HOME WORK
Once in the foyer, Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders and bent down slightly so John could look him in the eye. "You're married to a woman, you're having an affair, she finds out, and you kill her. Where would you do it?"
"The bedroom?"
"OH! That's brilliant!" Sherlock let John go and ran through the hallway. He found the master bedroom easily and waited for John to join him. Sherlock glanced around the room quickly. The only things out of place were some missing chunks of carpet. "John, what do you see in here?"
"The obvious - a bed, a dresser…" His voice trailed off as he looked at the floor. "There are strips of carpet missing. That's odd. The receipts and records didn't say anything about interior work. Even if he were going to replace the carpet, he wouldn't have started removing it in the middle like that. Normally, you would start in the corner."
"It's not enough to prove murder, but it is interesting." Sherlock spun around the room. "Why would you cut random pieces of carpet out like that? What did he spill in here?"
"We need to run some tests, look for blood, that sort of thing. For once, it would be nice to have Anderson around."
"Anderson's an idiot," Sherlock snarled.
"He would have some luminol and a black light, wouldn't he?" John challenged the detective.
Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a small spray bottle and a tiny black light. When John looked at him, disbelief written across his features, Sherlock shrugged. "Do I really need to tell you I nicked them off of Anderson a few cases ago?"
"No, I guess not." He took the black light and shone it on the subfloor as Sherlock sprayed the luminol solution. Neither man was surprised when the luminol lit up under the black light.
Sherlock grinned at John. "So, he did do it in the bedroom. If there was enough blood on the floor to justify removing parts of the carpet, there must be more blood in here." He sprayed more of the solution on the walls and it became clear to the two men that the bedroom had been the last place Maggie Jordan was seen alive.
#
Sherlock and John walked across the grounds of the Jordan estate. They were so beautifully kept that it seemed impossible that the couple could maintain them on their own. Why would a couple that could obviously afford to keep a few gardeners on staff rent equipment and try to do the work themselves?
"You're having nightmares, John. What are they about?"
"Do we have to do this now, Sherlock?" John let out a puff of breath. "I really don't want to talk about it."
"You shouted my name. You held my hand. You asked me not to leave. Do you really think I can give this case my full attention when…" Sherlock let his voice trail off.
"When what?" John saw the heavy equipment Walter Jordan had rented and headed in that direction.
"When you are so much more interesting than anything I've ever experienced." Sherlock looked straight ahead as they walked.
John stopped and grabbed Sherlock by the wrist. "You find me interesting? You deduced my entire life in 5 minutes of knowing me based off of my sister's mobile. How the bloody hell can you even think I'm interesting?"
"I've lived with you for over a year and I can't figure you out. Deducing the basics of your life via Harry's phone was easy. Everything else about you…" His voice trailed off while he thought of his next words. "You're very complex, John."
"Thank you, Sherlock." John wasn't sure how to respond to that. "You've been very odd the past two days. Is there something you care to talk about?"
"No." Sherlock's skin was burning where John was touching him. What was going on? He started walking again, John still holding on to his wrist. After a few steps, John let go of him. Sherlock instantly missed the feel of John's hand on him.
"I dream about you, OK? I dream about you dying."
"Why do you dream about me dying?" Sherlock stopped and spun around. John couldn't help but notice how cool it looked when his coat whirled around him. Would he ever stop being impressed by his flatmate?
"Because… we're… partners. Sherlock-and-John. Everyone knows we're inseparable, so what happens when we get separated?"
"I never thought about it."
"I know you haven't. That's not who you are."
"But you think about it. You have nightmares about it. I don't understand why you would worry about it. Death is inevitable. Why worry about something you can't control?"
"I don't know, Sherlock. Because you changed my life and I can't imagine it without you?" John stood still, shocked that he was willing to be so honest for a change. Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. He'd been waiting, no, HOPING, John would say something like that. But why?
"Oh." Sherlock turned back to John. "But I said 'dangerous' and you came. You know what my life is like, what your life has become, and yet you stay."
"Just because I know what it's like to live with you, go on cases with you, and face down death on a daily basis doesn't mean that I'm not afraid on some level of one of us actually dying. I was so alone, Sherlock, and I owe you so much. I'm terrified of losing you." John paused. "Why am I telling you this? You must think I'm an idiot."
"I always think you're an idiot, but then I feel that way about most people." Sherlock smirked. "Yesterday, in the park, we had an argument and I put my arm around you. You played along. Why?" Would John's answer put these weird feelings to rest?
"Because we're not even two people any more. We've become this weird hybrid thing, Sherlock-and-John. Whether or not we're lovers, business partners, or flatmates, we're a couple. I'm tired of fighting it. People are going to think what they want and I just need to accept that."
"I really did lose my blogger. Finding him is much more important than figuring out how Jordan murdered his wife and hid her body."
"You're just saying that." Without thinking about it, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and dragged him off in the direction of the heavy equipment. John pretended not to notice that his fingers were intertwined with Sherlock's. He also pretended not to notice how right it felt to hold the younger man's hand. "I'm still your blogger. I've just evolved. Heterosexuality is boring."
Sherlock, lost in the feeling of John's hand in his, was quiet for a long time before he spoke up. "I do think about you dying. I picture you wearing all that Semtex by the pool and it makes me… uncomfortable. I've tried to delete it, but it won't go away." He looked away from John and mumbled the last sentence. "I don't understand why I can't delete it."
John stopped walking again. He spun Sherlock around until they were face to face. "You can't delete it?" Sherlock shook his head. Unable to vocalize what he was thinking, John wrapped his arms around the detective's waist and rested his head against his chest.
