Title: Making the Connection
Story Summary: A non-chronological collection of short chapters based on one word prompts, includes (pre-)slash for Johnlock & Mystrade
Chapter Summary: John hurts Sherlock without even noticing it. Lestrade's POV. Prompt: Rainy
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Moffat, Gatiss & SACD.
A/N: This is the daily prompt from oneword(dot)com. I have to admit I didn't find it all that inspiring so I decided to share one of the plot bunnies with you that has been running around my head ever since I re-watched Scandal. Also: This is the last chapter for this week, because I'm going on a spa weekend with my mum. I'll be back with new chapters on Monday.
It's one of those cases that is both, rather high-profile and pretty tricky, so I have no other choice than to call in Sherlock and John. Something seems to be off between the two, but I can't really put my finger on it.
We're in the morgue and both of them lean over the body of Julia Stoner now, Sherlock with his ever present magnifier and John with his trained medical eye. That's when the bickering continues that I interrupted when I came to fetch them from Baker Street.
"Do people actually read your blog?", Sherlock asks.
I open my mouth to interfere, but close it again without saying a word. It's between the two of them, none of my business.
"Where do you think our clients come from?", is John's counter question, a hint of irritation in his voice. It's understandable, since he actually has quite a lot of readers by now, but I still shoot him an uneasy glance. I have an idea where this might be going and I don't like it.
"I have a website", Sherlock replies quickly and I can hear a bit of pride in his words, because he has put a lot of time and work into that thing. Oh, this is so not going to end well.
"In which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash." John's tone is matter of fact, tinted with the slightest trace of irony. I can tell that Sherlock hears it, too, because he looks up from the body, right at John who delivers the final blow with the precision of a sniper. "Nobody's reading your website."
Sherlock straightens immediately and just glares at John, he squints his eyes ever so slightly and swallows while he simultaneously pouts his lips almost unnoticeably. I've known him for more than five years and I can read his body language by now. I look at him, rub the space between my upper lip and my nose with the thumb of my left hand and take a step towards them. This is exactly where I didn't want this to go.
John hasn't noticed anything and rambles on: "Right then. Dyed blonde hair; no obvious cause of death except for these speckles, whatever they are." By the time he looks up Sherlock has already spun around and leaves the room.
I shoot John a look. Asking him whether that was really necessary, telling him to stay where he is, before I follow Sherlock outside.
"Go away, Lestrade." His strides are long, but I'm used to that so I catch up with him fairly quickly.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock, and you know it." We take an emergency exit door to our left and go outside. It's a rainy July afternoon and we stand there, leaning on opposite walls of the exit. Sherlock turns his face towards the sky and welcomes the little water droplets on his skin. He's silent for a rather long time and when he turns his head to me again the rain on his face looks like tears. I know better, but it still makes me cringe a bit inside.
"How's the whole flatmate thing going for you?" I ask calmly, studying his face and posture.
Sherlock returns my gaze but only grimaces in reply. His hands are still shoved into his pockets, but even through the thick wool of his coat I can see that his fists are clenched.
Suddenly I have a hunch what might be going on between the two and it's so extremely simple. "Hard to get used to it, huh?"
He just nods and I know he doesn't want to admit to having difficulties adjusting to not being constantly alone anymore. That was the whole reason Mycroft and I pushed him into looking for a flat share, to stop him from becoming a complete hermit. He told everybody it was for the money, but I think even John has figured out by now that money has never been of concern to either of the Holmes brothers.
"You know that just because he's standing up to you doesn't mean he thinks any less of you, right?" Sometimes it's easier to understate things with Sherlock, because if you tell him the truth he will think you're exaggerating. People assume they're a couple all the time, but somehow Sherlock doesn't get that it's because of how obvious it is that John likes him, too. A lot.
"Yes, but he also thinks I'm annoying as hell." His eyes harden as he stares intently at the wall next to my head.
That's Sherlock Holmes for you in a nutshell, when it comes to himself he is one of the least observant people I know. It literally takes him years to get that - for some reason he doesn't understand – you like him. Which is why I'm not pointing out that most people he meets find him annoying. But he's trying his best for John and I know he's not one to do that for just anybody. I think I know what he's afraid of.
"True. But Sherlock," I pause until he looks at me again "he won't go anywhere. John needs you just as much as you need him."
His gaze falls to the ground and for just a second I see that young, vulnerable man again that I met half a decade ago. I'm not sure whether he believes my words or not, he opens his mouth to reply, but that's when the emergency door opens and John pops his head out. Seems like he's been looking for us for quite a bit.
"Donovan just called that she needs Sherlock to take a look at what she thinks might be another lead. She can't figure it out." He explains, the satisfaction of bringing Sally to admit that she needs Sherlock is written all over his face.
"Maybe next time I should introduce you as my secretary instead of my colleague? Then you could handle all the stupid people." Sherlock's voice is snide and his body language is back to normal. Usually I'd scowl at him for such a remark, but seeing the expression of injured pride on John's face I decide against it. He deserved that one for hurting Sherlock.