Chapter Eight: New Beginnings

AN: So this is set four months after the Doctor's visit and after John has decided to finally adopt Harriet. John will meet Mike for the first time in years and finally get to meet his future flatmate :) Oh and for the purpose of the video, John is the one who moves into Baker Street first, Sherlock just deduces that fact ;) And yes, John and Harriet do get on in this story, but John just doesn't want to get under her feet xxxx

"Harry, are you sure you're okay to take care of her?" John asks cautiously, looking his sister over.

"Yes, John. Listen, you want to get in some more hours at the clinic so that you have some more money. It's alright. Me and Clara can look after Harriet while you're gone. Now, go, you're going to be late."

"Alright. Thanks, Harry. I appreciate this so much."

"I know. Now, go." Harry replies, hugging her brother tightly.

"See ya later." John smiles, walking down the road.

He walks through the park at a wobbly pace, but it's better than using the bloody cane, even if months of neglecting it has left his leg in worse shape.

"John. John Watson." A voice calls from behind him.

John turns around to see a man standing up from the bench he just passed.

"Mike Stamford. We worked at Bart's together."

"Yeah, hey Mike." John smiles, holding a hand out to shake.

"I heard you were off getting shot at somewhere. What happened?"

"Got shot." John laughs humourlessly.

Mike looks guilty for a minute before speaking, "Shall we get a coffee?"

"Yeah, why not?"

x..x

They're sat on the bench Mike had previously occupied, when he starts to speak, "So, other than getting shot, how've you been?"

"Good, yeah. I, um, I adopted a little girl, her name's Harriet. She's at my sister's while I do my next shift."

"Wow, you have been busy. No girlfriend in the picture then?"

"Yeah, right. An invalided ex army doctor, not exactly boyfriend material, am I?"

"Well. So, where you living then?"

"A small little flat. I want a new one though. It's too small for me and Harry. I was looking at that Baker Street one but, it looks expensive."

"You could get a flat share or something." Mike offers, looking over at his friend.

"C'mon. Who'd want me for a flatmate?"

"Mm." Mike replies, quirking an eyebrow.

"What?" John asks curiously, looking at his friend.

"Well you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Who's the first?"

"Come with me."

John gives Mike a quizzical look before standing up and following his friend, he should probably ring work and tell them he's gonna be late.

x..x

John follows Mike into Bart's hospital and then through another door into one of the labs.

"Bit different from my day." The army doctor comments, looking around the room that has changed so much.

A younger man is hunched over a desk apparently engrossed in an experiment but looks up as John speaks.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asks as he stands, looking John up and down.

"Sorry?"

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you—" John asks, leaning against the work station.

"How do you feel about the violin?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"Are you—? You told him about me?"

"Not a word."

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" John asks, looking between the stranger and Mike.

"I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. And now he's brought you. He knows I'm not the most sociable person, in actual fact, I don't like to talk to anyone, unlike you. Mike obviously thinks you can balance out my lack of social niceties. You've clearly been home from military service in Afghanistan in the past six months and you've just adopted a daughter, so you need a bigger place. Wasn't a difficult leap." The man replies with a smile.

"How did you know about Afghanistan? And how did you know about the adoption?"

"You've got your eye on a Baker Street. Well, together we ought to be able to afford it. We can meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash."

"Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat."

"Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't even know your name. And I have a little girl to consider." John replies, looking at the man curiously.

"I know you were an army doctor and were invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for a place to stay because you don't want to feel like a burden—possibly because he was an alcoholic, more likely because he recently had a child. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. And I know that you're still concerned about not being good enough for your daughter, probably because she came from a broken home and you want to protect her. I'm sure you're doing a suitable job raising her by yourself and that a change of scenery would help her better. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name's Sherlock Holmes and I'll see you at 221B Baker Street, tomorrow, seven o'clock. Afternoon." Sherlock smiles before heading for the door.

"Is he …" John starts to ask but Mike interrupts him.

"Yeah. He's always like that." He replies with a smile.

"God, what have I got myself into?"

Mike just pats his shoulder lightly and grins.

"Shit, I should be a work right now. I've gotta go, Mike. Thanks for the coffee." John says in a rush, stumbling out of the door.

x..x

"Hey, love." John greets with a tired smile, hugging Harriet tightly.

"Hey, Daddy. Rough day at work?" Harriet asks softly, poking her father's furrowed brow.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it was. I met a very weird man today. He wants us to look at that flat in Central London tomorrow."

"Are we going to?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. It couldn't hurt to take a look. And, that way, you'd be able to stay at home and play with your toys. We could even invite Caden round to give your Aunty Harry and Aunty Clara some chill time."

"If you think it's a good idea then okay." Harriet smiles, before starting to pack up her toys.

"Good. Alright, Harry, we're gonna get off. I'll see ya later, yeah."

"Alright then, little bro. Have fun looking at the flat."

"What have I told you about eves-dropping?" John chuckles, nudging his sister's shoulder.

