CHAPTER 27. FINE AGAIN

Sherlock thought about what he had said to Mycroft earlier, before Lestrade had interrupted. What did Mycroft know about it? How would he know what John needed. Today had been a set back, he should learn to never let John out of his sight. That said, he was a bit disappointed he hadn't seen John in action, that Russian had been a mass of man and John put him down, not just putting him to sleep, but he unarmed the man, Sherlock would charge a new coat to the Yard. John's was beyond patch work. And he made a note to ask his friend where he learned Russian.

He recalled the awe in the Detective Inspector's eyes. Good, Sherlock had been thinking lately that John needed to get out, not just to PT and therapy and back. He was aware of John wanting to find a job, and his physical therapist had yet to clear him, even though the tremor in his hand was barely noticeable, he would never perform surgery but it didn't mean he wasn't an excellent doctor.

The Detective Inspector didn't realize it fully yet, but he would. John always appeared so ordinary, but oh how appearances were so deceiving, but that man disguising himself in a brown jumper, behind a quiet disposition, that man was extraordinary. He was loyal, kind, and had a temper. Oh yes, when it came to John when his fuse was lit he could be very intimidating. Even before the army.

John's quiet moods were distracting, Sherlock never understood why but they made him lose focus on everything. He wished for his friend to be fine again, although something told him he would never be the same carefree young man he once was.

He recalled something John had said when they were younger and really all throughout their childhood. Friends protect each other. Sherlock was still a bit unclear on some aspects of this rule. John had always just known what to do in most situations when someone was needing help. Surely being friends included protecting said friend even from themselves and any self-destructive tendencies. So Sherlock would be a friend, although he was a bit in the dark and had nothing to reference except what little data he stored on the subject in a room of his mind palace marked John.

John already had a best friend, but more acquaintances would be welcome.

A sudden thought struck the self proclaimed sociopath, was he still John's best friend? Even now after their falling out? As children John always reassured the younger Holmes they would always be best friends and no one could take Sherlock's place, even in death. He'd given his word and this Watson never went back on his word.

Still Sherlock started to panic then realized even if he wasn't John's best friend due to the fact he had no other friends then he won by default. Deciding that the DI wasn't at all competition Sherlock relaxed. These thoughts were so confusing, he looked forward to John snapping out of these dark moods so he could get back to focus on experiments and cases, and the puzzle that was this mysterious Moriarty that the cabbie had spoken of.

He needed to clear his mind, but until this John situation was sorted he couldn't hold and maintain any thought without the interruption of sentiment.

After all Sherlock didn't need any friends, he just had one, John however wasn't built that way. It was obvious to the consulting detective why, although he didn't understand the emotion behind it. It was simple, John compensated friends for the family he didn't have.

Another reason for not having friends, he couldn't imagine how much more exhausting it would be having to worry about others, he didn't have the brain space or patience for it. As it was Sherlock didnt much like his own family let alone any other idiots in his everyday life, well other than John, why would anyone want to create such restrictive and suffocating relationships that defined familial bonds? John could be so frustrating and puzzling, he was a puzzle that Sherlock had been trying to solve since their first meeting in the park.

Now Sherlock wondered why he had been bothered by the Detective Inspectors opinion of the Doctor? Why should he care? Lestrade wasn't at all important he was just someone that gave him puzzles to solve. The older man was nothing more, but still when Lestrade had looked at John as if afraid the Doctor wasn't stable or safe for Sherlock to be around- Really once again Lestrade you show a lack of observational skills.

The Detective Inspector didn't need to worry about John hurting anyone. John needed a new purpose in life. What better than sharing in the consulting detectives, solving crimes could be the needed stimuli and adrenaline rush.

And of course the consulting detectives offer to cover the costs of living was shot down immediately by his friend stubborn friend. John insisted on paying his fair share, as it was he was always buying groceries sapping his pathetic pension. Really was that all the Government could give a man for nearly dieing? Maybe Mycroft could look into that. The older Holmes would love to meddle, no, no Sherlock wouldn't ask his brother for anything if he could help it.

Sherlock thought of another way to get his stubborn friend to accept money without it feeling like charity. Because it was not charity, isnt that what friends did? John could be so hypocritical on some subjects.

So a plan was formulated, working a case could supplement that tiny army pension and feed the adrenaline junkie that John used to be.

Sherlock smiled again to himself perhaps he would start accepting the always offered payment on his private cases, he didn't need the money mind you, this is why he turned it down something that if John was made aware he most definitely would not allow. Sherlock anticipated a brief lecture and scolding over allowing people to not compensate him for his hard work, and Sherlock would agree with a great show of none interest but compliance. He would then demand that in fairness and using John's own lecture against him that John should take his fair share. It was brilliant! He took John's laptop breaking the password within seconds, really John EARLGREY wasn't a password at all, why even make one up for that matter?

Time to scan his email for possible cases.

Mycroft's concern over it being too soon to push the Doctor onto crime scenes, and he warned Sherlock that his friend wasn't completely healed, physically or mentally. It was low of Mycroft but not at all surprising that he had acquired John's therapists' notes, useless women.

What would John think if he found out? Embarrassed? Humiliated? Sherlock decided not to mention it, however he knew his brother and how he worked. Lestrade had questions, Mycroft would answer most of them, the ones he felt important. And he would give Lestrade a file on John, it was on thing for Mycroft to posses such a file marked Watson, John H.

No doubt it would contain everything on the Doctor from birth to present, including medical histories and that in particular was no ones concern. John would view this as a huge invasion of his privacy. And if he knew Lestrade had read it then any hopes at becoming John's friend would die then and there. That was why he warned the DI, if they were all going to work together it was best not to start out on the wrong foot.

Since when did Mycroft care anyway? John would not appreciate being the focus of his older brothers "concern" it always came with strings, and surveillance attached.

Ah here it was an offer from an old acquaintance, should be interesting. Maybe John has forgiven and forgotten the whole situation with Sebastian. Well they would find out in a week. That was enough time for John to have his shoulder back in working order.

The younger Holmes paused hearing his friends bed creaking knowing John was starting to stir, drinking wouldn't help with the nightmares. If anything it would keep his flatmate from waking himself from whatever horrors haunted him.

Taking up his violin like he had planned, he started something soft, putting bow to violin the first strokes were intended to catch the listeners attention, sharp, like a command and then it moved into a steady lively tune as if soldiers were marching, finally he allowed the strings to humm, slur and whisper a slow hypnotizing melody. Sherlock had written this on a whim while John was out with the DI.

At the end of his new piece, he held his breath, listening for anything. Only the steady breathing of a sleeping Doctor. Good he would need his sleep for their next case.

Returning to his microscope, a small grin forming on his lips, success.