Shout out to sentaria and Tipear for their help in this chapter, it is greatly appreciated.
Well, I have the next two chapters planned after this but then I'm not sure how I'm going to bring Moriarty back, if their are suggestions I would love to hear them
This chapter was soooo much fun to write, especially now that Sherlock and John are getting like hardcore into John's gift.
Ugh, My favorite.
I love you guys for the reviews, they are just soo yummy.
Okay, enough gushing and appreciation author notes.
On with the story.
Peace&Love
Sophie
John continues to stare in relief, long after Mycroft's car is gone, the cool London air wrapping around the doctor, his head whirling with thoughts and his anger still making his body tense.
Thin arms are suddenly around John, pulling the doctor back into the flat and embracing John simultaneously.
John looks around and notices that he is in the entryway of 221, Sherlock's arms still wrapped around him.
Abruptly, John pushes himself out of the embrace and turns to face the genius.
Sherlock's face is soft and welcoming, relief evident too.
John punches Sherlock in the detective's his good shoulder, forcefully.
"What was that for?" Sherlock ask bewildered, rubbing his shoulder thoughtfully, whilst staring at the doctor.
"You left me alone, to deal with your brother." John spits angrily. Sherlock's face looks amused but his tone is serious.
"I'm sorry, I didn't really think about it. I was trying to get you away from him. Excuse me!" Sherlock huffs, turning and walking up the stairs, his face showing a twinge of hurt and disparage.
"Sherlock, wait." John calls, and follows the detective up the steps and into the flat, John realising that his anger is misplaced. John catches up with the detective in the sitting room, Sherlock keeps walking through, bypassing the settee and the chairs and moving right into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," John calls, "you're right, I'm not angry with you." John says desperately, following Sherlock into the kitchen, the detective flipping on the kettle, foreshadow John's own actions.
"I know." Sherlock resigns leaning against the counter, letting his head fall. John crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around the detective, who reciprocates, completing the embrace.
"Thank you, I couldn't bare to be in that car any longer." John remarks quietly, "I'm very angry with your brother." John appends, nuzzling his head into Sherlock's broad chest.
"That makes two of us." Sherlock is bitter, hopelessly so and John can't blame him, the doctor is feeling the same and much more.
"How did you save me?" John inquires, once the tension from the previous moment is gone and they are both relaxing in each others arms.
"I know a duchess who owned me a favor. I just had Mycroft's boss beckon him." Sherlock deadpans and John is impressed, wholeheartedly so, in fact, it leaves the doctor speechless for a second.
"A duchess?" John finally gasps out. Sherlock lifts a hand and grips John's cheek, the link instantaneous. The detective wastes no time in bringing a memory, the two of them giggling at a crime scene together, the memories exude happiness. A yes.
John smiles and leans into the touch before Sherlock leans down and kisses the doctor, all thoughts going silent, but John pushes appreciation and euphoria into the detective.
"Your welcome, John but stop cheating." John chortles and quiets his emotions, letting the kiss be the one in charge of the emotions surging between them.
Finally they break the kiss, the kettle screaming it's shrill song, laughing John pushes away and goes about making his much deserved tea.
Meanwhile, Sherlock moves into the sitting room, plopping himself upon the settee, waiting for John.
"Motion sickness." Sherlock states randomly.
"What?" John says, walking into the room, already sipping his hot tea, burning his tug in the doctor's earnest.
"For next time, send motion sickness. If you are stuck in something that travels, get sick." John chuckles at the thought and sends a wave into Sherlock.
"Stop that, not now." Sherlock cries and puts a hand up in surrender, John gets rid of the emotion and sits beside the detective on the couch, curling himself into the younger Holmes.
"Sherlock, I hope to god there isn't a next time." John exclaims, "I don't think I could resist killing your brother."
"That makes two of us." Both of them look at each other and burst out laughing.
For months, nothing happens, Mycroft has become busy with one thing or another and John has finally forgiven the politician. Not before several screaming matches between the two of them and occasionally even between Sherlock, John and the politician.
No, now John and Mycroft are on decent terms but that doesn't mean John wants a solitary visit with the politician anytime soon, most definitely not.