"Yeah, well. Gotta look out for my little brother. And if this guy tries anything, I've got a shovel and a big back garden." Harry grins as she walks them to the door.

"Ha, no. I'm sure we'll be fine, Harry."

"Offer's open."

"Yeah, I know."

x..x

The Next Evening

"Well, this is a nice place." John comments with a smile.

"Yes, I agree."

"Could do with clearing out all this mess though." John says, taking in the numerous boxes and piles of paper.

"Oh, I suppose I could tidy up a bit." Sherlock replies sheepishly, looking around the messy living room.

"So, this is your stuff?"

"Yes."

"Right." John nods before falling silent.

"Ah, we have a visitor." Sherlock announces after a few awkward moments of silence.

"This is my daughter, Harriet. Come on, Harry." John says gently, as the little girl peaks her head around the door.

"Hello, Harriet. I'm Sherlock. Nice to meet you." Sherlock replies with a smile.

Harriet looks down at the floor and then back at John; who just smiles softly at his daughter.

"Come on, sweetheart." John adds, holding his hand out for the little girl as he sits down.

She walks over to John and climbs into his lap, snuggling down into her father.

"So, how old is she?" Sherlock asks awkwardly, waving a hand at Harriet.

"Seven. But she's very bright for her age, aren't you? She started school a month ago. Her teacher says she loves to read, don't you, sweetheart?"

Harriet nods nervously, eyeing Sherlock suspiciously as the detective observes her carefully.

"I tell you what, love, why don't you look upstairs at the other room. Go on." John says softly, trying to dispel the awkward tension.

"Will you read me the story after, Daddy?" Harriet asks as she's heading to the door.

"You've heard it so many times, love. Don't you want a new story?"

Harriet shakes her head and replies, "It's my favourite. About the man who solves crimes and he's a genius. It's a good story, Sherlock. Maybe Daddy will tell it to you too." Harriet replies with a smile, addressing the young genius for the first time since they entered the flat.

"Mm, maybe." Sherlock replies as Harriet wanders off, "A detective who solves crimes and is a genius. It sounds like you've been stalking me."

"No, I swear, I haven't. It's just … no, you'll think I need locking up. It's mad really. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Why don't you find out?" Sherlock replies, sitting down in the chair across from John's.

"Well, it's just … after I came home from Afghanistan, I … well, I sort of had dreams. Except I didn't realise they were dreams, I thought it was all real. It's embarrassing really."

"You suffer from PTSD. I believe that a side effect of it is loneliness and isolation. Now, he interesting point is, what did you dream about?" Sherlock asks with a smirk.

"Well, I dreamt about us. I mean, about crime solving and chasing criminals. I guess I must have seen your name somewhere and imagined you were here with me. It was almost like I had a purpose."

"You still could. I mean, I don't usually work well with anyone but … you're different. Interesting. It's quit puzzling really. You're just an ordinary man but you seem so … complicated."

"Um, thanks?"

"Oh, it was definitely a compliment, John."

"The things you dreamt about, they're true. I solve crimes for a living. I'm a consulting detective. I have a habit of getting myself hurt a lot, having a doctor around could be very useful."

"Alright, then. Of course, someone will have to take care of Harry."

"I'm sure Mrs Hudson could manage that. She likes to take care of things. Especially delicate, fragile things."

"Like you, ya mean?" John grins, looking up at Sherlock through his eye lashes.

"Nonsense, I'm not delicate nor fragile." Sherlock spits, glaring at John.

"Skinny as a bloody rake though." John chuckles, nudging Sherlock's knee with his own.

Sherlock flinches and stares down at his knee as though he's never seen it before.

"Oh, you don't have a phobia of contact do you? Sorry, I didn't realise." John apologises, blushing with embarrassment.

"No. I just … Never mind."

"It's alright if you do, mate. It's not a problem."

"No, I … I felt a shock that's all. Like static."

"Ah, so we've definitely got chemistry then." John jokes, nudging Sherlock's knee again.

"Um, John, are you … by any chance, flirting with me?" Sherlock asks awkwardly, looking up at the older man.

"No, it was a joke. I was messing with ya."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Never mind. I'm going to unpack." Sherlock replies, standing up and heading towards his bedroom.

"Sherlock, wait. Just … let me try something, please. I know we've only just met but … please."

"Alright."

John rests a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, leans on his tip toes and presses his lips to the younger man's.

Sherlock feels that little shock again but it's immediately followed by something else.

"Oh." Sherlock actually squeaks, breaking the kiss.

"Good 'oh' or ..."

"I'm not sure. Um, perhaps we could go again so that I can gather some more data?"

"Sure." John grins, leaning up to kiss Sherlock again and lifting his other hand to cup Sherlock's head.

"Um, wow. That's very … interesting."

"Yeah, it is." John smiles, stepping back from Sherlock, "Well, I'm going to set my stuff up too and see how Harry's doing. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

"Of course." Sherlock murmurs, finally gathering his wits about him.

The doctor is very interesting, indeed.