A/N Graphic description of a dead person,
The shop was small. In fact it was the smallest shop John had ever seen. The sign was small, the door was small and the clothes looked huge even though they were of a normal size. It sat on the corner of a quiet street and in comparison with other shops, even though it was the smallest, looked to be doing better than all of them combined. It was clean, tidy, well stocked, and had what looked like a steady influx of trade.
It was this shop that Sherlock had dragged John over to, despite the protests and persuasion to go to a cheaper looking shop - just because the shop was small, didn't make it look less classy and expensive, and John did not have the money for classy and expensive, in fact he only had the money for cheap and comfortable. Sherlock probably deduced it, though, seeming that John only wore cheap jumpers and second hand uniform. But they walked into it anyway.
The door dinged as they entered and a lady came over to them brandishing a cup of tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other.
"Hello, my dear, what may I do for you today?" She asked kindly looking fondly at Sherlock, then at John with surprise.
Sherlock smiled and said, "We are in need of black clothing, Mrs Hudson. Special assignment. Top secret."
Mrs Hudson beamed, "Of course, of course, would you like to have a cuppa or do you want to just shop and go?"
"Shop and go, we need time to plan."
The lady's face fell slightly, "Well then, if you need me I will be by the desk- and before I go, who have you brought along?"
"Hello, I'm John, John Watson." John smiled at the lady.
Mrs Hudson's grin could not get any bigger. The expression was a mixture of pride and affection mixed into one.
"Don't let me keep you, off you go and get what you need."
Mrs Hudson walked to her desk leaving John and Sherlock standing in the doorway of the shop.
Looking towards the back of the shop John spotted a small section of black. He turned around to face Sherlock but Sherlock had already started to walk over to it.
"Follow me John!" He called over his shoulder.
Huffing, John followed obediently.
But by the time John had gotten to Sherlock, the genius had already had a few clothes picked out and proceeded to throw them onto John's arms.
"Try this one, John... No wait, this one is better. Oh! This would look great!" Sherlock said, lobbing another item onto Johns overcrowded pile of clothing. Sherlock then spotted an expensive Italian leather belt and proceeded to throw that on the pile as well. John groaned under the weight of the clothes and shuffled after Sherlock as he spotted yet another item of clothing.
John felt silly. No wait, that was an understatement. John felt utterly ridiculous. He was dressed in black skinny jeans held up with a black leather belt, a tight black shirt, a black leather jacket, and his hair stuck in a black beanie. It may seem like an alright style of clothing but the skinny jeans left nothing to the imagination and the shirt buttons looked like they were going to pop! Never mind, thought John, at least I won't be the only one. He glanced over at Sherlock who was trying on a large Belstaff coat and smiling to himself as he saw that it fitted.
As John gazed at Sherlock, he had failed to notice the door to the shop open and failed to notice who had come in. Turning back to face away from Sherlock, he was faced with the muscular body of the school tormentor.
"Now look who we have here, boys." He growled, waving over the rest of the gang, "Was that the guy you were with yesterday? I bet it is. Is he your boy friend? You little fag."
John cowered away, tears threatening to breach the safety of his eyes.
The buff guy turned around to see Sherlock staring at them with his intensely green eyes.
"That's him right? Oh my God. You have no idea what's in store for you when you get back to school."
He walked forward and grabbed John by the collar of his shirt, "You come anywhere near me or my gang then you is going to get beaten up so bad you won't be able to walk for a month. You got that you little shit? I said, you got that?"
John gulped and nodded. He was let down roughly and fell on hard floor with a grunt.
The bully walked out the shop after seeing Mrs Hudson's stare of disapproval, leaving John crying and terrified. Sherlock walked over worried and his face clouded in thought. He pulled John up and awkwardly tapped Johns shoulder, "Are you okay John? Did they hurt you, or do anything else of a violent nature?" Sherlock asked urgently, suddenly overcome with a need to protect his friend. The feeling he felt a few days ago rose once more into his chest, tugging at his throat.
John replied simply, "I'm... fine. Completely-"
He then rushed into Sherlock. The taller boy shifted in the tight embrace feeling very awkward and out of place, he then moved his arms around John's waist and gently patted his back - disjointedly at first then it became more natural. John buried his head into the crook of Sherlock's neck and rested it there as he sobbed, but after a minute or two the sobs slowly left his body. He looked to Sherlock and stepped away quickly,
"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He looked down at his shoes unable to make eye contact.
"It's okay John. I-I deduced what has gone on before. What is his name?"
