Chapter 26

John exhaled. At least he had reached the first floor, where the library was located. Luckily there were no detectors on the stairs, or he would have gone mad trying to avoid them. Probably he should have slithered up the stairs like a snake. Good thing that the security wasn't perfect, he thought grimly.

Now he was huddled on the top step, looking where he should go. The detector was on his left, looking over the hall upstairs, and the smallest step he would put forward would make the alarm go off. That meant that he had to stay low, pressed against the wall. It didn't help that Ian was behind him on the stairs (so he could move more freely during John's test), watching every move and clearly amusing himself.

Owain had taken position by the front door, ready to switch off the alarm as soon as John would make it go off. It had already happened once, when he had been so stupid to try to cross the hall, instead of going through the living room to reach the other side of the house, where the stairs were. It had seemed more logical that a thief would come through the back door, and that would have saved John a lot of difficulty and uncomfortable positions, but Sherlock would probably be furious if he heard that John hadn't tried everything, so there he was, on his knees with his side pressed to the wall, crawling towards the library door. The things I'm doing for that man, he thought, mentally shaking his head at himself.

He pushed the door open just far enough to get through, then crawled into the corner to catch his breath and thinking of a way to pass this room. The detector was right above him, so as long as he stayed where he was, there was no problem. Subsequently, he should stay close to the bookcase, but once on the other side of the room, he would inevitably come into view of the motion detector.

Hmm. He had almost decided that this final step made it impossible to reach the place behind the desk where the book had been placed, when he realized that if he lay down and crawled through on his stomach, as flat as he could, it would be possible to keep out of sight. For a moment that thought evoked visions of crawling through the mud of years ago in his army days, but he quickly shook them off. The fact that it was possible, was enough; he didn't actually need to perform this last step to know what he needed.

He sighed and wished he could get up and stretch his painful limbs already. "You can switch it off!" he called through the door, still pressed up in his corner.

As soon as the system was off, Ian rushed to the library. "So it's possible?" he asked.

"Yeah," John said, getting up and cracking his neck. "Far from comfortable to try it though. I'd prefer buying a book if it were up to me."

Ian chuckled. "I'm not sure it would be easier buying this particular book." Then he smiled at John. "Tea?"

"Yeah, I could use some." He stretched out with his arms above his head. "The question still is how he got back out once he had the book."

Ian frowned. "Are you sure it was a 'he'?" he asked. "Do you know something?" Then his face lit up. "Oh, of course. Sherlock has already found a suspect, right?"

"Uhm, Sherlock would say it is statistically more probable. Wasn't really thinking so much when I said that."

"Oh." Ian paused for a moment. Then he went on: "But he already has some ideas right? Last night he said that I'd been very helpful, so he must know something, right? Or at least suspect it?"

"Last night?" John frowned. "Where have you seen him last night?"

"Oh," Ian smiled a little shyly. "He called me."

"Ah. He didn't tell me he would. What did he ask you?"

"Oh, stuff." Ian's eyes became unfocused as he remembered. "About uncle's habits, his friends and guests. My friends..." he seemed lost in thought for a moment, then shook himself. "Tea!" he said. "Want me to bring it here or would you rather have it in the sitting room?"

"Sitting room," John said, still frowning. Ian seemed far too distracted when thinking of his boyfriend. Suddenly it wasn't a problem at all to think of him like that.

'Security system isn't watertight. Had a nice chat with Ian?' he texted while going downstairs.

Sherlock's reply came a few minutes later: 'Good work. Send me the details and pictures. And yes, it was very enlightening.'

'What did you learn?' John typed a little aggressively, sitting down in a chair, waiting for tea.

Normally he would offer to help Ian, but at the moment he didn't feel like it.

'That Ian Gryffydd is not a very good judge of character. Need to confirm some things, but I may have found a suspect.'

'Who? I think you made quite an impression on Ian.'

'Ian had a friend stay at the house three weeks ago. A fairly new acquaintance named Oliver Burghess, or so he claimed. He seemed to have had free access to most of the house in the five days he spent there, and I believe that this time may have been utilised to familiarise himself with the layout and security system.'

