Chapter 28
John sighed. When Ian had brought him to Oliver's house earlier, he had hoped the case would be solved soon. He should have known the bird had flown. So here he was, in a car that would bring him to Belfast, rather than London. It was a shame that Sherlock needed his rest and couldn't join him. At least his talk with Owain had helped Sherlock a little, but the end was nowhere near. Ian was quietly sitting next to him, probably trying to process the fact that his geeky friend didn't really exist. "Are you okay?" John asked, a bit worried by the normally chatty man's pale, sad look.
Ian nodded and sat looking out the window. Then he took a deep breath. "I can't help but feel that this is all my fault. If I hadn't been so horribly naive, none of this would have happened."
John sympathetically shook his head. "Sherlock told me this Thomas is a professional. It's his job to fool people into trusting him. Don't blame yourself for this."
"Sherlock said that?" Ian smiled a little.
John decided to grant Ian this to make him feel better, and nodded.
Ian relaxed visibly. He sat for a while, smiling, then spoke again. "It's really amazing how he could find out so much, in such a short time, despite being so far away."
"He's a genius after all," John shrugged, smiling. Of course he is amazing. Part of him was actually glad that Ian didn't see Sherlock as a freak, like most people did.
Ian nodded. "I hope I get to thank him in person when all this is over," he said.
They fell silent again. John took his phone to text Sherlock. 'Everything okay? Long rides are boring. Don't forget to eat.'
'Ate something yesterday. I know some cures for boredom, but I don't think they will be much help right now.'
'Shut up. I miss you. Eat!'
'Yes doctor.'
"Anything new on the case?" Ian asked eagerly.
John smirked at his phone for a moment. "Not really. Sherlock thought it possible that the convention your uncle went to was set up by the thief, but I'm not sure. After all Owain told me that there were about 100 participants and that doesn't seem suspiciously few for this kind of thing."
"Oh." Ian thought about it for a moment. "But isn't it too much of a coincidence, that uncle had to bring pictures of the very book that went missing while he was gone?"
"Hmm. Probably. Do the friends you went to visit know Thomas as well?"
"Yes. It was Claire who introduced us... " Ian frowned. "Do you think she is part of this too?"
"Not necessarily," John said quickly. He didn't need Ian to distrust all of his friends in the future. "But it could have been his idea to lure you away from the house too, so he was free to steal the book. Perhaps he told Claire that you were free that weekend, or something like that."
"I can ask her," Ian suggested, taking his phone out of his pocket.
John gave him an encouraging nod.
Ian's entire demeanour changed as he spoke on the phone. "Claire honey... Yes, none other..." He laughed and seemed more like a young university student than like the suited assistant/butler existing solely to serve his uncle's every whim. As he asked her about 'Oliver' and his last visit, he was joking and teasing, and somehow his accent seemed less obvious.
John was surprised to hear Ian like that, all the sadness about his friend forgotten, at least for the duration of the phone call. It was almost a relief when Ian put his phone away. "What did she say?"
"You were right," Ian answered. "It was in fact 'Oliver' who suggested the get-together, but then he called and cancelled at the last moment."
"Then probably the convention was organised for the same reason," John nodded, texting the new information to Sherlock.
Sherlock's reply came a few minutes later: 'Good job. This narrows down potential employers.'
…
John woke up when the car stopped in front of the expensive hotel. The dull monotony of the landscape after sunset had caused him to drift off about an hour ago.
"We're here," Ian said with a smile, pocketing his phone. He got out and went round the back to collect their bags.
John stepped out of the car and took a deep breath of fresh air. "Can I help?" he asked, pointing at the bags.
Ian smiled at him. "No, it's okay. I've got them." He nodded at the chauffeur who drove off. "Shall we?"
"Yeah." They walked into the reception hall, where John was glad to let Ian arrange their rooms.
Ian handed John his key. "I suppose you want to get settled in," he said. "But I thought we might go out and get something to eat. I'm famished."
"Thanks. I'll just dump my bag and then I'll come with you." A few minutes later, he joined Ian in the hall again.
Ian had his phone out and was busy texting.
John glanced curiously at Ian's phone. "Ready to go?"
Ian hit 'send' and nodded. "Fancy anything in particular?" he asked.
"As long as I can eat it," John shrugged.
Ian laughed. "Pizza?"
"Good idea," John smiled.
...
Dinner didn't take too long, and they agreed that they would try to find Thomas Elton the next day. Once back in his room, John only unpacked some fresh clothes for the next morning, hoping they wouldn't have to stay long, and went to have a quick shower. Feeling refreshed, he sat down on the bed and called Sherlock.
Sherlock had been thinking on the sofa when the phone interrupted him. When he saw John's name on the display he bit back the irritated response that had been forming in his mind. "Hi," he said, his voice filled with warmth and longing.
