First off - I apologise profusely for not updating this in awhile. The fault lies entirely with me. Though we both have been extremely busy.
Secondly - This fic is now over a year old! Jesus. I don't think we intended to go on for this long.
Thirdly - Enjoy.
Upon entering the flat his existence was pretty much ignored. Sherlock was exactly where he had left him, deep inside his mind palace no doubt. Though thinking about what this time John didn't have the foggiest. Thinking it was best to leave him to it John picked up his laptop and made his way to his room. If he was needed then Sherlock would figure out where to find him. He had his phone on him anyway.
The flight of stairs leading to his room were easier to climb that the ones up to the flat. Though he still had that horrid feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hated to be ignored, even if he did understand the reason why, by Sherlock. He still felt like they needed to talk about everything considering the amount of time they had had to themselves since the entire fiasco of Sherlock's return had occurred. Was it really too much to ask for a single night to themselves just to talk about everything? Even if Sherlock did find it tedious he should understand it was what John needed. It would probably make him feel worse afterwards. Being allowed to have a conversation, to get use to everything, would most likely bring him false hope and he couldn't let his stupid feelings get the better of him. Not when it concerned Sherlock. He didn't want to ruin their friendship.
Typing away on his laptop John wrote the things he felt like he couldn't say. The private section of his blog was slowly gathering posts, much more than his normal blog that the public got to see. Though if they managed to get hold of the things in his private one then they'd more than likely have a field day. That or pity him and if there was one thing he didn't need it was their pity. John's mobile gave a buzz, taking him away from him train of thought before he went to check it.
Transportation will arrive by 15:00. Everything is in place. Be ready. Precautions are being made to stop anybody following you all. -MH
Rolling his eyes John clicked the save button on his post before closing the laptop. It was twelve now. Meaning it had been two hours since Mycroft arrived and left. Hadn't taken him long at all. It was best to go and inform Sherlock of the details.
Heaving himself up John began to make his way towards the door and back downstairs. Sherlock was still exactly where he had left him. John had to hand it to the man that when he wanted to actually stay still he definitely did. Choosing to sit down in his chair he waited until he was comfortable before saying anything to Sherlock. Tearing him away from his mind palace hadn't always been a pleasant experience in the past; it often left him faced with a grouchy man who was determined to act like a five year old.
Whenever John was allowed to watch Sherlock think he always tried to attempt to memorise the moments. Sherlock, once deep inside his mind palace, relaxed. His facial features became somewhat soft and the posture, he had obviously spent ages perfecting, seemed to slouch slightly. It was as if he was somewhat at peace inside of whatever his palace looked like. John wished he could at least catch a glimpse of what it would look like. Even if just for one simple moment. He knew he wouldn't ever be able to, and that was okay as long as he got to see Sherlock in his relaxed state. It was as if all the barriers he had put up were weakened for one second and he was vulnerable. Sherlock would deny it until the cows came home, John mused but he knew Sherlock a bit better than he knew himself at times. Sherlock couldn't fool him. Not any more.
Finally realising he couldn't continue to stare at Sherlock any longer John cleared his throat, hoping that would gain Sherlock's attention. As usual it did not. Sighing John leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms upon his knees. "Sherlock."
It did not work. John really didn't want to do the next thing but he knew it would be the only thing that would work. Picking himself out of his chair he walked over to Sherlock and leaned in close to the man's ear. He couldn't resist inhaling as he did so, the familiar smell of lavender and honey wafting into his nostrils. He hated how the smell caressed him, making him itch for more. He couldn't have more, he knew that. He had to stop himself from doing anything to Sherlock he would definitely later regret. One more sniff was not worth ruining his friendship with Sherlock, no matter how bloody good the man smelt. Kicking himself mentally he remembered how close he was to Sherlock's head and whispered quietly. "Norbury."
As soon as he said it Sherlock turned his gaze to him immediately, causing John to step back so it wouldn't seem too awkward for him to be that close. Trust that to be the one thing that bloody worked, he thought bitterly.
"Yes, John?"
"Mycroft text me," he replied. Why text he didn't know, though no doubt Sherlock would have figured that out by now. "He's sorted everything out for three."
