Chapter twooooo! I'm really happy about how fast I wrote this.
It's slightly shorter than the other, I think, but I didn't feel like I had as much to say with John. He was harder than I thought he would be to write, but I got through it!
Oh, and to all the British people reading this, and maybe just British language lovers, I am not English, so I'm not too sure about your slang. I found out just a couple weeks ago that the word pants meant underwear in Britain! Anyway, what I'm getting at, if anything doesn't make sense, or would be better with a different British word, please tell me! Please, it would be so helpful!
Thanks for everyone who Reviewed, Alerted and Favourited this story! A great response already! And I answered unsigned reviews at the bottom. I don't know how long I'll be doing that, but because you're the first amazing ones, I had to!
John P.O.V
He was as amazing as I expected. I read his website after Greg mentioned him, and I couldn't help but be immediately intrigued by him. The entire idea of Sherlock Holmes was intriguing. I wanted to meet him, and when I finally did, he did not disappoint. And I didn't just think that because he looked amazing in that coat… That was just a small portion of it. Who would look good in a coat like that except him? Well, him and Jack Harkness.
My thoughts were filled of him as I hobbled away from the crime scene. I kept my eyes open for a pink suitcase, pink because, well she had to match. I tried to not let my thoughts of Sherlock Holmes get in the way of finding a very important aspect of this case. I couldn't mess up, not when he went out of his way to invite me. I was hoping for that too, since I was trying so hard to impress him while we looked at the body.
I was surprised that I got as much as I did about the woman. I'm not as clever as Sherlock, I just watch a lot crime shows and do the puzzles in the daily paper.
"Need a ride?" A cab pulled up next to me, window down exposing an older man. His smile showed his crooked teeth, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't his teeth that make my stomach do flip-flops.
"No, thanks," I refused as graciously as possible, walking away from the cabbie, to an alley as quickly as I could with my lame leg.
"You sure?" He called, over to me. I felt guilty about my gut feeling about him, but not only did I not need a ride, but I wouldn't have got in the cab with him in the first place.
"Positive, but thanks." I yelled back before slipping into the narrow alley. He didn't follow, which was a relief. There were smaller dumpsters lined along the walls of this alleyway, meaning I didn't have to jump into any of them. That was beneficial, because my leg wasn't the best for climbing, but that wasn't going to stop me from jumping at the chance of working with Sherlock Holmes.
I didn't have to look for long. I had just finished checking each of those dumpsters when my phone vibrated. Found it. Meet me 221B Baker St. -SH. I was surprised he actually texted me, and gave me his address. I was prepared to be discarded by the famous Sherlock Holmes unless I found the case. From what Lestrade told me that sounded like something he would do.
I hurried to the main road, where I caught a cab, which was, thankfully, not driven by the man that had given me the willies. Arriving at Baker Street in about ten minutes, the traffic pretty light for a Friday night, I paid the driver, and made my way the door marked 221B.
I was buzzed up and made my way slowly up into Sherlock's flat. I found, said man, going through the contents of the pink suitcase, not even acknowledging my existence as I stood in the doorway, taking off my jacket, revealing my favourite wool jumper. Not that I expected anything different. He was busy.
"Find anything?" I asked, decided to break the silence.
"It's what I haven't found which is important. Come here, tell me what's missing." He motioned me over with his overly boney hand. This man needed to eat something.
I dug around the stuff, mostly clothing inside the bag, while Sherlock flopped himself on the couch. "I see what she's not missing. Look at these." I held up one of the many lacy thongs that were packed. "Classy." But what did I expect this woman to bring to meet one of the men she was cheating on her husband with.
"Catch!" I pulled one side of the scandalous underwear back and flicked it towards Sherlock, hitting him on the nicely chiselled cheekbone.
He let out a sound that was very similar to a squeal, knocking the article to the floor. "That's disgusting! You don't know if that was cleaned." He whined, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, as if removing any sort of diseases that it might have carried.
