I would like to start by thanking all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. Your support is greatly appreciated. In particular I would like to thank Anitayvette94, faultierqueen, reflectiveless, Blossoming Nightshade, Flavy, JeMa, and SeverusDmitri18 for you thoughtful and motivating reviews.
I am in a fairly better place now then when I started writing this chapter, but suffice it to say, I have not been having the best time of late.
So, if the mood strikes you, a review would be much appreciated. Thank you.
Thank you, Helena Chauby, for your help editing this story; I know it is a massive undertaking. I would also like to thank Lady of Clunn for your help with BritPicks. They have been both informative and a great help to improving this story.
Thank you also to my flatmate, sounding board, and own personal Sherlock, Geoff.
As always comments, feedback, and suggestions are always appreciated!
Chapter 3: Something There
John yawned slowly, stretching his limbs languidly beneath the covers. Being a highly productive person, a trait that had served him well in the army, he didn't often lay about in bed after waking up. Today, however, he needed to think. To think, properly, he needed to avoid Sherlock. He chuckled to himself at the irony.
Normally it was Sherlock ordering people out of a room, or to quiet down, so that he could think. Another irony.
Right now, John needed distance from the world's only consulting detective...to think about him. Thinking around Sherlock was difficult at best, because of Sherlock being...Sherlock. During a case, when Sherlock was thinking faster than most people could ever dream of...it would be impossible to have a thought that wouldn't be immediately deduced. This difficulty was now compounded because of certain..feelings John was having.
His mind went back to the clinic a week ago. Maybe he was smitten. He was certainly flustered by Sherlock's proximity these days. Or was he mistaking friendly feelings and the strong bond they had built between them for something more?
John ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Did it even matter? Even if he did have...feelings for Sherlock, the famous consulting detective had informed him from the start that he was 'married' to his work.
Still...it would be good to know, because Sherlock would certainly observe the truth. He knew everything. Would he even care? Were these feelings even strong enough to merit recognition? It had been a while since John had been on a date. Maybe he was just transferring unfulfilled romantic feelings over to someone he knew was safe?
John threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. This was still not helping. Now he was just sounding like his former therapist. So there was...something there. So what? They had a close (impossibly close really) friendship, and he wouldn't do anything to risk that. And Sherlock was probably asexual anyway. 'Besides,' John thought to himself, 'I'm not gay!'
Still frustrated, and more confused than when he began to think about all this, John heaved himself up and off his bed. He wasn't getting anymore sleeping done anyway. He threw on a robe, and stumbled down the stairs to make breakfast. Sherlock was at the kitchen table just as John had left him the night before, on John's laptop, naturally.
"Don't you ever sleep?" John muttered irritably around a yawn.
"Tea and toast are on the table," Sherlock said, gesturing with his head.
"Thanks," John mumbled, his bad mood dissipating for the moment. They were a bit over a week into this case now. Thankfully, there had been more time for food and sleep than normal. Oddly enough, Sherlock had been making breakfast. John felt a bit dumb for being touched, but he was touched all the same.
"It might be a bit cold...you took a long time before coming downstairs."
John's gaze flickered over Sherlock as he munched on his toast. Perfect example. Sherlock knew everything. He'd probably dismissed John's confused feelings as insubstantial and moved on days ago. He scooped up said tea and took a sip. It was warm, not hot, but still good. After a few swallows he spoke.
"What's on the docket for today?" This case was taking a bit longer than usual, but John wasn't surprised. Sherlock had created a good profile for the police, but too many people fit the profile. As Sherlock would say, there was not enough data to narrow the field accurately. Actually, what Sherlock would probably say was, 'There are simply too many idiots to choose from.'
Lestrade had taken Sherlock's advice, and published information on how the victims were found. One paper was even daring enough to publish a photo of Sean's hands clasped around Thomas's knees. Lestrade had thrown a fit over that photo, but he couldn't find enough proof to pin its existence or publication on Sherlock.
Sherlock had taken the photo, of course, and ensured its publication. John had overheard Lestrade verbally berating Sherlock over the phone the day said photo appeared in the papers.
Sherlock hadn't tried to hide anything from John. He went so far as to hang up on Lestrade to show John the original copy of the photo on his phone, and explain how he had done it. It was a small feat for the great consulting detective, but John was impressed all the same.
