"Knots" Sherlock breathes suddenly, gasping at the physical and mental jolt that occurs when the solution finally clicks in his mind. He is sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around his legs, holding on tightly.
"What's up? Sherlock? Worked something out?"
The brunet flicks his head over towards the source of the sound to find his doctor sitting at the table in the living area, two pointed fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop. "Shoe laces. The laces, John! They weren't tied from behind, someone did the knot from the front. We need to see the feet again. I knew there was something! Stupid! It wasn't the brother at all!"
"Ah, right. Well Molly is doing the autopsy in the morning, we should get in touch-" he cuts himself off as Sherlock holds his phone out to his general direction without any comment, expectation hangs heavy in the room.
John stands stiffly and pauses, letting out a controlled breath before walking over and taking the proffered item. "Tell her we'll be there at 7:30am and that we need to focus on the feet. Look for any injection marks and for damage around the left big toe". He stands too quickly and wobbles on his feet. He feels John grab him around the arm to steady him but he pushes him off, stumbling a little more before regaining his balance. He's fine why would- oh, it's dark outside. He looks John up and down, gazes over to the table and sees that his flatmate has had his dinner. Before he can say something John clarifies the situation.
"You haven't moved in six hours, no wonder your legs are jelly, not that you'd admit that they are. This case has been going on for the last two days and you've been ignoring your body more than usual. You had the other case for four days before this one with about two hours break in between. You haven't slept in days, three I think, and I haven't seen you eat but you must had had something. I'm worried. Frankly I'll be happy when this whole thing is over. Do want some tea? You need water, when was the last time you had some? You look a bit jumpy-"
"-the toe" he murmurs and takes a few steps forward, holding his hand up for John to be quiet. He'd heard what had been said but that wasn't important right now. The older man takes the opportunity to start the text to Molly while Sherlock keeps working this out in the silence he obviously needs.
The room disappears from the detective's vision as he sees in his minds eye some possible tissue damage under the left big toe. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He tries to focus on the image and spends some time going over the crime scene again. "John, what did Molly say? She needs to look carefully. Better than she did with the Harper case, I still haven't forgotten. Did you get that down?". He turns sharply and finds himself face to face with DI Lestrade. "Where's John?" he asks with a slight hint of vulnerability, his body sagging a bit as his eyes flick around.
The greying policeman looks as though he is working up the strength to be clear and somewhat gentle. John must have worded him up on something as soon as he arrived. "Getting changed. We've found another body, looks like the same MO as the Denyson murder. Thought you'd want to come and take a look. John just mentioned that we need to have a look at the other body again, says you've got a lead"
"Yes, the feet. I don't know why I didn't- why are you holding that glass of water?" he asks in one long stream.
At this Lestrade extends his arm with a hint of embarrassment. "Ah, John said that um. Said you're not to leave the flat until you've, you know, had a glass".
The brunet waves a pale hand at the crockery which is moved out of the way just in time not to be knocked to the floor. "Ridiculous! I am not a child. Going by brain power you are all children in relation to me. All I need is my coat and scarf. Period". At this he walks over to the back of the door and begins to put on these items of clothing. As soon as he finishes the other resident steps into the room.
"Ok, I'm right Greg. Jesus, you'd think they'd keep these things to a more reasonable hour for the likes of you and me, hey? 3am".
Sherlock looks down his long nose at John before stating icily "If you've finished wasting time, John, we have a cab to hail"
The smaller man seemed completely unintimidated. "Not until you've had some water. Doctor's orders"
"We're leaving, I can look after myself. I do not require micromanagement!"
John steps forward with purpose, tone firm. "We'll leave after you've had some water. You sat there for over six hours without moving! Then you've been pacing around here for a fair chunk of time and don't get me started about the fact you've barely stopped in a whole six days. I don't think you'd even realised I'd gone upstairs or that Greg had arrived. You haven't eaten in 48 hours at least but I suspect it's more. If you want to go, have the water then we'll get moving. Otherwise Greg will have to have a look at the body by himself. I'm not above cuffing you to something here until you sleep. Doctor and soldier remember. I'll look after you but I'm happy to be creatively resourceful to do that".
Sherlock had an ugly look on his face, he eyeballed the blond who returned the ferocity of the stare with added interest. This man was infuriating, Sherlock thought. He should be angry with him for getting in the way, he's preventing The Work! But a part of him knew that he was right and one drink wouldn't take long and they could get going. Once this case was over he needed to update his Mind Palace with more John Watson information. He truly was the most intriguing puzzle.
In the end the detective snatched the glass that was being held out to him, spilling a bit onto the rug. He gulped the water down, realising blatantly that he was in fact thirsty but he wouldn't give either of the men the satisfaction of that knowledge. He threw the item onto one of the armchairs. "Well come on!" he snaps as he rushes down the staircase, itching to get out there and away from any smug expressions that could arise.
"Sometimes I wonder if you were sent down to protect him. And I'm not even religious" Greg admits with respectful look which gives way to one of humour. After all the things he'd seen with Sherlock over the years he can't believe that finally he is accepting some advice and assistance especially in regards to his health.
The shorter man is about to respond when they hear "Hurry, John!" called up the stairs with gusto.
"There's my cue" John remarks, with a satisfied smile. "Don't worry" he reassures with a small nod "I'm looking after him".
A/N: Thanks everyone for reading. These drabbles seem to be getting bigger! I'm happy to take requests for this story if you have something that you'd like to read. Reviews/feedback are appreciated :)