"Oh, don't be such a baby," I laughed, picking up the thong and placing it back in the bag.
"Let's just get back to the case…" He huffed, wiping his cheek as he spoke. I was a little worried I had actually upset him, but I didn't have a lot of time to think it over, because another people made their appearance at that moment.
"Sherlock, you have a guest and you didn't even offer refreshments! It's a good thing I'm here!" An exuberant older woman exclaimed as she entered the flat without knocking. She was carrying a tray with a tea kettle and some biscuits, and since Sherlock didn't move from the couch, I took from her. It was an awkward task since I had to lean my cane against my hip to take the tray in both hand, then maneuver the tray, without spilling anything, onto my one hand and elbow so I could use my cane to make it toward coffee table. I only dropped on biscuit, which the woman was nice enough to pick up for me.
And that's what I got from being a waiter through high school. I looked towards Sherlock, waiting for some sort of introduction. He, eventually, got the message. "Mrs. Hudson, this is John. John this is Mrs. Hudson."
I held out my hand, having to introduce myself, since Sherlock was apparently was not the best in social situations. "Hello, ma'am, I'm Dr. John Watson, Sherlock's friend." It might have been a bit early to introduce myself as his friend, and by the way his eyes flashed towards me Sherlock thought so too, but I couldn't call myself a colleague or something of that caliber.
"Just Mrs. Hudson, please, I'm Sherlock's landlady," She grinned back at me. "And you're a doctor? You snagged yourself a doctor Sherlock?"
"I didn't 'snag' anything." Sherlock scoffed, and began riffling through the case again. I don't think he really understood what she meant.
"Oh, no, we're just friends. Actually, we just met a couple of hours ago." I corrected her, snatching one of the cookies she had brought us.
"Well, Sherlock is a very nice young man, you should really consider it."
"It's not that, but as if I could get myself a man like Sherlock." I chuckled, knowing Sherlock could hear me, but he would probably just think I was joking. I really wasn't.
"I could put in a good word or two with him." She was really pushing this.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled, slapping the arm of the couch. "I'm thankful for the tea, but do not try and play matchmaker again." Again? "John is just a colleague who probably doesn't appreciate you trying to push a relationship that will never happen on him."
I tried to ignore how much that hurt. I understood that I didn't measure of what Sherlock wanted in a partner, but what was really wrong with me? Was it just gender, or did I have some terrible quality I didn't know about?
There was a loud ringing from down the stairs. "Oh, there's the phone, probably the florist. I've been waiting for them to call for over an hour now." A relieved looking Mrs. Hudson scurried off, out of the flat, leaving me alone with Sherlock.
"Phone," I repeated, mulling the word over in my mind. "Where's her phone?" I finally got it. She was an adulteress, a woman in the modern day, and by the state of most of her belonging, she wasn't lacking in the financial department, so of course she would have a phone. "It wasn't on the body, so where is it?"
"That, is exactly what I'm wondering. Now, be a dear and pour me some tea, no sugar and just a dash of milk." I did, probably because I didn't want to discuss the conversation that Mrs. Hudson and I just had. I didn't want to go anywhere near it. Sherlock having something to do with his mouth would probably help keep us away from that topic.
I sat on one of the chairs opposite to the couch, the one that wasn't being occupied by what looked like a human hand and a rabbit in a cage. "Is that a human…?" I trailed off, waving at the cage with my own hand.
"Yes, yes, it is," Sherlock nodded, completely nonchalant about having a human hand in his living room.
"Why?" I couldn't help but ask as I sipped my tea.
"It's for an experiment, and before you ask, the results are inconclusive." I was going to probe for more information, but thought it best that I didn't know.
"So where did you find the case?" I just wanted him to continue speaking, but he didn't seem like he was about to contribute to the conversation, unless I posed a question for him.
