The walk home was cold.
After walking out on Sherlock's rude remarks and off-putting personality, I hadn't been able to find Mike and discovered that I had left my mobile at my apartment. All-in-all, it had not been a very pleasant post-concert experience.
What could make a man as bitter as Sherlock? He had seemed to be so open and harmless on stage when he was singing, and yet the minute he walked off it was like a wall had come down and shut him off from the rest of the world.
I also thought about the things he had noticed about me: an Afghanistan veteran, single. How had he been able to know those things? I would have thought he was psychic, if I believed in that sort of thing. It just seemed so improbable that someone as genius as Sherlock was with songwriting could be so bitter.
Shaking my head, I tried not to think of the man I had had the misfortune of meeting face-to-face. It would have been better if I could have not spoken to him and never known what an asshole he really was.
I sighed, and continued on my way home. There was no use dwelling on it. There was next to no chance I would ever see him again anyway. All I wanted right now was to go home, and cuddle with Mary.
I shivered in the cool night air, and hugged my jacket closer. I could see the lamp post that signaled the beginning of Baker street... And home. I gave a small smile at the thought of curling up with a good book in a cozy jumper by the gas fireplace.
The building was tall, covered in brick and creamy-grey slabs of stone held in place with mortar. On the top of the door were simple brass numbers that read 221B. Below that was the familiar knocker that only guests bothered to use.
When I got inside the decor was just as I remembered, a nice homey feeling, like my grandmother had decorated the entire building. The floor was wood, and the wallpaper was a soothing dark green. Mrs. Hudson insisted that green was a calming color and made jokes that the color was useful when she was dealing with irritating rentors or doing laundry.
I wondered if Mrs Hudson was awake, only to have it answered when the woman came flittering out of the kitchen.
"Oh, dear, what were you doing out so late? Best not make a habit of it dear; everyone needs their beauty sleep," she gave a cheeky and knowing smile "some more than others."
"Hullo, Mrs. Hudson. Apologies, Mike dragged me off to go see a band he likes, name of Baker Street, actually. Wonder where he came up with the name..." I trailed off, thinking once more about the pale jackass. Apparently nobody was letting him get out of my head.
"Indeed. Well, best get yourself off to bed then, since you had a late night. Good night dear," Mrs. Hudson said, turning around and heading back to the kitchen to finish the washing up.
I silently agreed, and headed up the stairs to my flat. I could barely afford it, but Mrs. Hudson sometimes did me favours like letting me pay late or knocking off 50 quid if she knew things were tight. She was a good lady, and I loved her like I loved my own mum.
I sighed when I made it to my flat. It was just as I left it, neat military organization, everything in its proper place. Then Mary came running and threw herself into my arms.
"Hey, girl! How have you been?" I asked her as she nuzzled into my chest.
She gave a loud woof in reply, and proceeded to clean my face of any microscopic pieces of food that might be left. Mary was my beautiful Belgian Tervuren. Light golden blond fur tickled my palms and her dark brown muzzle found its way against my chest.
I sighed with contentment as I pushed Mary off myself and walked over to my recliner. The familiar cushion sank beneath my weight with the ease of something done many times before. I leaned my head back, my arm hanging over the arm rest and absently petting Mary's head.
I thought about getting up and making myself a cup of tea, but I suddenly felt bone tired. There was zero desire in me to get up from my current position.
My thoughts drifted to my run in with Sherlock. He seemed like such a prick, but I got the feeling that that wasn't the whole story. He seemed aloof in the way that meant he had something to hide, not rude out of pure spite, though I was sure he wasn't all that impressed by the people he was surrounded by.
I got the feeling that Sherlock was too smart for his own good. He had one of those auras, one that screamed he thought he was better than everybody else. If Lestrade was anything to go by, he often snapped and deduced things about people. My therapist would call it a defense mechanism to protect himself from other people because of some childhood trauma. I just thought he needed someone to dumb him down and put him in his place. One of those blokes in a constant state of tetchiness.
"Tch. That man needs to be knocked down a few pegs." I grumbled, finally mustering the strength to heave myself out of my chair. I shuffled to my room, shedding my shirt with a grunt of pain. My shoulder still got phantom pains from when I had been shot 6 months ago. My therapist insisted it was PTSD, but the pain was definitely real to me.
My shoes were toed off and kicked to the side, and I tugged my jeans down my legs, leaving me in my pants. Face first, I dramatically flopped onto my bed with a sigh, cozying into the cool sheets. Mary trotted up to the bed and leaped onto it. I pushed her to the side as I crawled into the proper position, sinking into my plain white sheets.
"Damn, I'm shattered..." I moaned. "That's the last time I'm ever agreeing to go with Mike ever again."
Finally, laying face down, my eyelids began to close. Mary snuggled closer to me, her cold nose sending shivers down my spine. At last, I fell asleep.
Hello one and all! Sorry for the hiatus, I was suffering a bit of writers block and on top of that I was super busy. But the chapter's up, so enjoy it. I'm going on vacation for 3 weeks, so I'll definitely be writing, but I may or may not post anything. it depends on... Actually my even writing depends on if they have wifi. But oh well, I'll do my best.
Sorry if the chapter seemed a little bit unfulfilling as I said, I was having writers block, and wanted to give you guys a little bit more on what John was thinking. Hope you don't mind TOO much... I tried. i really did. oh well.
well, Aaron out, then.