Trois Mousquetaires Parte Deux

You didn't need to finish, I solved the case before you started describing the other half of the room," Sherlock faced him," John. If I can solve a case without knowing the majority of the scene that lays at my feet, then what might you deduce as the reason for my success? I'll leave you to ponder that."

He smiled cryptically then continued softly, "I solves cases for a living John, now it's your turn. Solve it and you'll understand everything perfectly."

With those final words, Sherlock latched on to his anchor and followed the doctor out to the circle of officers milling around. Lestrade walked in sync with Sherlock's deliberate steps casting sideways glances at John, the two holding an entire conversation with their eyes. Lestade knew the answer, but wouldn't say.

Concluding everything related to the case, Sherlock and John bid the Yarders goodbye and accepted Lestrade's offer to drive them back to the flat.

All the while, John turned over Sherlock's cryptic words over and over in his mind.

What does that man mean!? I don't know what he says half the time because he rambles so fast and the other half of the time I can't follow his train of scattered thoughts. He said, 'If I can solve a case without knowing the majority of the scene that lays at my feet, then what might you deduce as the reason for my success? I'll leave you to ponder that.'

What does he want me to do? Figure out how he solves a case with his eyes shut? He did that already, countless of times on those "dull old unsolved" cases Greg would bring over to stave off his boredom. We worked out a system long ago when he first received his diagnosis, it's a good system. I observed the details of the scene, Lestrade read the reports, and he conjures up the answers with that massive (sometimes egotistical) intellect of his.

I just don't understand how he can actually accurately describe something that he can't actually see or know even exists because I haven't told him about it yet, let alone figure out the motive and criminal before I've finished talking. I'd tell him again, but his head is already puffed out enough. He really is just simply amazing, to connect all the dots that no one else could accomplish.

"Sherlock," John tapped the man's arm, "Will you tell me? What's the reason to your success?"

"No."

He simply said "no" and looked out the window, didn't provide any explanation, and just denied his friend the answer to the simple question.

"Why not? Come on, tell me please? That's your job to solve cases, I don't do that sort of stuff." John pressed the man for information, hoping to receive more than just one word answers.

"Wrong. It's OUR job to solve cases. We do 'that stuff'. You've an intelligent brain John, use it. The answer isn't as elusive as you think it is. Don't make it complex, it's not so."

Poking the good detective inspector on the shoulder from his seat behind the driver side, Sherlock warned, " and don't give him hints Lestrade."

"Won't breathe a word of it, promise Sherlock," he reassured glancing through the rear-view mirror to watch the man's satisfied expression.

"This really isn't fair, Greg! Why are you taking his side?" jabbing his finger at his currently annoying best friend, "How could YOU possibly know the answer to his ambiguous comment about solving cases without actually knowing the crime scene? Did he let you in on this 'little case' to test me?"

"Nah. Not a test mate," Lestrade talked to John through the rear-view mirror, "Like Sherlock said, don't make it complex. The answer is staring you in the face. Think about it. I'll say no more on the subject."

"Fine. Be that way, both of you." John glared out the window for the duration of their ride.

Insufferable fools, making me riled up about some silly brain-teaser. I'll get them to slip up soon enough and tell me the answer. After all, they both said the answer was simple enough.

The three trudged up the flight of stairs and each flopped on their respective pieces of furniture, Lestrade taking the sofa.

"Thanks for the lift mate, care for a cuppa?" John stood up immediately after he sat down.

"Sure, why not. I've got time now the case is done thanks to you two." He followed John to the kitchen and started looking for tea making supplies.

Meanwhile Sherlock hastily announced he would bring back Chinese take-away dinner, and not to do anything unintelligent while he was away, with the latter comment directed to Greg about dropping hints.

"Ok, thanks! Same to you, don't do anything unintelligent! See you soon," John answered as Sherlock skipped lightheartedly down the last few steps and straight out the front door.

Donning the beloved Belstaff coat and pulling out his white cane, Sherlock boldly sauntered off to the restaurant a few streets away.

