The market in the square was just as lively as ever people selling their wares and people buying.
The shop keepers children running around playing nameless games.
Steve could stay there for hours with pen and paper to try and capture the beauty he saw in it, but then again not everyone saw things the way he did, he could pick out the smallest details of beauty in even the largest of problems.
Perhaps that was from his childhood, he never really thought about it before.
He stopped to purchase a pound of flour like he promised Mrs. Hudson then continued to look at each vender he didn't have any use for anything so it was really just for fun.
He did buy a new set of charcoal pencils but he had been meaning to get those his were basically nubs, not good for detail work and his new inspiration was full of small details.
When he turned back for 221B it was into the afternoon so to avoid most pedestrians he took the back streets.
It was scary how he was more at home there than on the main roads.
Then again maybe it wasn't, the streets were like a second home even though he'd still yet to find a first.
Deep in thought he almost didn't see the movement from the corner of his eye, but he did and he was thankful he did as he turned and saw a familure sweep of dark brown hair.
He ran after the three grunts that were carrying a mostly cautious bound and now easily recognizable Sherlock to some undisclosed probably murderous location.
The first to notice Steve was the one on Sherlock's left, he was met with a cheap power house to the jaw, making him drop Sherlock, whenever goon 2 and 3 turned toured Steve good 2 dropped Sherlock completely which was his mistake because the man turned over and drove a foot into his groin.
That just left number three, reaching in his bag as he approached he pulled out the bag of flour and with a silent apology to Mrs. Hudson smacked him in the face with it making the bag explode on one end.
The cloud of white power was enough to distract the man long enough Steve could spin around and plant a well-aimed foot into the underside of the man's jaw.
Steve knew it wasn't enough to keep him down but it was more than enough to keep him and his friends distracted as he graved Sherlock hauling him to his feet and started pulling and running.
"good to see you old boy, but tell me, do you know where you're going?" Steve pressed his lips together "more than you do" he turned a sharp corner into what appeared to be a dead end with a wooden plank fence glancing back once he pushed aside two planks exactly 7 from the left and shoved Sherlock into what was on the other side.
Stepped through as well into an abandoned alleyway in some disrepair he lead Sherlock a little further then stepped into a partly demolished abandoned building.
Only once they were out of sight did Steve bend over and draw in a large gasping breath "I'd say, I think you need to exercise more often" straitening Steve looked at the man and frowned "I have the impression that the longer I live in the same residence as you Mr. Holmes, I will get more than the lions share"
Walking over Steve untied Sherlock's arms from the ropes that bound him up to his elbows.
Then he walked over to the gaping hole in the building watching for a moment "I think it's safe to leave" he said after a minute or two "just let me rest a moment longer" Sherlock said drawing him from his observations.
He turned back toured the man who was slumped back on a piece of wall that fell what seemed like life time's ago and he observed the man, he did look worst for the wear, the beginning of dark bruises appearing on his cheek and under his eye.
Before he could ask his question Sherlock beat him to it "how did you know this place was here?" he smiled sadly at the man brushing some dirt off a nearby rock and settled down himself "I told you I grew up close to baker street, in your observation of me when we first met you said I most likely had rich parents"
Steve leaned forward and steeple his fingers "you were correct but only partly, my mother who came to linden from Ireland, died of child birth, my father a few years later of a fever, I was sent to an orphanage than was overburdened where I remained for a year before I went to the streets"
Rubbing his hands together he looked toured a far corner seeing his younger self playing or drawing, saw himself take shelter under what little roof remained on the structure.
"until I was in my 18th year these streets were my home, I believe I know them even better than you" Sherlock snorted to himself "I doubt that"
Steve rose a brow at the man and smirked a dimple appearing in his cheek "oh really? Somehow you didn't know about this place" he made a hand gesture off to the left "or the ones on sprig street and elm"
Sherlock blinked at him "I am beginning to find you most annoying" he said calmly and now Steve smiled outright "you will get used to it"
When he turned away to once again look outside Sherlock made a face at his back before resting his head against the wall, he was getting to old for this.