The reaction, both to the story and the accompanying photograph, had been volatile. There was an uproar in the religious and gay communities with news coverage, debates, and some protests. Sherlock had deemed the atmosphere a bit too volatile for him to question people in said communities just yet. It was the killer he wanted off-balance; not the general public. He needed accurate testimonies for accurate data. Sherlock had expected another murder soon. None had come...yet.
Sherlock had not been idle, however. He had spent days combing through newspapers and the internet for potentially relevant information. He searched everything from LGBT specific newspapers, to the national papers, to what may have been every magazine available in Great Britain. There was still not enough data to narrow the field, but it couldn't hurt to refresh his memory for when new data arose. While the relative quiet of Sherlock's research had been a nice change of pace for a case, John knew it couldn't last.
Sherlock finally tore his gaze away from the computer and fixed it seriously on John. "I need you to be my boyfriend, John."
John sputtered and choked on his tea. "P-pardon?"
Sherlock nearly winced. Nearly. He wasn't trying to take advantage of the case to express his feelings for John...mostly. Still, the reminder that John did not return Sherlock's romantic feelings stung. He knew John was far from homophobic; his discomfort around the assumptions of others stemmed from his preference for privacy more than anything else. This is why Sherlock's sentiment was useless. Sherlock would be on the losing side in this, even if John never discovered his true feelings.
Sherlock shook his head briefly to clear it, and explained. "Things have calmed somewhat in the last week, and I believe it is time to put out some feelers. We must try to see if the killer had a personal interest in the demise of Sean and Thomas, or if the crime was motivated by a hatred of their lifestyle. Problem is, the gay community is still a bit skittish. We would be less intimidating if we went out as a couple." He paused, uncertain, his desire to pursue the case warring with his desire not to upset John.
John stared down into his tea for a moment and gathered his thoughts. Given his recent state of mind, he wasn't sure if this request from Sherlock made him happy or uncomfortable. It was probably time to stop analyzing and just feel. Feelings may be messy and illogical, especially according to Sherlock, but John had found answers to many serious questions by following his heart. Still... John looked up meeting the surprisingly hesitant gaze of one Sherlock Holmes.
"You really think it will help the case?"
Sherlock waited a beat before answering, "Yes."
John nodded into his tea. "Alright." After a brief pause he continued, "You seem more cautious than normal. That's not like you."
Sherlock cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter. "Yes, well, if you were not aware of, and in agreement with, my plans it would be a pointless exercise. We wouldn't be a very convincing couple if you jumped every time I touched you, now would we?"
"Ah," John murmured in understanding, "So you were planning on convincing me to go along with this plan of yours, one way or the other?"
Sherlock grinned. "I am dedicated to my disguises."
John snorted with laughter. "That's putting it mildly. Besides, you needn't have worried. Everyone seems to think we're a couple anyway."
Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin in his 'thinking' pose and nodded. "Yes. We must do something about your reluctance to 'come out' as it were."
John shook his head, the gesture belied by the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "Is that how we're going to play it? That you won me over despite my shyness?"
Sherlock stood and crossed the distance between them with measured steps. He leaned over John, invading his personal space slightly. "Well," he murmured, his voice full of honey, "I have been known to be quite charming when I put my mind to it."
John swallowed and flushed at the intensity of Sherlock's gaze. The consulting detective was a formidable actor. He could almost believe... and then Sherlock was swooping away to tug on his coat and scarf. "Dress quickly, John. Our public awaits."
"Right, got it," John replied, rising from the table. This was an act. An act. He would have to keep that in mind.
For once, Sherlock didn't hail a cab. Instead they walked, arm in arm, down the streets of London.
"I fail to see how this is helping the case," John said, looking quizzically up at Sherlock.
Sherlock smiled in the rare spring sunshine and leaned down, his lips grazing John's ear, "Patience, John, patience," he whispered, "Even as a couple we will get better results if we come at this gently."
John nodded. That made sense. Sherlock had pointed out, before they left the flat, that this was supposed to be a disguise. He shouldn't have spoken so freely; he could've blown their cover before they'd gotten properly started. It would be better to just go with it.
