsieur. Go, pack your things. Bring them here. The address is two two one B Baker Street."
Sorry this is late guys. Break is a lovely time to A) do nothing B) stay out with friends all the time and C) get writers block. Short chapter here but more is written and coming as soon as I get back in touch with my lovely beta!
At least they're moving in together, things will start to pick up from here!