"so tell me Sherlock" he finally broke the silence that had settled and looked at the man "why were those goons carting you away?" Sherlock shifted and pushed himself up from his seat "the world's most inept detective inquired about a recent murder and requested I solve the case"
Steve's brows rose in question but he stayed silent so the man might continue "the notes and descriptions were unsatisfactory so I arrived at the scene of the crime" he seemed to be building up to some great description but Steve crossed his arms "but you walked into someone trying to destroy evidence, so they decided to take out two birds with one well-placed stone?"
Sherlock turned his head frowning "or thereabouts" he said and turned away "well did you learn anything useful from putting yourself in that situation, alone"
"nothing that was made apparent before they appeared, if they did not return to finish destroying the evidence perhaps I shall go back"
Steve took off his hat and pushed back his hair scratching his crown then returned his eyes to the detective "I am starting to believe, Mr. Holmes, that you are self-destructive"
The man rose his brows at Steve who rose one of his own in challenge "how am I self-destructive? I'm to intelligent" Steve rose a hand fingers curled to prop up his cheek "tell that to your face, detective" he teased Holmes turned away lips pursed "a minor miscalculation"
Steve shook his head before placing his hat back in its place "one that very well could have ended with you dead, the odds of which were drastically raised by going alone"
The soon to be argument was interrupted by a wall of old rotten wood being broken down by for mentioned goons "found em!" he slurred making Steve relised he was the one that got a foot to the jaw, apparently he bit his tongue.
Of course now the goons that came in were more than the original three, now there were six.
Steve backed up slightly placing his left foot slightly in front of his right leather in his gloves creaking quietly "you take the left I take the right?"
"bloody good plan" Sherlock said sarcastically Steve's return quip was lost by the goons charging them.
Steve was never trained to fight, but he had been raised on the streets and that meant he knew how to fight dirty, and how to take down an opponent as fast as possible.
Of course his opponents had never been this big before but better late than never right?
The first man to mean him smelled like soured milk and his swing was clumsy a quick duck sidestep and blow to the kidneys knocked him out, thus was the price paid for extensive heavy drinking.
Turning to his last two opponents his artist eyes caught the glimmer of a knife being pulled by number two, number one didn't bother and simply charged with 2 close at his back.
Steve side stepped the lunge and ducked below the knife but the third man who apparently wasn't as heavy a drinker as Steve had hoped swung forward and graved him around the middle pinning his arms to his sides.
Letting out a cry he struggled kicking his feet as he was lifted off the ground.
Then when he was lowered just a little he used it to his advantage using the slight momentum from the move he managed to get soured milk to almost put him down by disrupting his center of gravity.
He was just low enough to slam the heel of his shoe into his shin, it didn't do much other than make him stumble and loosen his arms but that was what he wanted, he yanked out his left arm and dropped a little ramming his elbow into the man's already abused kidney.
That made the man loose his breath and stumble but Steve didn't relent to many street instincts taking over he jammed his first two knuckles into the back of soured milks hand making his cry out and stumble again then Steve graved the corresponding fingers and yanked as he pivoted and drove his foot into his throat collapsing his wind pipe.
He herd gravel being disturbed behind him and dropped into a crouch without thinking avoiding the knife aimed at his back the sloppy move left his middle exposed and Steve shoved his shoulder up into his belly.
Number two went down coughing from the air being knocked out of him and curled up holding his ribs, Steve might have broken one with that attack.
He didn't have time to grave the knife because number one tackled him to the ground sitting on his hips and started to try and punch him, he raised his arms to guard his face but he was becoming tired he wasn't as young as he used to be.
The attacker shoved away Steve's arms then two large meaty hands wrapped around his throat he graved at the man's wrists pulling and clawing as his skin but to no avail.
His hands tightened around his throat cutting off his air and Steve gasped mouth open his face was beginning to tingle he threw out his left hand reaching for something and then felt cold metal.
He cut his fingers as he grasped at the metal making his grip slick but strong enough for what he needed.
The man's hands squeezed once tight before going slack.
