Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 158
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Part II
"But ne'er the rose without the thorn." ~Robert Herrick
Present Day
Sherlock sighed again and looked at his watch.
"Emotions are so easily manipulated," Sherlock whispered to himself. "Experiment complete."
With a taxicab at this time of the day, taking walking time into account, and Johns "get the job done" nature; it would still be closer to an hour and twenty-five minute, give or take five minutes.
Last time the store was called, there were only two coats in Sherlock's size and one coat should have been put up for John by a clerk who owed Sherlock a favor.
Sherlock felt a twinge of guilt. He never felt much emotion at all before John, much less such an inconvenient emotion as guilt. At least he never acknowledged them.
Sherlock frowned slightly from pain as he squirmed on the couch.
Maybe he had produced a sniffle or two, however everything he said was sincere, Sherlock reasoned. Sherlock justified himself with the fact that, he had not lied once, and in fact was planning to tell John the whole truth.
After, John gave him his coat, of course.
Well, John would be angry but forgive him. Of course, he would have to be very "Un-Sherlock like" for three days with this level of offense.
Sherlock squirmed more.
Well, what did they expect, he was bored. Not bored, bored to tears!
It was this little experiment, or the walls, and John locked his gun up anyway after the last incident.
A thought suddenly occurred to Sherlock.
Sherlock briefly wondered which combination John changed the gun-safe to. No matter, he would figure it out; John was if nothing else, predictable.
Sherlock suddenly dismissed the thought.
Sherlock wondered if he should confess to John while he limped bringing him coffee in the morning, no sugar this time. Maybe if he held his ribs, John would not actually kill him.
It did really hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt.
"Yoo-hoo, I'll be right up with some food and tea dear," Mrs. Hudson's voice traveled up the stairs.
As Sherlock closed his eyes, suddenly tired, he felt… what, happy?
Yes, Sherlock thought, he was happy. Sherlock use to not feel. Now he felt, and was feeling happy to know he had a family. Mycroft was family connected by blood. Other members like Mrs. Hudson and others were family connected by something else, something just as strong if not stronger. It was something of the heart.
Above all, Sherlock was glad to have a friend like John.
Of course, he would never confess this out loud. He had a reputation to consider.
Well, maybe he would tell John. Sherlock thought for a moment. Of course, he would tell John.
Yes, Sherlock decided as he stifled a yawn feeling suddenly tired with closing eyes, John was a saint.
John walked outside and hailed a taxi. He was glad that despite everything Sherlock was doing better and getting more back to himself every day. A taxi came up and John climbed effortlessly into the back seat. He called off an address and sat back searching the internet on his phone as the cab gently bumped and rocked while driven.
Sherlock was trying so hard to get him to the store; John did not have the heart to tell Sherlock that he had already gotten him the coat, and had hidden it in Mrs. Hudson's flat.
John would have to pretend to be angry of course. That should give him two or three days of good behavior from Sherlock. Well, as good as Sherlock's behavior ever became.
Knowing Sherlock, he had calculated the speed, wind projection, or some such nonsense to figure out how long it would take him to get the coat, John mused as he smiled.
John supposed that he had an hour and a half. He would need to occupy himself in the mean time. Sherlock was if nothing else, predictable.
John put his phone to his ear as his other hand rested in his coat pocket, "Hello, Mary…"
***Sherlock's Back! Be warned all of mankind! ***
A/N: I heard Sherlock and John having his conversation in my imagination. I could not get this one out of my head so I am afraid you get to suffer. I hope it was ok.
Tell me what you think.