"Everything for three?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I had hoped for earlier, but I shall... I can put the extra time to use."
"To use?" John cocked his head and leaned against the desk. He looked over the detective's face, now guarded and careful. His lips were no longer slightly parted, which John missed. Sherlock's lips were exquisite.
Sherlock rolled out of the seat and with one fluid movement crossed the room. He seemed to have ignored John's question, which was rather frustrating.
John followed Sherlock, feeling his leg twinge as he put too much pressure on it. The detective may be back, but not everything had healed. He had not had time to heal.
Sherlock darted down the stairs and out of the front door. Once John had reached him, he had already hailed a taxi and was just about to climb in.
"Hurry, John." He smiled, "Molly will be pleased to see us."
John climbed into the taxi on the other side of Sherlock and looked out of the window as they sped through London.
Sherlock opened the door as the cab slowed by the side of the hospital. John winced, he hated this place still.
"Why are we here?" John asked.
Sherlock smirked, "I need to test a theory."
"A theory?" Frowned John, Sherlock had had all morning to test out his blasted theories. Heck he could have done them at home as they waited for Mycroft to come and pick up Toni but no. He wasn't even sure why he had to go with him to test out this bloody theory. It wasn't like he did before. At least he couldn't set the kitchen table on fire again.
Instead of replying to him Sherlock headed into the hospital, taking the familiar route towards the lab; John followed after him, reluctant to break the silence again. In a way it was better than the talking, easier for him to think. The talking reminded him of everything that wasn't right between them currently, how they had hardly had time to smooth over the wounds before everything started up again. If only it had started with a simple case but no, it had to be one that triggered off the psychopath that was Sebastian Moran. Plus they had already had the fire department to the flat. As soon as Toni was safely secured at Harry's he was calling Gregory and going out to the pub for a much needed drink.
When they entered the lab John say Molly sitting at one of the work stations, numerous petri dishes out for her inspected. He swore he saw her hide her mobile; clearly the boyfriend again. "Hello Molly," he smiled faintly, going over to lean against one of the side counters. "Sorry to intrude again."
"Hello John. Sherlock," she beamed, placing her petri dish to one side. "You aren't intruding at all. Actually I had been expecting you." Looking down at her wrist she frowned slightly. "Though I had expected you slightly later than this, Sherlock."
Sherlock smiled at her, a gesture that would have been sweet had it not been from him. "Sorry about that, but an idea just occurred to me."
Molly nodded and pulled a clipboard over to her. She scanned it, running her freshly painted, baby blue nails over the paper as she counted down. "Here. Mr Ja- Ju- um... Number 58. He was meant to be used for a teach, but that got postponed and we can't keep him. Do you want me to... Fetch him?"
Sherlock nodded. Molly got up and darted from the room, pulling her phone from her pocket as she did so. John had noticed a slight smudge to her pink lipstick; the boyfriend had been here recently.
Sherlock turned to John and looked him over. "When was the last time you shaved?"
John raised a hand to his stubble covered chin and realised what Sherlock was talking about. His beard was growing, looking less like stubble and more like an actual beard. "Can't you tell me?" John raised an eyebrow.
"Of course I can. Six days ago, at seven in the morning." Sherlock said sharply. "I just thought it'd be politer to ask."
"Not like you," John scoffed to himself. From the look Sherlock gave him he had clearly heard but, for once, was making the wise decision by not commenting on it. "I just haven't had time recently. What with everything going on."
"You have had plenty of time. In the past few days there has been numerous occasions w-"
"Well maybe it hasn't been my top priority. It's just a beard, Sherlock. I'll shave it off tomorrow." Taking a deep breath John tried to calm down. He was getting unnecessarily angry and he knew that. Sherlock was just not making it easy. So he hadn't shaved in a while. In the last three years there had been times he didn't shave for weeks. Not that he hadn't wanted to, his soldier instincts screaming at him to pull himself together. Life went on but if he forgot to shave it didn't matter. He was allowed that at least. "Why are we here anyway? You said you had a theory."
Nodding Sherlock walked over to one of the cabinets and began to search through it. "If I am correct, and I am certain I will be, then we shall be back in time to accompany Toni and your sister back to Harry's. Mycroft's safety procedures, though handy, are insufferable."