Steve shoved the man off gasping and coughing raggedly yanking the knife out of his chest hearing it scrape his breast bone he turned over and saw Sherlock down his second opponent with efficient and sharp movements.
He didn't see the third "Sherlock!" he shouted as the man graved him and swung him around, he herd something hit the wall and saw the man pull out a gun.
Without thinking he threw the knife and watched in slow motion as it turned end over end and then sunk into the back of the man's throat.
He fell over the side of the wall.
Pushing himself up and forward Steve ran to where Sherlock was half on the ground half against the wall "Holmes? Holmes, Sherlock?" Steve touched his face and then his throat feeling the steady trump of his pulse.
A line of red dripped down his face from his now matted dark hair.
"quite a throw old boy" Steve let out a breath of relief when he saw Sherlock squint at him "good lord" Steve complained slumping back into the dirt on the floor "do all your new house mates have to do this?"
The man's lips quirked and he groaned slightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall "you shall become use to it Mr. rowan"
Steve rubbed his throat "I doubt that Mr. Holmes" then he pushed himself to his feet with a grunt "we should probably head back to baker street before we run into any more trouble"
Sherlock nodded "yes of course, just, let me rest here a moment" Steve was about to make a joke about his age when a scuffling noise from behind him made them both freeze up.
Turning around slowly Steve scanned the area but other than the softly groaning uncontiose bodies and the dead ones nothing seemed to move.
Until a white sheet in the corner twitched.
Furrowing his brow as to what it might be Steve approached slowly and peeked behind the curtain.
What he saw broke his heart.
In what looked like a den made of scrap papers and cloths a dog was curled up head lulled to the side, from the shrinking of the skin it had been dead a couple of days.
The ribs were showing but the dog had clear signs of pregnancy.
Pushing the sheet away further he found what he feared, three puppy's either still born or killed shortly after birth laid with their mother.
But what had made it the cloth move? A part of the curtain still not touched let out a small pitiful whine and he reached out, slowly and gently pulling it away.
What greeted him beneath was somehow even more heart breaking than the dead mother and puppy's, in a small space it had burrowed out another puppy laid on its side obviously waiting to die.
"what have you found?" Sherlock questioned obviously anxious, apparently Steve had made a sound while looking at the pitiful creature.
Reaching down with a not so bloody hand he picked up the puppy with its obvious ribs and lifted it into the curve of his arm, it let out a pitiful whine before laying its head on his sleeve settling into the warmth.
Standing slowly and turning he tried not to disturb the dog "I should have suspected" Steve glanced up at Sherlock who had his head leaned against the wall, turned slightly and looking at Steve from the corner of his eye.
Then his eyes closed and he fell silent "Sherlock?" he nudged the man's shoulder a couple of times and then he sighed when he didn't rouse "damn it Holmes" he murmured but it was strangely fond.
Laying the puppy in Sherlock's lap for a moment he removed his bag and layered the inside with a jacket off the less bloody of the goons.
When he looked back Sherlock's arm had moved creating a kind of wall for the puppy so it wouldn't slide off, he couldn't hold in his smile as he picked the puppy up and placed it into the nest he created with the coat and then draped it over his shoulder making sure it wouldn't slip off.
Then he looked at Sherlock still out cold and sighed, if he knew this was part of living with the man he would have kept looking.
-
By the time Steve arrived at 221 baker street the sun was well on its way down making the overcast sky glow orange in places.
He was carrying Sherlock over his shoulder and had long stopped noticing the ache in his muscles, Mrs. Hudson opened the door possibly expecting to yell at them, she didn't expect him to be carrying her original tenant like a rag doll.
"good lord what happened?" he stepped inside and walked toured Sherlock's bedroom "I would guess nothing out of the ordinary for his work day"
Walking through the door Mrs. Hudson opened he shifted and set the man down on his bed "should I call a doctor?" she asked Steve shook his head "no I just need a bowl of warm water and a rag, and can you answer a question for me Mrs. Hudson?"
The woman raised her chin slightly in curiosity "do you know if we have any baby bottles?"