"Sherlock? What brings you down to our humble lab?" Mike Stanfield smiled easily. The tall thin dark haired man shot him a bored look.
"Research."
"Ah, yes. We do have a fresh cadaver in. I was just about to reserve one for a lesson I'm about to-"
"All that sounds painfully interesting but if you'll excuse me."
"You know I'm surprised you're here so often. With half the science equipment you've purchased in the last year or so-"
"Yes, not that its any of your business. I don't really have the room. My flat is rather small."
"Oh, time to maybe trade up. Get something bigger." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh I know London isn't a cheap place to live, but I bet you'd be able to get a bigger flat if you had a flatmate." Sherlock had thought of moving upstairs to 221B, he did need the added room for science equipment. He knew Mycroft would soon give him access to his trust, controlling bastard. He'd use that to cover his rent. The idea of a flatmate was novel really he couldn't help but snort.
"Who would have me for a flatmate." Mike shrugged and the tall dark haired detective swept past the chubby man, lightly tapping his riding crop against his long leg.
"Oh, hello Mike." Molly smiled "Coffee?"
"Oh, you know what Molly it's a bit chilly out but still a nice day I think I'm going to go for a walk in the park and get myself some coffee anywhere but from the cafeteria. " The thin women smiled easily.
"That sounds lovely. I wish I had some free time, but the Yard has been bringing in bodies all hours. Just received another suicide, to bad really it's a young kid barely 18 what a waste."
"Shame. Yes."
"Well it was good seeing you Mike, I'll be sure to put aside one of the cadavers for your students."
"Thanks Molly." Mike was an easy going man, he had a lovely wife whom just gave him a daughter, a beautiful girl they named Violet. He'd just received a raise, and his students this year were absolutely brilliant. He had his thoughts on coffee something anything better than the hospital tar they had in the cafeteria. That's when he thought he saw a familiar face, one he hadn't seen since med school.
"John? John Watson?"
John was walking through the park when someone called his name.
"John? John Watson?"
"It's me Mike Stamford." John examined the chubby man before him, hard to recognize the track athlete now.
"Mike? Sorry I didn't-"
"Yeah I know I got fat." John smiled stiffly, he wasn't in a socializing mood, but Mike was someone he'd always found hard to be impolite towards. So he agreed to get a cup of coffee with him and the two were now sitting in the park across from St. Barts.
"You could get a flatshare or something?"
"Come on look at me, who'd want me for a flatmate?" John frowned, when Mike giggled. "What?"
"Well you're the second person to say that to me." Mike smiled brightly.
John tried to still his shaking left hand, making a fist at his side, Mike was kind enough to pretend he didn't notice.
"Who was the first?" John found himself asking.
"Follow me, you should meet him, then you could tell me if you'd like an introduction. " John found it difficult to say no to Mike, after all he had spent a summer on the man's couch, as well as attending Barts up until he was deployed.
"He should still be in the lab. A remarkable fellow, sometimes consults for Scotland Yard, always busy with something. You might like him, although few people do."
"You're not really giving me much confidence." Mike chuckled again opening the door to the lab. John looked around at the new equipment.
"Bit different from my day." John ran a hand over one of the more expensive looking microscopes on the table in front of him. He noted a figure in a suit head down he was scribbling onto a piece of paper. John didn't think twice about him, instead he wondered why Mike had brought him on a tour of the hospital than to the lab. Surely this man in the expensive suit wasn't in need of a flatmate.
"Mike, can I borrow your phone there's no signal on mine." Came a familiar baritone voice. John clutched his cane now, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He tried to calm his anxiety not understanding why his damn PTSD decided to flare up. So what that the man in the expensive suit had a familiar voice, and a familiar set of dark curls.
"What's wrong with the landline?"
"I prefer to text."
"Sorry I left it in my coat."
"Oh, here. Use mine." John didn't understand what compelled him to offer this complete stranger his phone. Perhaps it was the urge to see the man's face, to be sure it wasn't the ghost from his past. Damn if his shoulder wasn't aching from the cold, he should have warn a Jumper under his jacket. He'd pay for it later, knowing full well that the uncomfortable pinch would move into a dull ache and finally a painful throbbing.
Sherlock hadn't looked up at the man that followed Mike in until he offered the use of his mobile. The consulting detective froze instantly recognizing the shorter man, his mind was running like a bullet train and Sherlock was trying to keep up, confused by the surge of emotions threatening to rob him of his speech permanently.
"This is an old friend of mine-" Mike started to introduce the shorter man but Sherlock was taking the offered phone, John's face was bit pale, and he was far to thin.
"John Watson." Sherlock stated.
Mike smiled wider.
"Oh, so you already know each other well this is a surprise."
"Coffee." Molly entered now handing Sherlock a warm mug then taking her leave.
"Yes. Small world." John realized that the taller man had taken his offered phone and shot a quick text, handing it back. The ex soldier could see that his friend had grown into his cheekbones, and although thin he wasn't as thin and fragile as he'd looked five years ago. No trace of drug addiction in his mannerisms, so he had managed to stay clean.
Mike sensing the tension smiled easily "Well I've got to run, I'll leave you to it. What a coincidence Sherlock, here you were talking about needing a flatmate and John here is in need of a flatshare. Excellent timing I should say."
Neither man moved or spoke, they hadn't even taken notice that the larger man had left. John felt the urge to escape, to flee. Why had he followed Mike, how cruel that he was brought here? Already feeling like a wounded pathetic animal, what would his ex friend think of him? No doubt Sherlock was taking in the broken shell of a man and finding the ammunition to tear John down. John didn't think he could survive that not right now at least.