Chapter 2

'Oh my God!' John stared at his arm, shocked. The toothbrush, forgotten, slipped from his hand. His first thought was, Sherlock. I knew there was something about him when we met, but this? The second thing was,Wait a minute. I'm not gay! But then he wondered. It had always been difficult for him to stay in relationships with women. None of them ever really lasted. He would start out thinking, Maybe this time, maybe she's the one. And within a few weeks or months, without fail, the whole thing would have fallen apart or he would've lost interest. So maybe… maybe this could be real.

The soulmate tattoos were rare. Only twenty or thirty percent of the population had them. If you were lucky enough to meet your soulmate, a tattoo of their name would appear on your forearm overnight, in irremovable black ink. John had given up long ago on it ever happening for him, but there it was, plain as day. Why Sherlock, though? John asked himself. Now that he thought about it, it almost made sense. Sherlock had seemed to know so much about him right away, as if he could read John's thoughts. And the mystery and eccentricity of his manner certainly was magnetic… So Sherlock is my soulmate, John thought, I wonder if he's seen my name on his arm yet. How am I supposed to act when I see him today? I barely know the man, but apparently I'm supposed to love him. I don't even know if I like him yet! John's thoughts grew more and more panicked until he realized that Sherlock was probably thinking the same thing right now. We'll figure it out together, John decided, We're soulmates. Everything is going to be ok.

John was giddy as he arrived on Baker Street. He had rushed through his morning routine and then, realizing that he still had several hours before he was supposed to meet Sherlock, had gone through it a second time for good measure. He had debated what to wear, finally deciding on his favorite jumper. This was it. Something he'd given up on years ago had finally happened. He'd met his soulmate! Even though he still didn't know much about Sherlock, and didn't even know how he felt about his soulmate being a man, John was excited. He stepped out of his taxi onto the sidewalk outside of 221A. A few moments later, a second taxi pulled up and Sherlock got out. John's face lit up in a wide smile. 'Good morning, Sherlock!' he said.

'Good morning, John,' Sherlock replied, 'Shall we?' He knocked on the door, and John wondered how he could be so nonchalant at a time like this. John himself couldn't help but shake a little. Sherlock turned around. His expression changed slightly and for a moment he looked almost confused. He's finally going to say something, John thought, but when Sherlock opened his mouth all he said was, 'John, what on earth are you wearing?'

John looked down, cheeks burning, worried he had somehow managed to put on his trousers inside out or something. He didn't see anything wrong, so he said, 'This? This is my favorite jumper.'

Sherlock snorted.

'What?' John asked, 'What's wrong with it?' Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but the door to the flat was opened by a kind- faced woman with a warm smile. 'Sherlock!' she said, her voice filled with warmth, 'Come in, you two, come in.'

John followed Sherlock inside. He was confused, why hadn't Sherlock said anything yet? It didn't make sense. He wasn't acting any differently, even though everything had changed. It was almost as if Sherlock didn't know… John wondered if it was possible that Sherlock hadn't seen the tattoo yet. He supposed it was, the man always seemed to wear long sleeves, and if you weren't paying attention… That didn't make any sense though. Sherlock noticed everything.

The woman, whose name was Mrs. Hudson, showed them around the flat. It seemed like a nice place, a bit dusty, more than a bit cluttered, (Sherlock had apparently already moved his things into it, and they were stacked in a rather haphazard fashion all over the flat.) but nice. John had a feeling that he would like it there. They had sat down in the living room, waiting for a cuppa promised by Mrs. Hudson, when a man in a suit jogged up the stairs and into the room. 'Lestrade,' Sherlock said, 'There's been a fourth, I take it. Where?'

'Brixton. Lauriston Gardens,' Lestrade, who John took to be a police inspector, said.

'What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different.'

'You know how they never leave notes?' Lestrade asked.

'Yeah.'

'This one did. Will you come?'

'Who's on forensics?'

'It's Anderson.'

Sherlock made a face. 'Anderson won't work with me,' he said.

'Well, he won't be your assistant.'

'I need an assistant.'

'Will you come?'

'Not in a police car. I'll be right behind.'

'Thank you,' Lestrade said, then he turned and hurried off down the stairs.

'Brilliant!' Sherlock cried, 'Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!' He began putting on his coat and scarf excitedly. 'Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food.'

'I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper,' Mrs Hudson said reproachfully.

'Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!' And with that, he was out the door.

'Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same,' Mrs. Hudson said, turning to John. He was confused for a moment at her implication that he and Sherlock were together. How could she know? he wondered, but brushed it off as coincidence.

'But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell,' Mrs. Hudson continued, 'I'll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg.'

'Damn my leg!' John shouted. For the past few moments since Sherlock had left, a feeling of frustration had been growing in John, and now it exploded from him in a rush of air. 'Sorry, I'm so sorry,' he said, 'It's just sometimes this bloody thing …'

'I understand, dear,' Mrs Hudson said affectionately, 'I've got a hip.'

'Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you,' John said.

'Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper.' Just as Mrs. Hudson disappeared into the kitchen, the door banged open and Sherlock rushed into the room. 'You're a doctor,' he said, 'In fact, you're an Army doctor.'

'Yes,' John said.

'Any good?' Sherlock asked.

'Very good.'

'Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.'

'Mmm, yes.'

'Bit of trouble too, I bet.'

'Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.'

'Wanna see some more?'

'Oh God, yes.' Sherlock grinned, spun on his heel, and ran down the stairs. Without hesitation, John followed him. This is why we're soulmates, he thought, Trouble. We can't get enough of it.