At first, Sherlock stiffened at the touch. Slowly, he melted into the embrace, resting his chin on John's head and tightening his arms around the older man. A flood of emotions threatened to take over his brain. He willed himself to think about the case, but it was a losing battle. As John was fond of saying, this was a bit not good. "People will definitely talk," he whispered.
"They do little else." John broke the hug. "Can we get back to the case? I'd rather continue this away from the garden's hidden security cameras." John turned to face one of the more obvious ones. "Hi, Mycroft! Enjoying the show?" He waved, a huge smile on his face.
Sherlock laughed. "My brother is so… predictable. Come along, John."
The two men continued through the garden at a leisurely pace. Sherlock would stop from time to time and look at different varieties of flowers. He would get so excited that he would regale John with facts upon facts upon facts. Eventually, John would get tired and pull Sherlock along. Every time John saw a camera, he'd wave. There was no doubt in his mind that Mycroft had hijacked the family's security system and he was going to enjoy pissing him off.
JUST REMEMBER I HAVE EYES EVERYWHERE.
INCLUDING 221B BAKER STREET, DOCTOR WATSON. - MYCROFT
IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU SHOULDN'T - JW
"Stop texting my brother. What are you even talking to him about?"
"He's reminding me he can see us. I told him that it wasn't my problem if he saw something he didn't want to see."
Sherlock was quiet for a moment, letting John's words sink in. He wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean. Then, something caught his eye and he ran off like a shot. "JAWN! JAWN! I THINK I'VE FIGURED IT OUT!" He shouted over his shoulder, leaving John to watch as the Belstaff flared out behind him. He loved that damn coat. And, if he were being entirely honest, the man wearing it as well.
John cussed under his breath. He started running after Sherlock and by the time he finished crossing the expansive grounds, the detective was circling a large wood chipper. As he got closer he could see Sherlock spraying more luminol on the chute. He fumbled the black light out of his pocket and immediately proved Sherlock's theory right. There were blood spatters all over the equipment.
"I need a body!" Sherlock paced back and forth. "I need to put a body in the wood chipper! I need to know what it does!"
John shook his head sadly. Sherlock and his weird experiments… even if it would solve the case, he was unsure how likely Sherlock would be able to pull off this particular experiment. He was just about to pull his mobile out to call Mycroft when Sherlock's started ringing. Without even thinking about it, John gave Sherlock a quick pat down and grabbed his phone.
Mycroft didn't wait for John to say anything before charging ahead. "Have you noticed you're out of the range of the cameras? I haven't been able to watch you since Sherlock ran off. What's going on?"
"Sherlock's muttering something about needing a body. We've applied luminol to the floor of the master bedroom and on the wood chipper. There's blood residue on both of them. Hold on." Sherlock was gesturing wildly and shouting. "Sherlock's saying that he killed her in the bedroom, threw her in the freezer in the pantry, used a chainsaw to dismember the frozen corpse and then fed her into the wood chipper. Wait. Sherlock's going off again."
"You need to dredge the pond! The chute has been pointed at the pond now, but it hadn't been earlier. Look. You can see where the wood chips had originally landed. He'd been saving them for mulch. Obvious. A wood chipper. How absolutely, bloody, BRILLIANT! It's almost perfect! Who would have thought to go through all that just to dispose of a body?!"
Mycroft was shouting at John through the phone, but he had completely stopped paying attention when Sherlock started announcing what he'd deduced. By the time Sherlock was done outlining everything, he remembered Mycroft was still on the phone. "Mycroft, get your men here." He disconnected the call before Mycroft could say anything else.
#
Sherlock and John sat in the garden not too far from where Mycroft's men were going over the equipment. "I think about you incessantly, John. I can't figure out what makes you tick. I've built an entire wing in my mind palace to store everything I've learned about you. There's so much more though… like your love of jam and that god awful oatmeal colored jumper… that continue to confuse me." He wanted to tell John about the weird feelings that took over every time he and John touched, but didn't have the words.
John picked up Sherlock's hand and ran his thumb gently over the skin. "Well, now, I'm holding your hand in public. In full view of Mycroft and his search team. I guess I can't keep saying I'm not gay any more. Whether or not I really am has become completely irrelevant."
"Nobody ever believes you in the first place." Sherlock smiled as he grasped John's hand in both of his. He grew serious as he looked down at their hands. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what this is."
"I don't either. I'm not planning to snog you or anything like that, though so you can relax." Sherlock didn't miss the smile that flitted across the Doctor's features. "I miss the simple joy of sitting on a bench holding someone's hand. That feeling of comfort. But I suppose you wouldn't understand that."
"I understand it now." Sherlock shifted so that his leg was brushing against John's. Now that he had experienced it, he realized how starved he'd been for physical contact. "I said that women were not my area, I said I was flattered by your attention, and I said I was married to my Work." He paused, shifting so that he could look into John's dark eyes. "I've paid very little attention to my body. As you know, I barely eat unless you're forcing me to, and I sleep even less than I eat. If I am successful at ignoring the two most important needs of my body, you must be able to imagine how easy it would be to remain celibate."
"Do I make you… Are you…"
"Not now." Mycroft was heading towards them. He couldn't give Sherlock a body to run through the wood chipper today no matter how well he was connected, but maybe he'd set it up so Sherlock could run an experiment with a different wood chipper just for fun. "How close was I, Mycroft?"
"I have enough evidence to ensure Mr. Jordan doesn't leave his lodgings tonight." He looked down at the men's seated position. "I have a car ready to take you back to London. I don't suggest getting frisky in my car."
Sherlock stood up tall and looked his brother in the eye. "I assure you, Mycroft, that we will not be getting frisky." Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's shoulders. "John is not gay." John fell against him, a smile on his face.
Mycroft opened his mouth to say something, but the sight of John cuddling up to Sherlock surprised him so much that he found himself at a loss for words.