"I don't want to say, can we just leave it?"
"Okay, and don't worry. I have paid for your clothes. I'll hail a taxi. Change into your normal clothes and meet me outside." Sherlock turned swiftly and left the shop.
John changed and gathered his belongs.
John invited Sherlock into his living room and they both sat down on the sofa with a contented sigh.
Putting down his bags, John asked,
"Right, how do we get in to the morgue?"
It was the most intelligent thing he could think of to say at that moment in time.
Sherlock sat forward on his armrests and put his hands together excitedly, he started smiling like an excited young child.
"Through the back door. My brother, Mycroft, has agreed to help me with this venture, which is strange, he never usually interferes with what I do. Maybe it is because I have found someone that can tolerate me. Then again he could be pretending to look over me just because Mummy-"
John stopped listening at that point, he could tell he had lost Sherlock to thinking aloud. Great, he thought, why does he have to ramble off like this? John looked at empty space and sighed and rested his head on his arm. Why did he attract these types of people? It was only last week that a guy called Moriarty started to talk to him and then wondered off into his own mind and started to think aloud in his presence. If he didn't think that Moriarty was mad then he would think that him and Sherlock could be great but dangerous friends.
John continued to look vaguely at Sherlock as he continued his prolonged ramble and when he finally stopped he posed another question, hoping for a shorter answer.
"What if anyone hears a noise and comes in? Surely if cleaners or who ever will be around would hear us and walk in on us."
Sherlock looked at John again with a look of pure delight on his face. "The coolers, or the refrigerator draws where they store the bodies. They are kept at very low temperatures so it would be wise to share one so we can share body heat. The body can be left on the table- the cleaners will leave it."
John was satisfied with the answer he got, but he wasn't the least bit comfortable with sharing a cooler with him. The all round closeness with bodies being pushed against each other and the fact that they could be found like that was terrifying. It would end his life officially. He thought his social life could not get any lower and well, now there was a possibility that it could.
John clasped his hands together as Sherlock close his eyes and tilted his head back in thought, John thought about making some dinner but he wouldn't have enough time for it to digest before they had to go to the morgue. They did have to walk there after all. And anyway it didn't look like Sherlock was that hungry. After deliberating for a while he decided to make them both tea. Tea would settle his nerves and hopefully calm down Sherlock.
"Want some tea?" John asked expectantly.
"Yes please. Black, no sugar" Sherlock said nonchalantly and waved his hand in the direction of John.
"So..." John started, since when was it so hot in here? "Should we start walking? Or should we wait around a bit longer? Your call Sherlock." John twiddled his hands anxiously for Sherlock's reply. The anticipation for what they were about to do sunk in.
Sherlock nodded and walked out of the door. John fell into step behind Sherlock and shoved his hands into his pockets and breathed out. It was a frosty night and he could see his breath as he exhaled. After about five minutes of walking down the dimly lit streets, John started to shiver and he slowed down his pace to compensate. The taller boy kept walking but he missed the presence beside him and turned to see a shivering John Watson.
He ran over to the older boy.
"Are you okay John?" it sounded like a stupid question, and it was, but John was grateful and
responded through chattering teeth.
"I'm j-j-just a b-bit cold. N-Nothing to worry about." John tried to force a smile but it looked out of place on his blue lips. Without a second thought Sherlock took off his huge coat that he had bought earlier that day and hung it around John's shoulders. It smelt musky- like Sherlock. John nodded thankfully, smiled to himself, and started to walk again. The length of the coat and the over-sizedness of it all made it a bit more difficult to walk, but eventually they made it to the morgue in good time without any mishaps.
Sherlock looked around the area to check for people watching then opened the back door to the morgue (which was open) and looked inside, gesturing for John to follow after him. Once inside Sherlock opened a map up in his mind to locate the body. Finding it, he pulled John along as they sneaked through endless corridors and every so often having to stop to check for people following them. Soon, though, they reached the room where the body was being kept.
The body was still laid on the table. It had lacerations about three inches long in a herringbone pattern all down its torso to the very last toe, and the face... The face was horrifying. The bottom jaw was missing and the eyes had been gouged out. In place of the eyes were two 20 sided dice and the rest of the face burnt beyond recognition, blisters covering every inch of skin. Sherlock's eyes fell to the neck, the initials J.W and S.H. were carved into it and he fell back straight away. Sherlock knew there was a message but never one that involved him. John looked over at the body and fell backwards retreating too quickly and falling. He could now see why they didn't want Sherlock to see the body - they were protecting him.