John smiled to himself, he felt like a fool for doing so, but in truth the reason for the smile was far from a foolish one.

"What's got you so worked up now?" Greg prompted taking in John's happy expression whilst setting the kettle to boil.

The doctor was so engrossed in his reverie that Greg had to tap three times for his attention. "Sorry, what?" he answered without thinking.

"You sound like Sherlock now when he decides to un-zone himself out from the world," Greg commented remembering John's exact words to the consulting detective from earlier at the crime scene.

"Oh, yea...very bad habit," bowing his head in shame, "His fault. I learnt it from him. Working on not doing that. Sorry, didn't mean to be rude. I missed your question, please repeat."

"I said, 'What are you smiling about, thought of something pleasant? I want to know what that was."

"Oh that," John leant against the counter top and crossed his arms, a little laugh escaping his lips before he contained, "Well, it's nothing really. Just that whenever, I see Sherlock go anywhere, I'm reminded of what things were like before they reached this point," he gestured to Sherlock's chair, "You saw him waltz out there in one fluid movement. He wasn't like that months ago, remember?"

Greg nodded solemnly, reliving the memories of frequent times he dropped by the flat for supper and Sherlock insisted on gluing himself to "His" chair all night.

"Yes, he didn't like moving, much less going out places. He only went where you went, insisted you stay right at his side for his every waking moment outside the flat. However, that really hasn't changed, you know, he still prefers your companionship over anyone else."

"My point exactly, he wouldn't leave my side, now now he does, like now for example. Whenever I see him so self-assured I remember he wasn't like that. It just brought back a happy thought to the day he announced his request to go somewhere alone. He left in the same manner he did just now. Buttoned up his Belstaff, whipped out that white cane, and waltzed right out the door without a single hesitant step in his stride."

"And I remember the day," Greg added without missing a beat, "Sherlock marched into the Yard with the cane in hand and not latched on to you. You," he said pointedly, "couldn't keep that Cheshire-grin off your face all day."

John ducked his head and slight looked embarrassed at Greg remembering that particular detail, "Yea, I was just really proud of him for finally not needing me any more. I mean, he still prefers to take my elbow if we're in on a crowded street, or in some rickety old abandoned house as the crime scene, more for safety precaution than anything else, but generally speaking he likes his independence. I wouldn't ever want to be a hindrance to him."

Unexpectedly a hand reached out and clamped on to John's shoulder, thankfully the uninjured one. It startled the man so much that his head jerked up in confusion, not realising fully what had just occurred.

With a perplexed look, John opened his mouth to ask why he was being gripped so tightly, but Greg merely held up his hand to let the question die on his lips, his mouth still gaping open like a fish out on land.

His face did not show his usual calm and pleasant state of mind, rather it almost looked sad, like some one had deeply offended him.

"John," he at last spoke in a very tender voice, one the doctor had never heard him use before at all,"perhaps you are the blind one. Not Sherlock. Why can you not see what is clearly laid out in front of you? Give me one solid reason you think you're a hindrance to Sherlock's independence, and heaven forbid, unwanted by that man?"

Greg could see the mental gears in John's head fall of their axles from being jolted to a sudden halt with such a loaded question.

Unable to provide a single word of disagreement John resigned to closing his mouth, thus which the wiser and older man continued, "Now do you understand why Sherlock said 'the answer isn't as elusive as you think it is?'

Trying to comprehend then entire dialogue, John nodded slowly but still didn't really see the answer clearly.

The shrill whistle of the kettle broke the stiff ambiance.

Not a moment after the tea was poured, Sherlock came in the same fashion he had left, waltzing right into the sitting room arms loaded with multiple take-away container. Deftly avoiding the edge of the rug and the sharp table corner, he deposited the parcels on the kitchen counter and greeted his friends.

"I'm pleased to see you two didn't do anything outrageously unintelligent during my brief absence," then held up a box of chicken fried rice, "Starving?"

Thanking for commenting!

TBC. Full author's note following last part of LTM. "Watching Over Each Other" will be updated after part 3 has been posted.