Let it never be said that John Watson did not know his trade. He may have been a soldier, but he was always a doctor first. Just some things were not his area of expertise. He's not a gynecologist. He was trained as a surgeon primarily. Mycroft was surprisingly agreeable to sending a doctor over with some equipment and John was amenable to letting them use his room for the time being. It was sparse, warm, and clean. The equipment he did not recognize all of, though, and that, along with the strange silence from within the room was making him nervous. The only reason Sofia was at all comfortable with going in was that John had agreed to stay outside the door, and she could yell for him if she needed him, or felt uncomfortable in any way. But this only made the man anxious and then confused about him being anxious. He stops outside the door and sighs, rubbing his forehead. Maybe he should try and look at this like Sherlock might look at a problem.

Problem was, he didn't have enough facts. Right. No conclusions can be drawn without the proper facts. That means he would just have to wait until he had all the proper facts. He sighed, flexing his hands at his sides before he resumed his pacing with his straight, determined, military bearing.

Unfortunately that only carries him so far before he pulls out his cell phone, wondering where Sherlock has gotten off to.

Where are you? -JW

Bored? -SH

How do you know this isn't an emergency? -JW

If it was an emergency you would have called. Obviously. -SH

You didn't answer the question. -SH

Yes, I'm bloody bored, alright? You didn't answer my question either. -JW

John felt a little bit of triumph at being able to turn Sherlock's own comments against him.

Sofia's apartment. -SH

What?! Lestrade found it? -JW

John was in a state of shock, and then he felt angry at Sherlock for sneaking off without him again, causing him to jam at his cell phone's keys a little harder.

And you went there without me. -JW

Excellent observation, John. -SH

Her flat burned down. Body was found inside. Police assumed it was Sofia. Everything was lost. Signs of accelerant. Foul play, then. - SH

So she's really got nothing. Nowhere to go. Do you think someone was targeting her? -JW

Likely. This was organized. Could have been her kidnappers, they had her address and access to women of similar body size. -SH

Bloody hell. This is bigger than we thought, Sherlock. -JW

It seems so. Oh, how interesting. -SH

John could almost hear the excitement in Sherlock's text and he sighed a little, looking up at the ceiling in a silent plea for patience, glancing at his closed door as he considered it for a few moments, starting to hear quiet talking inside but not able to hear the words themselves.

What about Sofia? -JW

She'll stay with us, naturally. She'll need clothes. I nicked Mycroft's card the last time I saw him. Could see if that works. -SH

Sherlock, we cannot use Mycroft's money! -JW

Why not? -SH

Because it's not right. -JW

Fine. I'll buy them myself. -SH

John stared at that last text, frowning a little. Surely he couldn't be reading it right. Sherlock was liberal in his use of his money, he told John to take his card once. It wasn't that Sherlock wasn't a generous man. And John was convinced that his family was quite wealthy which is how he could avoid taking money for so many cases. It was just so... odd... to have Sherlock to offer to pay for something like clothes for Sofia.

Maybe we should see if Mrs. Hudson would let her stay in 221C. Would be a bit cramped in 221B with the three of us. -JW

221C is not in a habitable state, don't be an idiot. Sofia did not want to leave the flat. -SH

I noticed. Probably trauma from the kidnapping. -JW

Really, John. Stop stating the obvious. She will be more secure with us, as seen that she was so easily comforted by our presence. -SH

John thought about the morning, the way both he and Sherlock responded to Sofia's obvious distress and how she seemed to calm down with one of them closer to her. He sighed a little. Sherlock was, of course, right. For some reason she latched onto both of them as 'safe'. She wasn't comfortable with Lestrade either, and she was reluctant with the doctor who came in. The only reason she said ok was that he promised to stay outside the room. She was wary of strangers and that was understandable, given what she had just been through. He was surprised that Sherlock noticed it though. He usually wasn't that observant about people's emotional states. Except for the occasional flare of shocking insight. That was it, then. It was just one of those rare times where Sherlock saw the emotions in startling clarity.