Not even Moriarty has surfaced again, Sherlock, and John too, are sitting on edge. The doctor and his detective knowing that something big is coming.
Despite that all, John and Sherlock have continued life as normal. They've even grown closer because of the whole Mycroft ordeal, taking experiments farther and their code has become more in depth.
Sometimes, John would come home from the surgery and Sherlock will have another emotional code that the two of them would sit for the rest of the night learning and mastering, making it ready and applicable to real life situations. It reminds the ex-soldier of battle plans. Going over the maps and orders multiple times so that one is prepared for the actual fight.
With each new emotional code, their ritual is the same, they spend time mastering it between them, John sending the code and Sherlock interpreting it right so he can almost effectively read John's mind.
There is only one emotional code they haven't done this to, and that's the one they've label as "Mycroft."
They both happily agreed that Mycroft emotional code is annoying irritation. It was an easy decision really and hardly needed any practice.
In all honesty, John should really thank the politician, without Mycroft blatant interference, Sherlock and John wouldn't have realised the importance of an accurate and detailed emotional code and they wouldn't be this far along.
Now, John can push emotions with twinges of other emotions to convey something more detailed. For example, the doctor would push thoughts of happiness for yes with twists of other emotions to convey more to the yes. Like if Sherlock asks John to buy more milk while the older man is out shopping, the doctor would reply with happiness but add a twist of resentment that says, "Just this once," or "Fine, but you owe me."
Not that John encourages Sherlock to push thoughts to convey his personal shopping list, that would anger John greatly.
Mostly this aspect comes in handy with annoying Mycroft to the extent that he doesn't stay long when he comes around the flat, because the two of them don't talk out loud in front of them, there isn't a need.
Other than that, the doctor has learned, thanks to the detective's help, how to control the pushing of the emotions. John now knows how much pressure to add to an emotion in order to cause sleep or in a few cases a slight coma. John has put Sherlock into a coma twice, it wasn't the doctor's fault the first time, they were experimenting and the ex-soldier didn't know the line/boundary then. Sherlock slept briefly before John found him in his mind palace and tore him out of the coma.
The second time, however, may have been a little bit more malicious. Sherlock, on a case binge, hadn't sleep for days and the detective's mood was worsening. It really was an accident even though the intent a little premeditated, John really was just trying to calm the detective down enough where Sherlock could find some hours of slumber. John thought he pulled out quick enough but it wasn't until Sherlock had slept for twelve hours straight before John realised he was probably in a coma. John contemplated pulling the detective out then, but instead, based on the genius's exhaustion, let Sherlock go for another ten hours.
Sherlock was pissed when John finally enter the corporeal throne room and grabbed the genius.
however, John was forgive quickly when, after overcoming his sleepiness, Sherlock was able to communicate that he had solved the case in his mind palace, thanks to the doctor.
From then on, John was a lot more cautious and now he knows the line with a very distinctive clarity. He knows how to calm someone very deeply so they enter sleep themselves and he knows how to instill a coma, but most importantly, he knows where the line starts and stops.
His gift is getting very powerful and the thought scares John. The doctor wonders idly a lot about what would happen if he took a negative emotion and pushed someone to the same line he can produces comas at. What would happened if he pushed someone to such fury? What kind of violence would happen?
Sherlock, of course wants to test it. John adamantly refuses and eventually adds it as a another rule, which causes Sherlock to drop the subject. John also added a rule about the effects of calming people into comas.
(Rule #11; Creating comas are purely for self-preservation, not harm. Rule#12, pushing negative emotions upon someone is strictly prohibited.)
The past months have been good to the doctor and his detective, John's gift just keep growing and growing and Sherlock is supportive, well as supportive as a Holmes can be, but mostly Sherlock just revels in the fact that he rarely has to speak out loud.
In fact, John and the genius have gotten so good at their emotional code that between the detective asking questions and John answering with emotions, the two of them can have a conversation without speaking.
Kind of a scary thought.
