Here's another instalment of TSABAC.
Sorry, Parodys. Can't let anything away. *wink*
Yes, the title is from Les Mis. We're amazing Les Mis fans over here.
Sorry we were a little late. I mean, we tried but then I'm an idiot and took forever to reply to this and everything. It's here now though.
When morning broke John rolled around, the sheets swallowing him up. For once he felt refreshed. Like he had had a decent night's sleep. No panics in the night and no worries. Despite everything that lied ahead. He had slept somewhere that felt like home to him, surrounded by the welcoming smell of Sherlock. There was only one problem. Like something was missing. John had a sinking feeling that he knew what that was or really who that was. But there was nothing he could do about that.
John remained in bed for an extra few minutes, taking time to appreciate where he was seeing as it most likely would not happen again. After awhile he realised that he had left Sherlock's old scarf within his bed. Hopefully Toni hadn't found it or just didn't ask about it. It wasn't something he wished to explain really.
Making his way to the kitchen John placed the kettle on before making his way into the living room. Sherlock was staring down into the street below. Focused on a group of cars. "He's still here."
"Oh," John replied. "Well erm, the sooner Mycroft gets here the better then, right?"
"I suppose." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He loathed asking his brother for help. "He could arrive by ten."
John considered going into his bedroom to find some clothes, but decided against it until Toni had woken up. She was in desperate need of rest and having an intruding man, even if she was in his bedroom, would not help anything. Hopefully, the deal could be made quickly and she would be safe soon.
"John," Sherlock said quietly, absentmindedly, "you have left some jeans, a shirt or two and a rather fetching pullover in my bedroom."
John flushed a deep pink. This was only adding to his discomfort; mainly though, he was uncomfortable with being wrapped in the scent of the man after sleeping in his bed. The smell of Sherlock was one that hadn't clung to John in what seemed like forever. It was tinted with, to John at least, both immeasurable happiness, elation and general freedom from everything, and unfathomable sadness and despair.
"I'll... Go get dressed then." John smiled, slipping back out of the room and into Sherlock's. The bed was messy and unmade, very unSherlock and very John-like; there was a crumpled shirt on the floor from a week or two ago, it had roughly two hours wear and would suffice until Toni woke. He dressed in the old shirt, and the clothes he had worn yesterday. He did feel a little uncomfortable in the clothes, but desperate times and all that. He grinned to himself because, despite everything, Sherlock was back. And Sherlock being back was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him, apart from meeting the man in the first place.
Looking at the clock in Sherlock's room John could see it was only eight in the morning. Only two hours waiting to do then. Quickly John made the Sherlock's bed; he had to think of it as Sherlock's again, up and collected his washing. Luckily Sherlock's washing basket still remained in the corner and as far as John was aware Mrs Hudson did the washing on the same day every week. He still had a day for that yet so he had a reason to leave his washing in there.
Upon exiting the bedroom John found Sherlock to still be in his position by the window. Though apparently just staring into fine air. John made his way into kitchen and started to prepare the cups for when the kettle finally boiled. "Sherlock," he called out into the living room. "Tea?"
"Coffee. Black, tw-"
"Two sugars, yes. I know." John smirked to himself. The exact same way every time. John hadn't forgotten. Probably never would. It was like the minute details about Sherlock were embedded upon his mind and he couldn't shift them. Not that he wanted to of course. Once the kettle had boiled John finished making the drinks and took them through into the living room, placing Sherlock's coffee on top of the day before's newspaper. He then chose to sit in his usual chair at the wooden table by the window. According to his watch they still had awhile to wait.
Sherlock looked at John; not just looking though, and he wasn't quite observing. He was noticing, for the first time, a few things that he hadn't noticed about John before. Like, for example, John had five hairs on his head that stood at a different angle to every other, and they would not change that. He also, as another example, had his trousers hung lower than he would have had in the military; a sign that he was growing detached from that way of life. Somehow, these minuscule details managed to absorb Sherlock for an unusually long amount of time. He looked at the clock face of John's watch. Only half an hour left.
"The girl." He smiled at John. "Doesn't she need waking, before Mycroft arrives?"
"Yeah." John nodded, standing up. He slipped one hand into his pocket and walked towards his room. He rapped gently on the door with his knuckles.
It was answered by Toni, who was wrapped in his duvet. She looked tired still and, although the night's rest had done well, it had not done enough to cure her of her bags.
"'Ello." She mumbled, smiling.
"We're going to have a guest in half an hour, so if you want a shower or something, just go ahead and sort it all out." John smiled his voice quiet and soothing. "I'm cooking breakfast for myself in second, do you want some? It's pretty much going to be a full English."
"Thanks." Toni grinned impishly. She was beginning to wake up. "I'll take you up on that offer."
"Bathroom's that way," John gestured. "You'll get there eventually. Can I quickly run in and grab some clean clothes?" Toni nodded, letting John in so he could get the clothes he wanted. "Join us in the living room when you're ready," he smiled before making his way back into the living room. Sherlock was exactly where he left him though he had obviously gotten changed. "I'll be making breakfast in a moment. I don't suppose you want any?"
Sherlock scoffed. "Absolutely not." He reached down to pick up his cup of coffee before frowning at the cup. "It's cold."
"Well obviously," John rolled his eyes. "I made that for you an hour and a half ago. You were just staring into space so I left it on the side. It then went cold."
