"Excuse me?" S H prompted, "Why have you cursed at me?"
John's face turned even redder.
"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, "You were saying something?"
"This is the place that the note led me to," S H buzzed slowly as though he was talking to an idiot (which he was).
"Right," John said, nodding dumbly, "So let's pop in and have a look, right?"
"Do you not wish to know how I came to this conclusion?" S H said, his nose wrinkling in confusion.
"I've learned with Sherlock, you just have to believe."
"Nope," John said, shoving his hands in his pockets for warmth and starting for the door.
S H cocked his curl-clad head to the side as he watched John walk into the building. He followed slowly, silently cursing his jerky limbs. His infinite intelligence couldn't quite grasp why John believed so easily. He didn't seem to care about the way S H got there, as long as he did get there. That didn't make sense: people are as concerned with the path as the destination. Or so S H's hardware told him. Perhaps his hardware was faulty then? Or perhaps John Watson defied the norm?
"Looks pretty empty to me," John said as S H entered the building, "Doesn't look like anyone's been here in months. Well, wait. This is fresh."
John crouched in the middle of the room, his hand hovering above the floor. S H stepped over quickly and peered over John's shoulder. John was looking down at a splatter of blood. The pattern was concurrent with that of a quick stab to the abdomen. S H knelt down next to John, scanning over the blood.
"About a week old," they spoke simultaneously.
S H looked up in surprise and John raised an eyebrow at him.
"I'm a doctor," John stated, "And I was in the military. Don't look so surprised."
S H felt his face lift and it took him a few seconds to process that he was smiling lightly.
"I like when you smile," John commented, "Lights up your face quite nicely. Your brother said that he got you a week ago. Perhaps you were actually here at some point. Huh. I just thought of something. Do you have blood? If you do, this could be your blood."
S H brushed his fingers against his side.
"Not my blood," he said, "I've not been stabbed."
"Still, do you have blood?" John repeated, "That's kind of an important thing to know."
S H looked in the doctor's eyes for a moment.
"I do not know," he finally said in a quiet voice.
John's eyebrows furrowed. Then his hand came up and gripped S H's wrist.
"Well, you've got a pulse," John remarked, "If that makes any difference. It could be an artificial pulse. Hmm. Well, let's see then."
John pulled his hand away and reached inside his coat. A moment later he produced a blood sugar monitor. He took S H's hand and pricked it lightly. S H winced slightly and scarlet blood rushed to the tiny hole. John pressed the strip to the blood and pulled a cotton ball out. He pressed the cotton to the tiny wound and watched the machine. S H observed the routine, medical, yet caring way John tended to the situation.
"Well, you've got blood," John commented as the machine beeped, "And low blood sugars. You ought to eat something."
"I do not think I need to eat," S H stated.
John rolled his eyes and put away the little machine. He stood and dusted off his jeans.
"I think you do," John said in a rather commanding tone, "If you've got blood and blood sugar, which means you've got other parts in there that are human. And more often than not, human parts need food. So up you get."
He offered out a hand to S H who stared at it curiously for a moment before taking it. John hoisted him up and looked about the room, as though suddenly remembering where they were.
"You need to look around some more?" John questioned.
"I do not think I shall find anything worthwhile," S H said, scanning the room briefly, "I believe the Creator will find me when he wants to be known."
Something inside of S H twisted at that.
"So you're a cyborg then?" John said, proud that he knew the correct word.
S H paused in his hailing of a cab to look at John.
"I suppose I would be," he said thoughtfully, "Part human, part robot."
"See?" John said, smiling triumphantly, "I told you that you were a he!"
S H frowned at him and went back to hailing the cab. John was rather pleased with the discovery. He wondered how much of S H was human. Which parts were human and which were robotic? Clearly his brain was robotic, how else could he be so clever? And his heart had to be human, right? Or could a robotic heart pump blood the same way? Clearly he had a pancreas in there somewhere that was human. More than likely his skin was human and if John had to guess, he's say those cold, beautiful eyes were human too.
"Are you curious as to which of my parts are human?" S H asked, snapping John out of his thoughts.
"What? Oh, yes," John answered.
"You were looking over me," S H stated, "Scanning over my skin. You were looking quite intensely."
John blushed and jerked his eyes away.
"I do not know," S H said, "I don't know what is human of me and what is not."
"Well, it's no big deal, right?" John said, shrugging.
S H frowned, a frustrated and confused look decorating his smooth face. John smiled softly at the robot-cyborg, he corrected himself gently. He wasn't really sure what the hell he was doing with the guy, but he found that he wanted to continue doing it.
Little note: I require sustenance (aka reviews). Seriously, if you want to get the next chapter, I gotta hear reviews, cuz the less I hear the less I write. Anyway, thanks for the few of you who have followed and reviewed. Did anyone favorite? I can't remember, but if you did, you are lovely!