John got up and stood in shock by the doorway, looking out for anyone who might cause them trouble. Never in his short life had he thought he was going to throw up at the sight of a body. Never. But after seeing the mutilations on the dead man's corpse, it was going to be hard to keep his tea down.
Click, click, click.
It sounded like someone in heels.
Click, click, click.
The sound was getting louder and louder. John knew then that they were going to have to get in one of the body coolers or they would get caught.
Grabbing Sherlock by his arm, he threw open a cooler and shoved him in first, before climbing in after and closing it.
The clicking of shoes was almost at the door now and both of the boys were anxious for the person to enter.
Sherlock looked into John's eyes through the darkness and whispered in a quiet voice, "Don't make a sound."
John hid his face into Sherlock's shoulder as the taller boy snaked his arms around his waist in a comforting manner.
"Who's there? I know you're in here."
It was a female voice (which explained the clicking noises of her shoes).
John tried to steady his breath as the waited for a reply. Sherlock fidgeted underneath him making the cooler creak. Both boys sucked in a sharp breath of air. It was a fatal mistake. The lady clicked towards them quickly and opened the cooler above them,
"Ew, it's just the corpses making sounds again - why would my mum ever want to work here? It's disgusting."
The girl cursed again as she slammed the door making a loud noise.
John grabbed Sherlock's shoulders tighter and Sherlock squeezed John. The older boy breathed in deeply onto Sherlock's chest, it smelt musky and distinctively of Sherlock.
John pretty sure that the lady had gone but he didn't want to leave the cooler. Yes, it was pretty cold but the heat from Sherlock made up for it.
Turning over to face John, Sherlock smiled to himself. He had a boy lying on top of him and displaying affection and he was enjoying it. Never in his life had Sherlock even considered having a friend but now the thought of having friends was a good prospect. His short-cut through the alley had been a good decision after all.
He returned Johns affection by cuddling up to him in the same way but it was starting to get very cold so they needed to get out of there.
"As pleasant as this may be, I am cold and I know for a fact you are too. Push it open will you, my arms are trapped and yours are free." Sherlock explained to John. He tried to push on the door but it wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he pushed it would not give. Sighing in frustration Sherlock thought out loud,
"We came in at 2:00am, so the next person to come in would be... about 5:00am... Great."
Sherlock withdrew his arms from John to hit the ceiling of the cooler just before a male voice sounded. Neither of the boys had heard the person come in.
"Sally said she heard a voice in here... Hmm... Let's see... Found you!" The man walked over to the cooler where John and Sherlock were cuddling/hiding and pulled it open swiftly.
The guy gasped when he saw who was in there and then started to laugh. Sherlock, the boy who had tried to break into many a crime scene was hiding in a cooler unit with another boy. Wait, were they cuddling? He couldn't wait to tell his father.
"Sherlock."
"Lestrade."
John climbed off Sherlock, his face blushing crimson, and helped Sherlock up. They looked at Lestrade sheepishly. It wasn't the best circumstances to be acquainted by any standards.
"John." John stuck out a hand to be shook.
Taking the hand timidly, Lestrade shook it firmly.
"My name is Greg, but please call me Lestrade, oh, and please do not break in again. It causes all sorts of troubles and I really don't want my father to be stressing over this incident. But I can't let you go. I'm sorry but if there isn't a struggle I'm going to get into trouble." He lowered his voice into a whisper, "Escape the way you came in, just punch me and I'll fall down and let you get out. CCTV is every where."
Lestrade put up his guard but before he even blinked, Sherlock punched him hard on the nose. Grabbing John and puling him out of the room, they ran into the vast network of corridors.
The taller boy looked at John who was lagging behind, "Hurry up or we will get caught! And pull the balaclava back down!"
John puffed himself up then took off at a run.
The back door was almost upon them and Sherlock turned to John, "Kick it down, they must have locked it!"
Being a good little soldier he kicked it open.
After they were outside the two boys turned down a small alley way to catch their breath. John and Sherlock looked at each other smiling before breaking out in a fit of giggles. Leaning against the wall of the alley John turned to talk to Sherlock.
"Want to stay round my place tonight? I have enough room and I'm not going to go to school tomorrow. Not after what happened today."
"Hmm... okay. Can I borrow some of your clothes?"
"Sure."
A/N yay a longer chapter and more development! And just a warning shit goes down in the next chapter but it is shorter... Please tell me I did okay with this because I really want to know. Oh and I watched Third Star yesterday and I cried so much I forgot to post this chapter but anyhow... :)