As Ian poured the tea he glanced at John's phone and smiled.

John glared up at him, before he remembered to force his face into friendliness. "Thanks."

'Perhaps he also found out that the book was here back then? Why would he steal it? Money?'

Sherlock's response came quickly. 'No.'

And then, only a few seconds later, another one came in: 'Though rare, the book is hardly the most valuable in the collection. Someone wanted that specific book, and 'Burghess' was clearly there with the specific purpose of locating the book and figuring out how to get it. Then it was only a matter of gaining access to the house before Ian and his uncle left for the weekend. Once alone in the house it would have been easy to make his way to the library. Have you made any progress in determining where he was hiding?'

'Yeah, really easy to get to the library with the alarm on, if you have a soft rubber tube instead of a spine. I may hope for him that he wasn't hiding too far from the library. Though it would make things easier if he was already hidden in the house. The rooms closest to the library are Ian's and Owain's, and perhaps the bathroom. No good hiding places in the library itself, and then he still had to find a way to get out again.'

'What can you tell me about those rooms? Please send pictures.'

'Can't show you Owain's. Some people have this thing they value, called privacy.'

John looked up from his phone. "Ian, could I see your room? Sherlock would like a picture, but of course it's alright if you'd rather not have me send that."

Ian blushed a little. "No," he said hurriedly. "Of course you can."

"For the case," John felt the need to add sternly.

Ian's blush deepened. "Of course..." He wouldn't quite meet John's eyes. "Now?" he asked.

"Uhm, yeah, he's pretty impatient," John shrugged.

Ian nodded and motioned for John to follow him. As they walked to his room he asked: "What's he like working with?"

John looked around and took out his phone to take the pictures. "He's... pretty impossible," he answered, carefully minding his words.

Ian grinned. "You share that flat with him too, don't you? Is he equally impossible living with?"

"He's, uhm... yeah. Hardly anyone would put up with him," John said, snapping another picture of the desk.

"It must be interesting too though, right?" Ian sat down on his bed, watching John work.

"Yes. You know. If you like body parts in the fridge," John said offhandedly.

Ian snorted. "Really?"

"They're for experiments," John nodded.

"Oh," Ian watched him again for a while. "How long have you known him?"

"We've been living together for... God, it's almost a year," John realized.

"Wow. But didn't you know each other before that?"

"Er, no. I had returned from Afghanistan a few months before and I was looking for an affordable flat in London," John explained, putting his phone back in his pocket. "I've sent the pictures, we're done here."

Ian frowned. "So you just moved in together without knowing each other?"

"Well, he more or less knew everything about me anyway. He had deduced the most important points, and we got along from the start. And he looked as if he could make my life a little less meaningl- well." That was none of Ian's business actually.

"Yes, he does that, doesn't he?" Ian said with a smile. "I only met him yesterday and we were out the door so quickly. But when he called last night. It was like he'd known me my whole life."

John slightly narrowed his eyes and looked up at him. "Yes..." he said slowly.

Ian blushed again. "So," he said. "You were done here?

"Yes, I'll make some pictures of the library now, and then Sherlock can get to work with that. He's probably bored to death now."

"Oh yes," Ian said. "It must be hard for a man like that having to stay home and leave all the work to his assistant."

"Excuse me?" John said, pulling up his eyebrows.

"I mean, he seems so full of energy and he is so... intense... I wish I could have seen him at work."

"Yeah, but I'm not actually his assistant," John said, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh," Ian said. "But I thought..." he paused. "What exactly are you then?"

"I'm his doctor, and his best friend, and the one who ordered him to stay home, so most certainly not his assistant," John said defensively. And his bloody boyfriend.

"Oh... I..." Ian stammered, almost flinching at his tone. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." he stopped, looking mortified.

John cleared his throat and took pity on him. "It's okay." It was Sherlock's fault after all. Using his charm almost only on the people he shouldn't use it on.

Ian got to his feet. "You wanted some pictures of the library too, right?"

"Yes, if that's possible."

"Of course it is." Ian went to the door and held it open for John.

"Thank you."