John nodded, remembering his own meetings with that man, ones that he wished had been a lot shorter and a lot less frequent. Something about him had reminded him of a twisted Sherlock, and John had often shied away from the man's presence during the absence of the younger Holmes brother. "Okay."
"I must say, John." Sherlock muttered while placing various coloured liquids and powders on the desk in front of him, "you have been seriously overworked these last few days... Perhaps, I should allow you some time alone."
John watched Sherlock's careful face, a mask behind which the monumental intellect hid. John felt a lump in his throat rise, he hadn't meant to upset Sherlock and he hadn't meant to snap. But, Sherlock had offered him some time out, maybe the pint with Greg wasn't such a farfetched idea. "I, I'll call Greg later, see if he wants to go out."
Sherlock's mask slipped for a second and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Greg will be pleased; he still thinks you haven't forgiven him."
"I have." John said quietly, watching Sherlock take a seat and mix various amounts of one thing and another. John always thought of this bit as the most... Intimate time to be around Sherlock, his mask fell and his frustration and joy shone through as he experimented. He thought that was probably why he'd allowed Sherlock to do so many balmy experiments at home.
"Ah." Sherlock mumbled, peering down at what seemed to be some sort of muddy slime.
The muddy slime thing looked disgusting and even if John couldn't figure out what the hell it was meant to do to the cadaver Molly would wheel in soon he was sure it make sense to Sherlock somehow. Stealing a glance at his watch he realised it was only half past twelve. Hopefully they would get home for one. He could make some lunch for himself and the girls; he could even try and get Sherlock to eat though he didn't have any hopes for that. John pulled out his phone as Sherlock began to look around the lab again.
Do you and Toni want to have lunch upstairs with me when I get back? – JW
Sure. Though there isn't anything in your fridge. – HW
I'll go to ASDA or something on the way back. – JW
Alrighty, Johnny boy. Don't let your boyfriend keep you there too long. – HW
Rolling his eyes John wanted to text back that Sherlock wasn't actually his boyfriend but there really wasn't any point. She wouldn't listen to him anyway. The doors to the lab opened, pulling John from his thoughts, and revealed Molly pushing in the cadaver number 58. The man had obviously been in his late forties and was partial to eating. From what John could see he also liked to take care of his nail; not that that made any difference now, considering Sherlock was going to be smothering him in goo or something.
"Ah thank you, Molly!" Sherlock beamed, his head turning to her general direction. Walking over to cadaver Sherlock unscrewed the lid on the jar and poured the slimy substance onto number 58's chest. After staring at it for a while Sherlock stood up straight, placing his hands behind his back. "If you could, Molly, monitor the body over the course of the next five hours until you leave work. Text me with hourly updates and in the morning report back to me again."
"Okay, Sherlock," Molly smiled, jotting down notes on a clipboard. "Will that be everything?"
"Yes, I believe so." Sherlock made his way toward the door making John follow suit.
"Goodbye, Molly," John said, stopping slightly to talk to her. "Have fun on your date tonight."
Her eyes going wider Molly stared at John for a second before allowing her smile to creep back onto her face. "I will, John, thanks. Goodbye."
Hurrying back after Sherlock they walked together in silence until they were finally situated in a taxi. Though instead of ordering it to return to back to Baker Street John asked it to take them to the shop nearest to them, much to Sherlock's annoyance. The resulting argument ending in John agreeing to allow Sherlock to experiment on the kitchen table when they got back later that evening. John was almost regretting bringing Sherlock along with shopping though. The man was rambling on about brands and 'unnecessary' food items John had put in the basket.
Peace only returned when they reached the check out. "John, how did you know Molly had a date tonight?"
"She had painted her nails recently," John said absently as he scanned a loaf of bread. As much as he loathed the self-checkout it was quicker. "Plus the calendar on her calendar said she had a hair appointment after work. Why else would she be getting her hair done so late if she didn't have a date?"
Humming in agreement Sherlock attempting to repack the items for the fifth time. "You have improved."
On the way home John managed to get Sherlock to carry one of the bags somehow. They still had two hours until Mycroft's team arrived for Toni but at least they could have something to eat before then.