John and Sherlock where in the middle of such a conversation when they enter Scotland Yard, finding a cold case for Sherlock who is steadily driving John crazy with all of his thoughts proclaiming boredom every five seconds.
It is between a cold case or cold blooded murder.
"What if they are boring?"
John raises an eyebrow and sends a bout of unhappiness and irritation. "You know that's not true, you'll solve them all. Don't be difficult."
"John," Sherlock's voice whines.
John shakes his head and sends another bout of sadness and then a twinge of defiance. "No, shut up, we are doing this."
John picks up his pace, putting himself in front of Sherlock, wanting to get to the DI's office ahead of Sherlock to prove a point.
The detective huffs, but follows close behind.
John raises his hand to knock on Lestrade door but before his knuckles hit the frame, Sherlock's hand is around the knob and forcing his way into the DI's office without warning.
John sends a ripple of disgust and frustration. "You could knock, this is rude."
Sherlock ignores the doctor and enters the office with an exasperated yell from Lestrade.
"Calm down, Lestrade, I'm here to help you with your cold cases." Sherlock says disinterestedly, plopping himself dramatically into a chair opposite the older man's desk, letting his arms cross petulantly. "And it's practically against my own will, by the way."
John chuckles out loud at Sherlock's thought. The doctor transmits suspicion, arrogance and smugness to Sherlock. "You are such a liar, you've been dying for something stimulating for days."
"Yeah, but not boring cold cases, John." The detective looks at John quickly with a scoff before turning back to the DI, whipping out his mobile in the process.
"Good Morning Lestrade," John says pleasantly, walking towards the DI and shaking his hand. "Sorry about him," John says pointing a finger at the now texting detective.
"Don't worry, I'm use to it." Lestrade replies sending a quick glance in Sherlock's direction.
"Yeah," John starts and then whispers, "this is why we can't have nice things." Lestrade erupts in laughter and John follows.
"Are the two of you going to just stand there making fun of me or are we actually going to solve some murders." John casts a sideways glance to Sherlock, who hasn't moved, not even his head.
John directs smugness and suspicion to the genius. "So you do want cases?"
"Shut up John." John chuckles again before bringing his full attention back to the DI who didn't notice a thing in his laughing fit.
"So, Greg, how's Mycroft?" The DI wipes tears from his eyes and proceeds sits down behind his desk, gesturing for the doctor to take a seat too. John complies and crosses his legs comfortably.
"What are you doing? Are you making small talk on purpose?"
The doctor pointedly ignores the detective and gazes at Lestrade with an acute listening pose.
"We are good, very good. You two on good terms again?" Lestrade asks nonchalantly. The Inspector doesn't know the full details of the tiff between the three of them and that's on purpose but the DI isn't a complete idiot, somethings can't go unnoticed.
"Yes, we are okay. Until he tries to manipulate me again." John remarks honestly, Lestrade doesn't take offense and chuckles in agreement.
"I don't even want to know what it would feel like working underneath him. He would be a scary boss." Lestrade states conversationally, a little chuckle in his voice.
"I'm sure that's not true, I'm pretty sure that Lestrade loves working underneath him."
John almost lurches forward and has to hold in the exasperated snort at Sherlock's uncharacteristic lewd comment.
A stream of shocked bewilderment with a twist of bashfulness are sent forcibly, "I can't believe you just said that. That's gross. That's your brother."
John sees the near invisible shrug in Sherlock's shoulders as the detective focus, once again, on his mobile.
"I can't imagine," John tries to respond but it comes out slightly weak and John hopes his cheeks don't flush with embarrassment.
Gratefully, Sherlock decides to finally speak, out loud this time.
"Bored. DO you have a case or don't you?" Sherlock demands grumpily.
Lestrade raises and eyebrow at John and the doctor just returns it with a slight shake of the head.
A knock echoes the room suddenly, both John and Lestrade look towards the open door.
"Donovan."
"Hello Donovan." John calls to the open door, sensing her mind before actually seeing the Sargent.
"Come in, Sally." Lestrade says and the woman enters the room hesitant. In her hands she grips a cold case box with a file on top.
"Anderson's on his way up too," Donovan states, walking through the doorway, into the office, the box bulky but manageable.