"It was just around the corner. I knew it would be close, it was pink." I gave him a blank look. Why did the colour matter? I was a bit ashamed I couldn't figure that out, because form the look he gave me, he thought I would have too. "The murder couldn't have been seen with a pink case, so had to dump it quickly."
"Fantastic!" This man really was as smart as I heard.
"You said that quite loudly, even though it's just the two of us."
"Sorry, I'll stop that." I turned my head, embarrassed.
"No, no, it's okay. Just fine." He didn't want to stay on that topic for long. "Oh, and thank you for your help finding the case, even though in the end I didn't really need it."
It sounded like he was thanking me, in the most discourteous way possible. "Oh, it was nothing. I found a very nice jumper in one of the dumpsters." Sherlock glanced down at the jumper I currently wore, appalled by it. "I didn't keep it!" I quickly explained, setting down my tea to shake my hands in front of myself. "I just checked the tags, which were left on, so I know where I can pick one up. Who would throw out a perfectly good jumper?" Now that thought was disgusting.
"I think we can see Lestrade tomorrow about the phone. They would be very busy at the Yard with paperwork, and I don't want to get mixed up with that," He stated, ignoring my question and me overall as he sent off texts on his phone.
"Oh, sounds good," I agreed, blowing some air out of between my teeth, I grabbed my cane. "I guess I should get going if you don't need me." As much as I dreaded it, he couldn't want me around anymore.
"Sally should be with Anderson's, correct?" I didn't need to answer that, he already knew. "The thought of going back to that must be nauseating, so I propose you stay here tonight." Stay in Sherlock Holmes flat. With Sherlock Holmes. In his flat. I might have had a mini aneurism as I processed his offer.
"Stay here?" I had to check to make sure I understood what he said.
"Yes, there's a spare bedroom upstairs, and in the morning you can run to Anderson's for new clothes and whatnot, before coming back so we can have an early start. It seems like the most logical option to me." A spare bedroom, now I understood. The place my mine went was completely different than what he was actually proposing.
"That sounds great!" I agree, probably with too much enthusiasm from the way Sherlock smirked. "I mean, it sounds a whole bloody lot better than hearing Sally faking her orgasms and Dim screaming 'Yes!' every couple seconds in that annoying voice he has."
"Yes, 'a whole bloody lot' better," His nose scrunched up while he smiled, and I couldn't help but think about how adorable that was, and wonder what faces he made when he… I forced myself to stop thinking about that. I couldn't have perverted thoughts about the man that just saved me from a night of watching the weather channel. No matter how adorable he was, or how nice his hair looked. Or how much I wanted to rip that incredible jacket off him.
"You also saved me from another cab ride. I'm not made of money. There is a reason I'm living with Dim. Of course, I'm searching for a place." That made his head snap up away from his phone towards me.
"I'm out at all hours of the night; sometimes I don't sleep at all. I might not talk for days when I have something on my mind. I play the violin when I'm thinking and I don't clean or make my own tea. Any of that bother you?" He raised his eyebrows. I hoped I knew where he was going or else I would be making a fool of myself.
"I'm a gay, war veteran with a limp that has nothing to do with the bullet wound in my shoulder. I have way too more jumpers than a man my age should own. I'm sociable and sexually active man, so I do have relations with other men." I stopped for a moment, before adding. "And I would expect to be involved in your cases, even just as an assistant. That bother you?" I challenged back.
"When would you like to move in?"
"As soon as possible."
"Tomorrow?"
"Sounds great."
Yes… I definitely threw a Torchwood reference in there, just because I could.
Jessssticle- Thank you so much! Saying that you think I did a good job with Sherlock is great for my confidence!
MagicLock- I thought a slightly cleverer John would be fun to play with. Thank you for the review!
Aset- Thanks for kind words, but I'm not too sure what you mean by the name.
Alice- I'm definitely going to be writing more. Thanks for the review! :)
Thanks again everyone, and remember: reviews make me write faster! Well that and fast beat songs that I can type to.