Alright. Fine. I see your point. Coming back soon? -JW

On my way. -SH

-oOo-

I was not doing much better than John pacing outside the door. I had to have some rather intimate exams done, and I now understood why John couldn't perform them, but I don't know if I'd ever been so humiliated in my entire life. And it was uncomfortable, painful even. And the doctor was so detached, I couldn't tell if he found anything bad, he wasn't giving me anything. I submitted to the exam though; glad when he finally said that I could go.

When the door opened, John turned toward me with a small smile. "Alright?" he asks nervously as he watched me.

I was putting up a good front but felt rather humiliated at the moment. "Y-yeah..." I finally said, then added, "I'm a bit tired again, would it be ok if I laid down?" I asked hopefully.

John nodded. "Yeah, I'll show you Sherlock's room, you can sleep there for now." he said as he led me back downstairs to Sherlock's room, which was particularly sparse, and he led me over to the bed, patting my shoulder awkwardly. "Just yell if you need anything." he reassured before leaving the room.

I looked around the room, taking everything in as I sat on the edge of the bed, slowly laying down and moving to the middle of the bed. Sherlock's bed smelled different than John's, I noted, but they were both pleasant. I curled up, tears escaping my eyes as I drifted off to sleep.

-oOo-

John looked up from where he was sitting on the couch when Sherlock finally came back into the flat. The doctor had gone already and as Sherlock took a glance around the room, he focused back on John. "Is she asleep?" he guessed as he looked at his flatmate.

John nodded, "Yeah. About half an hour. She seemed kind of stressed after the doctor's visit." he said, then added, "Doctor said that he couldn't detect any long-term damage from the drugs. He took some blood samples to test for HIV and such, but that test won't be back for a while." He was focusing on the coffee table in front of the couch, relaying everything quickly, without Sherlock needing to ask. "If she had been sexually assaulted, the doctor couldn't tell. And it would have had to have been when she was first kidnapped. It wasn't repeated, if it did occur, but the doctor couldn't tell... He did say that Sofia didn't react like a rape victim when he was doing the exam. She was uncomfortable, embarrassed according to him, but reacted more strongly to the needle than the physical exam."

"Of course. She's been drugged repeatedly; she would react more subconsciously to the needle even if she wasn't consciously aware of being drugged at the time." Sherlock said simply, trying to hide his relief over the fact that Sofia was alright. Wait. Relief? Since when did he start feeling such sentiment? John is his only friend, he doesn't know anything about Sofia, and yet he cares for her. Sentiment. This is becoming annoying, and yet a part of him didn't want to push away the possibility of what this may mean.

John nodded again, getting up to make some tea, his default reaction stressful situations. Which was fine, Sherlock could use some tea. "Her flat was burned, but there was accelerant used. It was meticulous, every inch of the flat was burned, every possession destroyed beyond recovery." Sherlock said as he sat down in his chair, folding his hands in front of him in his 'thinking' pose, moving his head up and down slowly so his lips and nose brushed against the side of his index fingers. "The autopsy on the body recovered was shoddy at best. It was obviously not Sofia. I suspect someone was paid off. No proof yet. It could have been the kidnappers, her purse was never recovered, and they had her address. However, that would hint at something slightly more organized than what we originally thought. We have to keep Sofia safe."

John was bringing back the tea and he paused. "Wait - what?" he asked in surprise. "You... you're /concerned/ about Sofia's safety?" He asked in surprise. "You certainly have taken a liking to Sofia." He said with a little chuckle, handing tea to Sherlock, and then sighing when the younger man didn't take it, so he just placed it on the table next to Sherlock's chair, taking his own seat across from the detective.

Sherlock sighs, grunting in acknowledgement. "Unwanted sentiment." He grumbles, confused over it himself, then he adds, "She's stronger than other women would be in her place. She is traumatized, but she is attempting to help, she is..." He trails off, searching for the right word.

"Strong." John supplies easily, taking a sip out of his tea. "I'm not a psychiatrist, but some of her symptoms seem to be a mix between withdrawal and PTSD." he notes, the PTSD note being something he's speaking of from experience, and he knows he doesn't have to point that out for Sherlock to understand.