Not wishing to hear the reply John sneaked back into Sherlock's room to change quickly before returning to the kitchen to start breakfast. Mrs Hudson had obviously been shopping and replaced the food in the middle of the night as the fridge was reasonably filled. Compared to the empty state it was left in after dinner the night before. Thankfully he had plenty of time to prepare breakfast for both Toni and himself before Mycroft would arrive.
Toni sat down at the table, her hair was still wet and she was dressed in the clothes she had arrived in last night. They were crumpled from lying on the floor of John's bedroom.
Sherlock smiled to himself as he looked out of the window. The view was normally rather unspectacular, but today he found it fascinating. There was still a blue Audi parked across the road, not one of Mycroft's and not from anyone he knew... His poet must be watching.
John served out breakfast for himself and Toni. He put the plates down and seated himself.
"Isn't he going to eat?" Toni nodded at Sherlock's back.
"No, he never eats when he's on a case." John sighed, "And you're only here because he's on a case."
Toni nodded, chewing her fried mushrooms with care. They were surprisingly good; fried in butter with some rosemary and various other herbs.
John smiled as he watched her devour the plate of food. He pushed his meal around, picking at the fried mushrooms and slicing the sausages with care, only to watch them cool rapidly until they became unappetising. At least, he thought to himself, someone in the flat was enjoying their food.
Toni ate half a fried tomato in one gulp, mopping up the juices with a slice of French toast.
"You're a very," she nibbled the toast, "very good cook, John."
John blushed slightly, he was used to eating alone and so had never thought that his skills were anything special. He just had a weakness for the good ol' English breakfast and so had practised many times. "Thanks." He smiled weakly.
"I mean it," Toni laughed, "if I stay here much longer I'll get fat!"
John smiled a genuine, massive Cheshire Cat smile. "I wouldn't allow my cooking to ruin your figure."
"If all your cooking is as good at that was, you're welcome to."
Toni's voice reached Sherlock and he turned his head slightly, listening to the conversation. John was doing that damned, irritating social thing he did again. That thing he did to go on dates. What had he called it? Flirting.
The word had been filed away in the back of Sherlock's mind, only kept there in case he needed it again at some point in the future. So far, it hadn't come in handy at all. Waste of time and space, but most things were unless you were in the right situation.
"John," Sherlock announced, still not completely facing the pair. "I believe it is time that you ring that person, John."
John nodded. He hadn't talked to them in over a week. If he thought about it it would probably be nearer to three weeks. He just didn't have the heart any more. "Excuse me a moment, Toni, I just have to go ring someone. Sherlock, I'll do it in your room," he stood up and made his way to Sherlock's room. Once inside John reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone before letting out a deep breath. It was now or never. He dialled the number and placed it to his ear, listening to the rings.
"Hello?"
"It's me," John said weakly.
"John!" The reply came. "I was wondering when you were going to ring me!"
"Yeah, sorry about that," he shuffled his feet. "Hi, Harry." Recently he really disliked ringing Harry. Ever since she had gotten better and recovered from her alcohol issue he had just deteriorated. It hadn't been easy for him. Watching the sister he had supported for so long suddenly become the strong one whilst he was the emotional mess that, apparently, needed constant care. In the end he had refused to see Harry. He knew it wasn't her fault. He was grieving but he just couldn't handle it.
"John! I saw the news. Sherlock is back! Why didn't you ring me?" Her asked full of concern.
John paused. He knew the answer but it would hurt her. It was better now. Somehow. He wasn't so pathetic. "I was being... well you know before he got back. Then when he did there was no time. I've nearly been exploded, shot at and confused as fuck."
Harry was silent for a moment. "Language, Watson." She giggled, "I kid of course. Jesus. Five bloody minutes and it's the same again. Can't believe you loved that sort of thing or even bloody missed it."
"It wasn't exactly the lifestyle, Harry, and you know it," he sighed. "I'm not ringing about that though."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. We need your help, Harry."
There was another moment of silence. "What do you need?"
"The spare room and enough generosity to accept a young girl into your home." John paused. "You're the safest place we know, Harry. Please?"
"When will you be bringing her round?" Harry asked, not showing any decision in her voice.
"Today. Possibly tonight."
"Jesus, John! More of a warning would be nice," she exclaimed. "Bring her round. I still owe you big time."
He did try to protest but she soon shut him up. "Thanks, Harry. Look I have to go. I've left Sherlock with Toni and you know how he is."
Harry sighed at the other end of the phone. "I know, big bro. See you later. We'll talk then."
"Yeah, we'll talk then," he rolled his eyes. That would be eventual. "See you later."
Placing his phone back into his pocket John lent against the back of the door and let out a deep breath. Harry, of course, knew everything. She knew everything before John knew anything. Like anybody else out there apparently. John remembered the first day she had mentioned it. He had cursed at her and stumbled off to his room. Even if he did what was the point? He was in love with a dead man. Well not any more. Of course they would talk. Hopefully it would be brief. It hurt enough hiding it as it was. He didn't want his sister's pity. It was bad enough Mrs Hudson and Gregory knew. His sister knew how to manipulate him into talking and that scared him.
Finally he made his way back to the living room. He couldn't leave Toni there with Sherlock alone for too long. He wasn't exactly the best company if you weren't use to it. When he entered the living room he saw Toni sitting on the sofa staring at the two chairs on the other end of the room. In his usual chair sat Sherlock. Silent as usual, glaring ahead. In John's chair sat someone else. The familiar tone swam through the air. "Good morning, John."
"Good morning, Mycroft."