"Fantastic," John thinks bitterly and looks over to the detective who is just staring at Donovan, his deduction face overtaking his features.
With a dramatic whip of his coat, the genius is up and over to Sally before she even makes it fully into the office.
Sherlock rips the folder off the top of the box and moves to opens it up.
A spurt of displeasure, irritation and forlorn is thrown at Sherlock. "Stop being moody. Bit not good."
Sherlock looks between the doctor, seeing John's expression, and back to Sally. The detective doesn't say anything, but his face softens in her general direction and his movements are less jerky as he sits back down into his chair, silently.
That's the best John is going to get, and he better well appreciated.
Sally and the DI just stare at the exchange, like Sherlock turned into an alien right in front of their eyes.
Sally walks further into the room and sets the box upon Lestrade's desk and then she moves off to the side, leaning against the wall, her eyes staring at the freak opposite.
"John, look at these." Sherlock peers into the file and John stands up, walks over and observes the file over Sherlock's shoulder, the doctor ignores the quizzical looks coming from the Inspector and his Sargent.
The file hosts pictures of the crime scene along with eye-witness accounts, along with information on the victim.
One, Christine Ward, journalist at a controversial newspaper company, she was bludgeoned to death. The autopsy showed no other wounds and the evidence was washed away in the afternoon rain that had occurred earlier in the day. John takes the picture of Ward's mangled body and holds it up to his face.
"Her name is Christine Ward." Lestrade says, oblivious to the fact that John and Sherlock already have this information.
"Yes, yes, Lestrade, we can read, now kindly shut up." Sherlock huffs and John clears his throat, loudly. The detective looks up at him and John shoots him a look, that look. The 'bit not good' look. Not to mention the same disgruntled forlorn floats into Sherlock's brain at the same time.
"Fine, be quiet, please." Sherlock says looking at Lestrade who stares in shock and John nods appreciatively.
John turns to look back at the picture again but Sherlock's thoughts interrupt him.
"Oh, fantastic, Anderson is here." Sure enough, John can sense Anderson's mind coming closer.
John sends a wave of calm and pride. "Please be nice."
"No promises." John sighs.
"Anderson," Sally says as soon as the forensic tech gets within vision.
"Freak, I see you've got the Ward case. Tricky one that is." Anderson states,
"His mere presence is lowering IQ, John." The detective whines.
John reiterates by sending calm and pride, he adds a bit of pleading into the mix. "Please, be nice."
"There was no evidence, I still think it was one of the people she wrote a story about. Journalism can be brutal." Anderson states conversationally.
"Nice."
"Fine," Sherlock mutters out and rolls his eyes, "You are wrong, again, it's not a subject of one of her articles, the crime is hesitant, an accident, it's in a bright part of town. If it was someone from her articles they wouldn't be hesitant nor would they be in an area so public, alleyways would be there thing, they would have had a plan. No, she was meeting someone and that's when they killed her. Honestly, Anderson it's not hard if you actually open your eyes." Sherlock states. It's not as harsh as he could have been but it's not exactly nice.
John sends a wave of disappointment.
"What? That was nice." Sherlock huffs indignantly. John just turns back to the picture, examining the bruises.
"Blunt force trauma?" Sherlock questions after a few minutes, John sends a wave of happiness but then adds on confusion.
"Yes, but there are bruises on her hands." John puts the picture in front of the detective's face, pointing to the areas of the body that indicate the starting of bruises, the traces of the first stage are almost invisible to John and they would be completely transparent to the untrained eye.
"Autopsy said that there were no other markings of wounds, just the fatal blow."
Another stream of confusion and then a twist of curiosity. "Why would the pathologist lie?"
"Corrupted forensics?" Sherlock is on the same thought line as the doctor.
John sends caution and then happiness. "Probably."
John brushes a hand across Sherlock's as he pretend to reach for another picture. Really, he is watching Sherlock's images as they run rampant trying to deduce.
The connection last a second but John already has an idea of where the detective is going with this case. When the doctor pulls his hand away, he stares absentmindedly at another picture, this one of her wedding ring.
