Another chapter for all you readers! The plot is really beginning to follow, and some interesting chapters will be forthcoming! I hope you like it! I'm really enjoying writing this fic at the moment, so I hope it's some good.
It was two days after John had woken up, and finally both he and Sherlock were safely seated in the flat, drinking tea, criticizing TV, and reading the newspaper. So far, they were both content to relax, but Sherlock was already growing restless. He had found some amusement in a experiment to do with fingers, or rather, he was doing five different experiments with five different fingers. John had decided to ignore him, favouring this to shooting the wall.
Neither of them had talked about the pool, or Moriarty. John felt extremely uncomfortable with the whole idea, and Sherlock, for once seemed to understand. Maybe he felt the same, maybe not. But John knew that sooner or later, Sherlock would bring it up. And it turned out to be sooner, not later.
It was a cold, blustery morning, rain was in the air. Sherlock was in his dressing gown, huddled over his microscope. John was sitting on the sofa, reading an old, battered book. He suddenly became aware that Sherlock was watching him, a rather uncanny feeling.
"Sherlock?" he asked, without looking up.
Things had been a little awkward between them, neither knowing how to broach the conversation of Moriarty. John was also thinking about what Harry had said, though he didn't believe a word, or course he didn't, something about it made him squirm.
"John, we both know that a little chat might be in order," said Sherlock bluntly. "We'll go to Angelo's for the lunch, and talk."
John swallowed.
"Okay... Will this be about... Him?"
"Yes." said Sherlock shortly.
John had insisted on walking down to Angelo's. It was windy, wet, and overall Sherlock didn't see the point. He had given up sighing though, because John ignored him. He knew John didn't want to talk about Moriarty, but they had to. Moriarty would be planning his next move. And Sherlock thought he had some idea of what it might be.
Soon they were seated in his special place at Angelo's, John leaning against the window, eyes closed. Angelo hadn't gone for the candle, considering it was lunch, something that Sherlock was glad about, things were awkward enough as it was. And the smoke from the candle always clouded his thoughts.
"What do you want?" asked Angelo happily, slapping Sherlock on the shoulder.
"Nothing, what about you, John?" said Sherlock steadily.
John opened his eyes, and glanced at the menu.
"Greek feta cheese roll please." he said, returning to his original position.
Angelo left, and Sherlock watched John intently. He could understand why John didn't want to talk, in a way. But they absolutely had to.
Angelo arrived with the feta cheese thing, and John began to slowly eat. Ignoring Sherlock.
"John. I'm going after him." said Sherlock when John was about halfway through his meal.
"I know."
"You don't have to come."
"I know."
"I'll do whatever it takes."
John looked up and sighed.
"I know Sherlock. I'm not a complete idiot."
Sherlock gave a half shrug, earning a slight glare from John.
The detective couldn't understand his flatmate. 'I know' wasn't a very helpful piece of data. Did that mean John wouldn't help him? Or, would he come along. Or even, try to stop him. Sherlock didn't know, and he felt slightly uneasy.
John finished, and they sat in silence for a long while. Sherlock watching John out the corner of his eye. Angelo cleared the plate, and still neither of them moved. Finally Sherlock got bored of trying to read John's face, and stood.
"Come on, let's get back to the flat." he said, dragging John upright, and hauling him out of the restaurant. John followed without question, eyes glazed over. He was obviously thinking. But what about, Sherlock couldn't tell.
A good twenty minutes later, they were both in the flat again. John sipping a cup of tea, and Sherlock trying not to watch him. He had to let John decide on his own. But he really did wish he would hurry up.
"I can't get him out of my head." said John suddenly.
Sherlock jerked into a sitting position. Watching him intently with bright grey eyes.
"I just... He's going to do something else... I can tell." said John, chewing his lip.
"I'll stop him." said Sherlock calmly.
John looked at him properly for the first time that day. Examining him closely. There was a long pause.
"When do we start?"
Sherlock's heart bounded at the word 'we'. He had resigned himself to the fact that John didn't want to have any more part in Moriarty related adventures. Now, he was proved wrong. And actually pleased about it. Though he wouldn't admit it, he liked having John around. Some sanity in an insane world.
John gave a chuckle at Sherlock's slightly confused expression.
"You thought I wouldn't help?" he asked, grinning.
Sherlock nodded sheepishly.
"For a genius, you can be an idiot a lot of the time." said John, rolling his eyes.
The next day, they were down a Scotland Yard, waiting for Lestrade. He had asked Sherlock to come down and talk about Moriarty.
Lestrade's office door opened, and he silently beckoned them in. Sherlock rose, stepping lightly in, followed by John.
"Good to see you both alive." said Lestrade, shutting the door and gesturing at two chairs.
"Yes, all very nice. Do you have any data?" asked Sherlock snappily.
"Okay, okay. Just trying to make some small talk." Lestrade huffed.
Sherlock's lip curled, but he stayed silent.
"Right," Lestrade sat down, gave John a smile before turning to a folder on his desk. "Moriarty has left very little evidence in his wake. Almost everything we know about him is from these past cases. We do think he was involved a few other cases, before this."
Sherlock nodded, pressing his finger tips together. His liquid silver eyes fixed intently on Lestrade.
"Erm. Our main concern is to find out where Moriarty is now..." Lestrade trailed off, and shook his head. "Why am I bothering exactly? You already know more than I do. Just, if you get any leads, tell me, okay."
"Wise decision Lestrade. I'll inform you of any developments." said Sherlock, lips twitching.
Lestrade sighed, shrugging, and picked up a thick file, flipping through it's pages.
"What's that?" asked Sherlock sharply, reaching forward and snatching it.
"Sherlock! Nothing to do with Moriarty. Just a suicide." snapped Lestrade, trying to rip it from Sherlock's grip.
Sherlock frowned, flipping through the pages, totally ignoring Lestrade's angry tirade.
John gently patted his arm.
"Sherlock, I think you've got enough to be getting on with, right?"
"W- Oh alright It's only a suicide I suppose." said Sherlock, flinging the fikle back at Lestrade and standing. "Why do cases come in groups?" he asked the world in general as he stalked out the office.
"Nice to see he's back to normal." said Lestrade with a deep breath, picking up the folder and placing it carefully on his desk.
"Yeah. If you get any news on Moriarty, just say. We'll need all the information we can."
Lestrade nodded, and John followed Sherlock out his office.
Nothing very exciting, but the next one should be better. I hope your enjoying! Please review, I'm desperate for opinions.