THE WALK

Sherlock sat on the edge of the sofa. The weight on his shoulders seemed to have lightened slightly and he was damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of it. He was dressed and ready. Ready for what exactly he wasn't certain but he knew that he would do something today. He looked to his watch; 7:38. John would be up soon.

Surely enough, two minutes later Sherlock heard the click of John's door and his foot-steps padded in thick socks down the hall. His steps were slow but regular.

John's jaw dropped and emotions flashed across his face. Sherlock noted he was wearing an old pair of jeans and an old t-shirt with the words 'Joy Division' in large white letters against a monochrome background. He hadn't shaved for two days but he had showered late last night.

'Sh-Sherlock?'

'John.'

'But… what are you doing up?'

'We should do something.'

'Something?'

'Yes, what do you suggest?'

John pushed his hand through his hair and when he removed it, it stuck up at an odd angle.

'I err-'

'What about a walk?'

John was astounded by Sherlock's enthusiasm not just because of how he had seemed to have rapidly entered a 'good patch' but also because Sherlock had never asked John to go for a walk before. Walks were boring.

'Not with you.'

Damn. It seemed Sherlock's supposed mind-reading powers had returned.

Yep, I'm back. Sherlock thought to himself. However, he couldn't help think that any person with an average intelligence could have seen the thoughts written all over John's face. Now he was thinking but then-

'OK!'

John's face broke into a wide smile and he grinned at Sherlock, his eyes crinkled and Sherlock smiled back. This was OK. It was going OK.

It was a fresh and bright day in London. The streets were empty as it was still before rush hour and the city looked like it would on any other day. There was nothing special about the grey pavements or the litter around every corner but to John, it was special. This was a big step for Sherlock especially as he was the one who had suggested it. He knew this was only a break in the clouds of depression but he still couldn't keep the smile off his face.

Sherlock kept close to John and it was John who took charge of their route. He kept to the side streets which he knew were comfortable and familiar for Sherlock and it meant they could keep away from the building traffic.

After half an hour in the city, the cold was getting to Sherlock and he shivered. John felt him and he took Sherlock's hand in his and pulled him tighter into his warmth. Sherlock smiled into his scarf and they walked in silence for another two hours, often round in circles and up and down the streets.

'Do you want to eat?'

John jumped at the chance of food, he'd been starving for the last hour so they found a small café and sat in the corner at a small circular table with metal chairs which squeaked as John dragged one from the other side of the room.

'What do you want, Sherlock?'

'Oh, just tea.'

'Wait I thought you wanted to eat?'

'No, you wanted to eat.'

John was about to say something but then just smiled, walked up to the counter and asked for two teas and a plate of toast. He waited until it was ready picking up a jam jar from a selection of condiments and then paid the woman at the till. He took the tray and turned around to see Sherlock staring intently at him. Sherlock quickly looked away and pretended to study the laminated menu until John walked up.

'Enjoying the view Sherlock?' John jested.

'What?'

'Oh, nothing.'

After sitting and talking a while in the café, the two of them left and started to make their way home. They talked the whole way home, not about anything in particular and normally Sherlock would find this casual banter pointless but, not today. Not with John. He formulated witty jokes just to hear John's laugh which was as pure and beautiful as a five year old's and just as brilliant as a serial suicide case. He made observations of people walking down the street because he knew John would like that too.

'That woman there; three young children, two dogs and… divorced. She works in retail and she's planning on quitting today but she won't.'

John laughed 'Oh yes and why is that?'

'Well, look at her all of her clothes are new, new haircut, new manicure and…' he sniffed the air 'new perfume. She can't afford to lose that job.'

'I guess she does have three kids to feed.'

'Oh no it's not that, she couldn't care less about the kids, she just couldn't do without the staff discount.'

When they reached home they found Mrs Hudson pacing the hallway. As they entered she clasped her hands together in a mixture of frustration and relief. She rushed up before John had even closed the door behind them.

'Goodness Sherlock, are you OK? Are you sure you should be going out? John, I thought you were looking after him?'

'Mrs Hudson, I'm fine.'

'But surely you shouldn't be going out, it's far too cold anyway, you must be free-'

'Mrs Hudson' Sherlock walked over to wear she was standing, her shoulders were heaving and her breath was irregular. He put one of his slender arms around her and she sniffled into his coat. He dug his nose into her hair and breathed in deeply. She smelt of home. 'It's OK'

'I know I fuss too much I just-'

'Mrs Hudson, it's OK'

'I know I-'

'It's OK'