"The pathologist, the man who did her autopsy, he was her lover, secret of course. Boring."
John sends shock and pride. "Really?"
"Positive."
John sends excitement with a mix of smug pride. "All right, let them have it."
"It was the forensic pathologist." Sherlock smirks, folding up the file and slapping it on Lestrade's desk.
"What?" Anderson blurts out. "It can't be, Miller is a good man."
"Is that man also not working here anymore, maybe perhaps moved to the continent?" Sherlock questions innocently.
"Well...yes...but he has family there." Anderson blabbers stupidly.
Sherlock scoffs and opens his mouth to say something. John sends a wave of caution and the detective closes his mouth. "Nice."
"Sherlock," Lestrade says pinching the bridge of his nose. "How can you possibly know that?"
"After all of this time Lestrade, you still ask me that question." Sherlock states sadly. "The rings, look at the rings first, I always do."
"She was having an affair, what is it with the victims of London and their affairs?" Sherlock questions out loud and John chuckles.
"Okay, but that doesn't explain why the Yard's forensic pathologist is the lover." Sally intercedes, her smile smug.
"Oh Sally," Sherlock starts looking over at her, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"John pointed out to me that the victim had the start of various bruises all over her body, her arms and legs. They are defensive bruises and based on the hand width and the height of the ones on her chest, you are looking for a man approximately 1.8 m in height, with a hand width of about 180mm give or take. I bet if you looked Miller's employment file you would find that these parameters match perfectly."
"Yeah, but so does half of Europe!" Anderson exclaims.
"Yes," Sherlock starts, really trying to hold in his sneer and he fails, "but half of Europe doesn't have access to autopsies reports, let alone the means and knowledge to pull off a murder and get away with it." Sherlock is standing now, his full height straight and his stance ready, intimidating the forensic tech.
John puts a hand on Sherlock's back and directs caution and a bit of calm into the detective's mind. Sherlock's body relaxes, not visibly, not enough for any of the Yarders to notice.
"This is all circumstantial." Donovan states, throwing her hands up in the air, and Lestrade nods slowly in agreement.
"She has a datebook," Sherlock inquiries. John raises his eyebrows, rushing confusion and wonder into the genius.
"Oh come now, John. What successful woman in London doesn't have a datebook? Common sense." Sherlock scoffs petulantly and John lowers his head, trying to hide a smile
John eyes the box and Sally opens the lid, pulling out a dusty, evidence bag-wrapped diary, she hands it to John who opens the bag carefully and pulls the diary out, handing it to Sherlock.
The genius flips through the date book, muttering to himself. John sees the pages fly by in rapid motion as Sherlock catalogs the addresses and lunch dates. The detective stops thumbing through the pages, staring at a single page in front of him.
"There." Sherlock says slamming the book on the table. All of the occupants of the office loom over the blank page.
"It's blank?" Anderson says and John scans the page and notices it right away.
"It's not blank, there are initials and some numbers next to it at the bottom. E.M." John talks before Sherlock took the brief silence to jump on Anderson idiocy.
"What an idiot." Sherlock rolls his eyes again.
John sends a stream of amusement and agreement. "I totally agree."
"Ed Miller." Sally says quietly and Anderson glares at her for speaking the name.
"So what are the numbers?" Lestrade asks.
"Book code."
"It's a book code," John say out loud, at the same time Sherlock thought it. John has seen a book code before and he recognises it, plus what else could it be, really.
Sherlock stares at him impressed, John smiles sheepishly back, whilst sending a rush of smug confidence. "That's right, I know things."
The detective chuckles and peers into the box, his hand disappearing as the genius digs for something inside.
"Great, how do we find out which book it is?" Lestrade says, moving away from the date book and sliding into his office chair, irritated.
A slam catches the attention of the Yarders plus John. A very worn, old copy of Jane Eyre lays a top Lestrade's messy desk.
"This is the book." Sherlock states.
"How can you be sure?" Anderson questions, the man is even getting on the doctor's nerves.