He walked along deep in thought, letting Sherlock lead. It felt...good to have Sherlock on his arm. Surprisingly natural. He almost chuckled to himself when he thought of all the years he spent protesting that he wasn't Sherlock's date. This had only encouraged the rumors and, in fact, solidified this 'disguise' they were now using for the case.
Why had he protested so much? He wasn't homophobic, not at all. Because of the mess things had been at home when he was younger, he had always been private about his personal life. Well, some habits die hard.
They were soon in a part of London John didn't recognize. The streets were lined with small shops. These shops were overpriced and seemed to sell a bit of everything. Mostly knick knacks, decorations, and crafts.
John tipped his head up to look at Sherlock quizzically.
"I thought we could do some window shopping today." Sherlock's voice was warmer and more friendly than normal. Right. He was playing the adoring boyfriend.
John nodded. "Okay, but I'm not letting you bring something ridiculously expensive and useless back to the flat."
Sherlock smiled and nodded before steering John into a shop that sold bits of coloured and stained glass. They were pretty enough to look at and John enjoyed watching the patterns of multi- coloured light skipping over Sherlock's face. It reminded him, just a little, of the stained glass windows at the church.
Towards the back of the shop, away from the plethora of windows, John spied a hanging crystal in the shape of a heart. It struck John because it glowed with colours even in the darkest corner of the little shop. John didn't realise he had been staring until he heard a small cough from beside him, and looked up into the smiling blue eyes of a salesperson.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the blonde salesperson asked. His name tag declared him to be "Eric" and his green apron, with the store logo emblazoned on the front, confirmed that he worked here.
John glanced back to the crystal and nodded. "How is it so colourful away from the light?" He asked turning back to Eric.
Eric flashed him a crisp white smile. "It's called an aurora crystal because of that feature. The cut of it captures light, even in dim places, and reflects it outwards."
"A light in the darkness," Sherlock mused and John looked up at him, surprised. It wasn't like Sherlock to be sentimental. About anything. Oh, right. Playing boyfriend, mustn't forget that.
Eric beamed up at Sherlock. "Exactly! Many of our customers say they find the light of such crystals to be reassuring, during difficult times and all that."
Sherlock nodded thoughtfully before turning back to Eric. "We'll take one please."
John started, surprised. "What did I say about-"
Sherlock cut him off, "It's not useless, it made you smile."
John flushed, embarrassed at the attention. Sherlock was certainly an observant fake boyfriend. Well, and this probably-no definitely-must have something to do with the case that John was currently unaware of.
"I'll wrap it up for you right away," Eric murmured with a knowing smile as he glanced between Sherlock and John.
Sherlock promptly paid and, a few minutes later, they were walking down the street once more. John knew Sherlock had wanted to question people indirectly, he just hadn't realised that would actually involve a real-ish date. Still, Sherlock was the expert on disguises, and John trusted him. It would be better if he played along.
John laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder as they walked along, smiling when he felt the small hitch in the consulting detective's steps. Sherlock wasn't the only one who could surprise people. "Thank you," John murmured. Sherlock gave his arm a little squeeze, and John knew he'd been heard.
They wandered the streets for a quarter of an hour more before John saw a familiar face locking up one of the craft shops.
Sherlock lifted a hand in greeting and called out, "Isabel!"
Isabel Bruckner turned towards them, and smiled. "Sherlock! John!" She waved as she ran to meet them. "What are you doing here?" she asked, stopping just in front of them.
"Window shopping," Sherlock replied, "And yourself?"
Isabel turned and gestured to the shop she had just closed. "I own that craft shop, there. It's been closed since... well." Her face fell. "The funerals were yesterday and, I'm not quite ready to open yet."
Sherlock nodded in understanding. "You were very close to Sean and Thomas," he surmised.
"Yes," Isabel enthused, "And not just from church. I helped them meet, sort of."
Sherlock tipped his head to the side, showing interest. "Oh?"
Isabel nodded. "I met Sean at university, and Thomas was a customer of mine. I didn't directly hook them up, but I did recommend the same artist to them both. Thomas was just looking for art. Sean was looking for work while he tried to get his novel published... he was a writer, you see."
"And you recommended this artist to Sean so that he could model for him," Sherlock concluded.