"Hello, love. Any new thoughts on the case?"
"Many, but they can wait. How have you been?"
"Fine. Ian is a little annoying sometimes. I'm glad he admires you, but he shouldn't exaggerate."
"He admires me?" Sherlock chuckled. "How exactly does he exaggerate that?" he asked teasingly.
"You know. He's far too interested in you for his own good," John grinned.
"Oh. Well, that's not good." Sherlock couldn't keep the mirth out of his voice. "Doesn't he realise that I am very much spoken for?"
"Don't think so. If he gets too bad, I'll remind him," John smirked. "So, how are you doing?"
"The case keeps me from getting bored out of my mind, but I miss you," Sherlock admitted.
"I miss you too. This bed is far too big to sleep in alone."
"I could come join you..." Sherlock knew the answer, but couldn't resist suggesting it. Not only did he desperately need to get out of the flat, but after having been so constantly close for weeks on end, John's absence was becoming unbearable.
John sighed. "You know why you can't. Don't make it worse."
"I know why you think I shouldn't. That doesn't mean I have to like it."
"I know. I hope I'll soon be home. Do you have any idea where exactly Thomas Elton lives?"
"Yes, I'll text you the details later. He is currently working under another name, already involved in a new scheme it seems."
"Okay, thanks." For a moment, a silence fell, but John didn't want to put the phone down. "Are you working on something right now, or could you do with... some relaxation?"
Sherlock smiled. "What did you have in mind?"
"Dunno. I know I could do with a wank, and it's a lot nicer if I can at least hear you."
Sherlock chuckled and let his voice descend to John's favourite level. "Oh... I see your point."
John grinned. "I love you."
"Oh, I love you too," Sherlock said, his smile widening. "And I do miss you so terribly. The bed is so cold and empty without you."
"If I were there, I would definitely do something about the cold," John purred. "I'm going to kiss every inch of your body when I get home."
"I'll hold you to that promise, you know," Sherlock said, finding himself being quite affected by the conversation.
"Good." John let his left hand slip into his pants. "I want you."
"I want you too," Sherlock said, "I want you to come home so I can kiss you and touch you and rip all your clothes off."
John moaned and pushed his pants down. It was as if Sherlock's voice was vibrating through him. "I want your cock in my mouth until you are aching to come, and then I want you to ride me." His hand sped up, leaving him breathless.
"Oh god," Sherlock shuddered at John's words. "I want that too. But most of all I want to have you. To take you in every position you can possibly imagine."
John groaned. "I'm not going to last long if we keep talking like this. Are you- are you also touching yourself?"
Sherlock almost laughed. "It's kind of hard with this stupid thing on my arm, if I have to hold the phone too, y'know. Hang on, let me put you on speaker."
"Yeah. I wish I could touch you, Sherlock." John slowed down his strokes, waiting for Sherlock to join him.
Having put down the phone Sherlock unbuttoned his trousers and slipped his hand inside. "What would you do if you could?"
"Kiss you senseless, for a start." John's lips were virtually aching for a kiss. "What would you want me to do?"
"Well, that..." Sherlock said. "And then I'd want you to unbutton my shirt, and let your hands slide inside to touch me."
"Hm, yes..." John lost track for a moment. "I want to lick down your stomach. Bite your hip."
"I think you know exactly what I'd want you to do then," Sherlock said, closing his eyes, his breathing deep and quick.
"God," John moaned, his hand repeatedly flicking over the head of his cock. "I wish you were here."
"I wish you were here, John, because that would mean you wouldn't have to go out working on the case in the morning and I could just keep you in bed all day, doing every conceivable thing to you."
"Close," John panted, the phone almost slipping out of his hand. He went to stroking his whole length again in a quick pace.
"Me too," Sherlock gasped, his hand moving fast, still inside his trousers. This was going to make a mess, but he just didn't care.
"Come with me," John almost begged, then he gasped and spilled over his hand. "Sherlock."
"Oh god." The words were more than Sherlock could take and he followed only seconds behind John.
John just lay panting, his hand still on his cock, relishing Sherlock's moans. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too," Sherlock gasped, once he was able to speak again.
John let out a happy sigh. "You know," he suddenly said smugly, "you just confessed that you like being in bed with me even more than being on this case."
"Shut up," Sherlock said with a laugh. "You know that if I had you in my bed and no case, I'd be driving both of us insane. Why can't I have both?"
John chuckled. "Still, I'm flattered."
"You should be."
"Are you going to sleep tonight?"
"Probably not."
"Hm. As long as you make sure you have some energy left by the time I come home." John yawned and rolled on his side to take some tissues and clean himself up a bit, then pulled the blankets over himself. "Goodnight, Sherlock."
"Goodnight John," Sherlock said, before getting to his feet and heading for the shower.
