Chapter 21

Sherlock realised John didn't have any intention of leaving any time soon before his wedding day. At the moment he calculated his rate of visual loss would be 100% approximately two weeks before the wedding date. That just wouldn't work; John had to be gone long before The Day of Doom came. It was fast approaching with a running bet in his mind trying to pinpoint the exact date the curse would reveal itself. It was his sword of Damocles looming over his eyes at every moment swaying back and forth violently on the last frazzled thread of the cord ready to plunge into those once vibrant eyes.

A terrible hiss came from the violin brought John out of his reverie, and he sighed. Sherlock was upset, so that poor violin would once again bear the wrath of the violinist. People who no longer had sight could still live an independent life for the most part. Sherlock needed to understand that, but how to show the man that was something John was at a loss for.

At last something turned up and not a day too soon. Really, it couldn't have been better timing than that. Sherlock was perfecting his body fluid explosives experiment, and John was nearly at wits end trying to keep everyone in 221 Baker Street alive. It was all a bit of a blur in how many times John had to rush Mrs. Hudson and the man-child scientist out to the pavement, so as not to die of poisonous fumes because it was someone's brilliant idea to close all the windows and seal up the vents for the experiment. "Death by suffocation is not my preferred choice of going, there are more interesting ways to go," the doctor told Sherlock countless times, but it never registered in the man's intelligent brain.

Sherlock's phone chimed early one morning just after the first cup of tea with delightful words.

Spider Web case. Found a lead. NYS. Lestrade.

Before Sherlock could utter a comment about his phone, John scrambled to his room and changed into a fresh set of clothes, beating his flatmate down stairs before he realised his mistake. Stairs were only a small trouble for Sherlock now, but they would become so as the time went on.

It had happened a couple times in the recent past where a misjudged distance caused his footing to slide and crashed into the doctor, who thankfully was paying attention so caught them from both hitting the front door.

John rushed up the steps and waited by the banister for Sherlock to tie up his scarf and flip up the collar the on that blasted coat. How could he stand to wear it no matter the season!? As much as I love my knit jumpers, I refuse to wear it in the middle of summer. I have common sense…unlike some people that I know of.

"Let's go!" the consulting detective called out following the doctor cautiously down the steps into the waiting arms of Mrs. Hudson. She hugged, kissed her boys, and bid them best wishes for the case. "Solve the case and come home in one piece!" the duo heard Mother Hen say as the cabbie pulled into the morning traffic.

Once again the two strode into NYS catching the curious eyes of all the officers there, especially Donovan's and Anderson's. Neither person was particularly fond of those two; they weren't the friendliest of the bunch. John understood when Sherlock would demand for anyone but those two; however, that hardly ever happened. Those two were rarely seen without Lestrade nearby. "Suppose it is hard to cooperate with others constantly insulting him whilst working on the crime scene," John mused trailing after the eager man.

"What is it Lestrade? Has the spider finally shown itself, or is it just another one of its sacrificial flies cowering in the corner?" Sherlock demanded striding in and hit the corner of the desk with his hip, but he wasn't thrown off a beat in impatiently questioning the detective inspector.

Lestrade and John shot a concerned glance to each other. "Have a look for yourself. Here are some photographs. They're being interrogated now. Arrested them jsut now for very suspicious activity around the same building we caught the Three Stooges. John, come have a look at this, will you? It's more your area of medical expertise." Lestrade answered and returned to read the current case file.

Sherlock again hit the desk as he stormed off to grill the blundering fools caught up in the Spider's Web. He had a fairly good idea who was behind all this, but it was wise to never assume unless all the facts are present.

Glancing behind his shoulder, John walked over to look at whatever Lestrade wanted him to see, but he knew it was just a code for something else.

"That'll leave a nice bruise on him, it was a hard hit. We've probably got ten minutes tops before he gets back, and that includes a conversation purely dedicated to insulting Anderson again," John whispered to Lestrade whilst pretending to be looking at the file. Lestrade nodded and pointed to a random spot on the paper as if to legitimise their discussion on something complete irrelevant to it.

Without beating around the bush Lestrade spoke into the file, "How's he holding up? How about you? It must be stressful living with him and his fiery temper tantrums. Should I stop calling on him for cases? He really can't go on like this much longer, can he? Like now for example."

John suppressed a snigger and smiled, "Just being around the man is stressful no matter the situation. I'm sure Anderson would be the first to proclaim that loudly. His mood swings are worse than a person diagnosed with the disorder. Can't say neither are at fault though, they tempt each other to retaliate with some interesting insults".

He paused sneaking a glance at the door, Sherlock wasn't coming. Good.

The cheerfulness disappeared and instead a sad smile coated the doctor's expression as he continued. "In all seriousness, our call was a much needed relief. He's been trying to kill every living thing in 221 with that horrid experiment. I've lost count how many times I have come home to a dreadful stench fuming out to the pavement from the cracks in the front door. Aside from his usual reckless behaviour I don't know much else about him. He refuses to talks about it, which is understandable, but I don't think he can keep this up this bluff much longer. Going out on to crime scenes have always been dangerous, even more so now. It's quite depressing this is. I feel awful for him and there's really not much anyone can do to help him, except help him to accept it and face the change."

Lestrade gave an understanding nod. Just as John said, this was very bad for the consulting detective. It didn't matter that Lestrade would have unsolved cases piling up once Sherlock stopped working with NYS. He was more concerned about his son. He thought of the consulting detective as his near kin after scraping him off the terrible life he lived. Before working with NYS his life was filled with nothing but chemistry experiments and taking drugs. Lestrad had helped the man change entirely, well mostly, aside from chemistry experiments and the thrill of feeling 'high'. At least the 'high' feeling came from solving crimes not drugs...how will he even function once he can no longer be at crime scenes?

A-N:

Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I do enjoy them.

As a side note, I don't write long chapters because for me reading long chapters makes my eyes hurt from scrolling and scrolling, so each chapter will be no more than about 2000 words.