Isabel flushed and nodded. "He's a very respectable artist, and Sean has-had such a nice body. Thomas happened to walk in when Sean was being sketched...I think he got quite an eye-full.
"Does this artist do portraits?"
Isabel looked up in surprise. "Yes, why? Are you thinking of having yours done?"
Sherlock pulled John a bit closer. "Ours actually."
A slow smile dawned on Isabel's face. "I see. Well, you do make a lovely couple."
Sherlock smiled back. "Thank you. "
"His name is Nicholas," Isabel said as she started digging through her purse. "I'm sure I have a copy of his card here. Ah!"
Isabel stretched out her hand and passed Sherlock a bright blue business card.
Sherlock took it with a smile, "Thank you, again," he murmured as he scanned the card. "We're in luck," he said, more to John that to Isabel, "He's not far from here."
Isabel glanced at the bag attached to Sherlock's wrist as he gestured. "You said you were window shopping, but that's not entirely true is it?"
Sherlock flushed a bit. John was once again impressed with his acting. "You caught me," Sherlock replied, "I picked up a little something for John."
Another soft smile from Isabel. "You'll spoil him," she said in reference to John.
Sherlock shrugged. "I can't seem to help myself."
"Well," Isabel began briskly, "I will let you gentlemen get back to your day. It was lovely seeing you again." She paused, her expression turning serious. "You'll let me know if you-"
"Yes," Sherlock cut her off. "I'm sorry to say there's no news yet. I expect that to change shortly."
Isabel nodded. "Good. Sean and Thomas were decent people; they didn't deserve this."
Sherlock nodded as well. "Good day, Ms. Bruckner."
"Good day, Mr. Holmes," Isabel replied, continuing past them, down the street.
John turned his head to watch her go for a moment, before looking back to Sherlock.
"To this artist's place then?" he asked.
"To Nicholas's," Sherlock confirmed.
Nicholas's studio looked like a Victorian salon with polished hardwood floors, plush rugs, elegant chairs, and impressively decorative coffee tables.
"Must be doing well for himself," John murmured, looking around.
Sherlock tapped the bell on the counter and it rang loudly in the otherwise empty space.
"In here!" came a soft, feminine voice from the room to the left.
Without hesitation Sherlock followed that voice and strode into the next room, John at his heels.
It had, apparently, been a woman that called them in. She was laying, naked, upon a large sleigh bed with lavish bedclothes. She was bent at an awkward angle, her hips resting against the curve of the bed while her feet dangled over it. Her arms were thrown over her head as though she had been tossed onto the bed.
John gaped for a moment until he saw the artist off to his right, sketching her.
"You'll have to excuse me," Nicholas said without looking up. "She's my receptionist," he gestured towards the model. "I'm afraid I've left my customers at a bit of a disadvantage today."
The receptionist chuckled, hair dark brown hair shaking around her shoulders. "You just want to attract more potential models by dragging people back here."
Nicholas smirked into his sketch pad. "Guilty." He finished a few more pencil strokes before looking up at Sherlock and John. "Well this is a surprise. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."
Nicholas set his sketchpad down, and stood to shake Sherlock's hand. "Please tell me I can get you to model for me," Nicholas enthused, "I will never find another model with your cheekbones!"
Sherlock shook his head with a wry smile. "You may get me to pose with John, but not alone."
Nicholas glanced at John and grinned. "Of course, a portrait with your partner, how sweet."
John glanced sideways at Sherlock. "Does anyone not know about us?"
Nicholas chuckled. "It's hard to keep a love like yours quiet."
Jon flushed and looked down.
"What are you working on now?" Sherlock inquired
Nicholas glanced back to his receptionist. "Oh Sheryl is helping me with a series of nudes I've been working on. She's great with poses."
Sherlock nodded, studying Sheryl for a moment. "May I?" He gestured to Sheryl.
John didn't know what Sherlock was asking, but Nicholas must have, because he held his hand out to Sheryl. "As long as she doesn't mind."
Sherlock looked at Sheryl who shrugged. "Go ahead."