"Mmm." Sherlock mused, still thinking apparently, not having moved his pose yet. "It's unfortunate that she's gone through so much trauma. In better circumstances she may be the perfect match for you, John." He observed with a slight smirk.

John considered that high praise that came from Sherlock. "She's beautiful, but..." He trailed off, watching Sherlock and smirking. "She's the first person, male or female, you've shown any interest in, Sherlock. No, if the circumstances were better, I wouldn't interfere." he reassured his flatmate, smirking a little.

Sherlock snapped out of his trance-like stare, green-blue, intelligent eyes snapping over to John, brows furrowing a little as if he was trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. "What?" he nearly snapped as he focused on John.

"You heard me, Sherlock." The older man said, sitting back comfortably in his chair. "And I know how much you hate having to repeat yourself. What makes you think I like it any better?" He smirked, glad to have one over on Sherlock in that department.

Eyes were still focused on John though, deducing whether he was lying, what his intentions might be, a small frown coming over his face as he focused. This had to do with emotions, sentiment. This was not his strong point. He knew this, not that he advertised it, but surely even John knew that by now. What did John mean?

As John went about picking up his newspaper and reading, Sherlock closed his eyes finally and descended into his Mind Palace, where he could look over the events of the last two weeks. The case, finding Sofia. Sherlock didn't want to see her go to a hospital or some detox facility, which is one place he had been several times. It would have just increased her trauma to be in someplace like that. No, it was the best decision to bring her back to the flat. John was a doctor, he could easily take care of her, and he was familiar with the symptoms of withdrawal, as was Sherlock obviously. It was a hard thing to watch, the shaking, the sweating and chills, constant trips to the bathroom to dry heave. They didn't leave her alone in the flat, if one of them had to go out, the other would stay. If one of them needed to sleep, the other stayed to watch over Sofia. They became coordinated in a way that only happened during intense crime scenes. They were aware of each other and of Sofia, knowing what was needed with a glance or a motion, or a grunt. Looking back on it now, Sherlock was fascinated, not realizing that he and John could work together so well. At first, Sofia had fought them, thinking they were her captors, until she became more lucid, then she started begging and whining. She didn't even know what she was begging for, probably just for the pain to stop, most of it was incoherent. And then she woke up, and they both became more self-conscious. Sherlock was surprised to find that he was torn between distancing himself from Sofia and wanting to slip back into that easy intimacy. Is that was a relationship was like? Is that what it was supposed to be like, at least, being that close to someone that a word, a touch, could convey so much?

Still, Sherlock found that there was still a sense of intimacy. They were both protective when Lestrade was there questioning Sofia. They both went to her aid during her panic attack. He saw that John was torn between being caring and protective. His Doctor side was in the forefront certainly, making sure that Sofia was alright physically. Sherlock wasn't exactly sure how to approach Sofia. And yet in the bathroom, washing her hair, was one of the most enjoyable moments of the last few weeks. Doing something so simple for someone else, Sherlock had no idea that it could bring himself pleasure as well as helping her.

Sherlock examined this more closely, having created a room in his Mind Palace for Sofia and the feelings in relation to her. What was this? He had gotten used to feeling protective and concerned for John. He had identified those feelings as friendship. John was his best friend, of course he would want to take care of him. But he didn't know Sofia in the same way. She could still be ordinary, she could scream if she saw his experiments. She would leave, as soon as she was better, like all the others, and that would leave it to be just him and John again. So why did that leave him with such a hollow feeling in his chest? It was like looking at a triangle, and then one side suddenly going missing. It frustrated him that he couldn't figure out why he would consider her an almost completion to the dynamic he and John had. No doubt John would figure it out first. He tended to figure out the emotional side of things first.

With a small sigh, Sherlock stepped out of that room of his Mind Palace, shutting the door quietly and moving back to the case. They hadn't gotten everyone involved in the kidnapping and trafficking ring, and if they were the ones that had burned down Sofia's flat, it was an important piece they needed to know.

-oOo-

Ok.. so I decided to post another chapter tonight, because I felt so guilty about the length of the last one. Please let me know what you think!