"It's obvious, this book is her most prized possession, it's worn but it's a first edition, it's been read over and over again but it's be taken care of, the binding has been replaced more than once." Sherlock states, thumbing and examining the book with care before flipping open and following the code.
John reads the detective's mind but looks over the genius's shoulder for pretenses.
The first bracket of numbers find the word Edward. "Edward," John states, scribbling down the word on a scrap piece of paper.
The next, Sherlock thumbs through and finds the world Miller. "Miller," John adds to the paper.
The next bracket is the word zero. "The number zero," a scribble.
The next, two, "The number two," John states,
The next is another zero. "Another zero,"
The doctor and his detective continue the pattern as the code goes on to reveal a whole blower number, that John hypothesises is associated with the Yard.
"Do I need to explain it anymore?" Sherlock asks, flinging the book onto the desk with ease, The Yarders stare in shock at the sight, completely unbelieving at the bombshell. Not only did the genius figure out the cold case but he pointed the finger and found evidence to back it up, at one of the Yard's respected employees, even a friend to three/fifths of the people in the room.
"This was all terribly fun but I'm bored." and with that the detective stands up straight and walks out of the office with a smug smile and a "Come along, John."
"What in the bloody hell was that, John?" Lestrade exasperates, John looks at the DI who stares at him, along with Anderson and Donovan who gaze in bewilderment.
"Brilliant, right?" John asks, moving to the office door, following Sherlock's exit, in a less dramatic fashion of course.
"No, not that, that's usual." Sally states, "The freak is always like that." John holds his tongue, he doesn't want to snap at Donovan but he will if she keeps calling Sherlock a freak.
"I'm talking about how the both of you just solved that case together without talking." Lestrade's face is red with confusion.
Uh-oh, the conversations are so mainstream and normal that sometimes the doctor forgets they aren't speaking aloud, a rookie mistake.
"Sherlock is teaching me how to read...expressions, the way he does." John lies nonchalantly, shrugging to add conviction. The three Yarders stare, their mouths agape.
"You are turning into him?" Greg inquires.
"No, no, I'm just learning a few things, it was our test run." John adds, piling on the lies and Greg seems to relax.
"Good, for a second I thought..." The DI starts.
"Thought what?" John questions, timidly, not sure he he wants to know.
"That he could read your mind or something." John laughs, Oh Lestrade, you couldn't be anymore backwards.
"A telepath? Pssh, that's a bit cliche, don't you think?" John snickers looking around the room at the faces. Sally and Anderson join in with a chuckle while Lestrade just smirks.
"It would explain a lot, plus I don't know what to think about Sherlock anymore." The DI states, grinning.
"Neither do I Greg, neither do I." and with that John shakes the DI's hand and follows the detective out, sending waves of relief and irritation to the detective.
That was too close, way too close.
"So how do you think will they find him?" John asks the detective once the doctor catches up with him, now they are both standing outside of Scotland Yard trying to hail a cab.
"They won't find him, John."
The doctor sends confusion, "Why not?"
"If they prove that he is the murderer, think of all the cases he worked on, ones where he was truthful."
John sends understanding, "Every case the man ever worked on would have to be re-opened and maybe even go through court again."
"Hours and hours of man power and money the NSY doesn't have." John smiles sadly, the fact that a killer can go free is not exactly reassuring.
"It's for the best though," Sherlock thoughts add. "However, I do think that Mycroft might take care of it somehow, Greg might mention it when he is underneath him." The genius smirks mildly.
John smacks Sherlock in his arm and stalks away, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Sherlock just laughs and catches John in an embrace.
"I'm very partial to the color of your cheek, Dr. Watson."
They forget about trying to hail and cab and instead, snog in front of NSY.
For all you Mycroft Lovers, In the next chapter or so, the boys are going to get themselves into trouble and Mycroft is going to come to the rescue via, John's powers.
Dun Dun Dun.
Also special thanks to two very awesome people, one sentaria for their brilliant contribution about the motion sickness, that was very creative.
And also to Tipear, they can up with the idea about the scene between the Yarders and oh my gosh was that fun to write.
I give my thanks and appreciation in hypothetical cookies.
Peace&Love
Sophie