Sherlock stepped over to her and considered her position again for a moment before reaching forward and grasping her ankles. Sherlock gently tugged on her legs until they were draped over the side of the bed. His hands wrapped around her hips then, shifting her more to the side of the bed, in line with her legs. His hands then slipped under her ribcage and tugged until she arched her back. Next Sherlock grasped her wrist and draped one hand over her breasts, leaving her other arm bent at the elbow with her hand close to her face. Then Sherlock hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head to lengthen her neck. He stepped back for a moment before leaning down and grasping her right ankle, bending her leg at the knee, and placing her foot over her entrance.
'It does make a more interesting picture,' John thought as he glanced sideways at Sherlock, and then glared resolutely at the floor. What was it with Sherlock and naked women being completely comfortable around him? First Irene, now...what was her name? Sheryl?
John heard Nicholas chuckle quietly before saying, "Careful now, I think you've made your boyfriend jealous."
John glared harder at the floor. He was not jealous. He wasn't.
The edges of Sherlock's shoes came into his vision, and John felt one of Sherlock's cool, thin fingers pull his chin upwards so that their eyes could meet. Damn Sherlock and that soft expression in his bloody magnificent eyes.
John closed his own eyes when Sherlock leaned in and, despite his ire, gave the smallest smile when he felt Sherlock's lips against his hairline.
Sherlock shifted, after a moment, and wrapped his arm around John's shoulders. "He has nothing to be jealous about," the consulting detective stated, "I was just trying to apologise for interrupting your sketching."
Nicholas grinned. "I should hope you have cause to apologise to me more often if this is how you do it." Nicholas scanned his model and looked back to Sherlock. "This is a fantastic pose."
"I'm glad you approve," Sherlock replied.
"Before I get back to sketching," Nicholas began, "Should we schedule a portrait for the two of you?"
Sherlock glanced at John and asked, "What do you think about Thursday, two weeks from now?"
John shrugged, "It's fine." He was really starting to wonder how this was relevant to the case.
"That works for me as well," Nicholas gushed, enthusiastic, and picked up a planner that had been on the floor next to him. "Say, around, ten a.m.?" Sherlock and John nodded, and Nicholas began to scribble in his planner. "How did you hear about me anyway? I do get walk-ins, but my business operates largely on word of mouth."
Sherlock's mouth set in a grim line before he replied. "Isabel Bruckner."
Nicholas stopped writing and looked up. "Ah, I read you were working the case with Thomas and Sean. Is this visit about that then?"
Sherlock looked down at John again and gave him a squeeze. "One could say this case hits close to home," he looked back up at Nicholas, "and that this trip is mixing business with pleasure."
Nicholas nodded and set his planner back down. He seemed more at ease "I knew them well. Isabel might have informed you that Sean used to pose for me?"
Sherlock nodded.
Nicholas shook his head. "They were such a beautiful couple. I have no idea why anyone would hurt them."
"Did they have any family tensions?"
"No," Nicholas shook his head again. "Both families were incredibly supportive."
John felt Sherlock nod above him. In addition to his research, Sherlock had reviewed police statements given by the family, they all said the same thing-No one would want to hurt these men. It must have been a stranger then, someone who took their love life personally. John figured Sherlock was having the same thoughts. After all, he was always a step ahead.
"Thank you for fitting us into your schedule, Nicholas," Sherlock began, pulling everyone out of their thoughts. "And thank you for answering our questions."
Nicholas nodded to himself, then made eye contact with Sherlock. "John raves about you in his blog. I think we're in good hands."
Sherlock smiled and opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang.
"That's probably Lestrade," John said.
"Agreed," Sherlock replied, reaching for his own damn phone for once.
"Go ahead," Nicholas made a 'shooing' motion with his hand, "I'll see you when you come around for your portrait."
Sherlock lifted the phone to his ear with one hand, and tugged John towards the exit with his other. By the time they were on the street again Sherlock had slipped his phone back inside his jacket pocket.
"Another couple," Sherlock muttered.
John winced. He had hoped they might get to the bottom of this before now, but even Sherlock was only human. Then John remembered something, and looked back up at Sherlock. "Did you tell Lestrade we're coming? Did you even say anything to him?"
A slow smirk formed at the side of Sherlock's mouth. "I must keep the good inspector on his toes somehow. Besides, he knows we're coming. Why would we do anything else?"
John shook his head and smiling despite himself. "What am I going to do with you Sherlock?"
Sherlock just chuckled in John's ear.