Sherlock ran his tongue over his dry lips as his body stayed motionless. The detective could here the invalid soldier breathing deeply behind him in the darkness. The sociopath had hoped for John to have been asleep. He wasn't asleep. The tall man's eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness. He could now make out the paper that was held between his thin fingers in more detail. The man sighed. It was nothing more than a shopping list. His eyes scanned over the items that were scrawled on the paper. He sighed again, the contents of the list revealed nothing of much use about the inhabitant of flat 12.
Sherlock heard John draw a breath as if he were about to speak so he turned his head the tiniest fraction to indicate that he was listening. He heard the soldier swallow, as if he were preparing his voice.
"Mr Holmes, what a pleasant surprise." Johns voice was harsh and cold. It was a tone that offered no argument. The words echoed around the practically bare room slightly and a shiver fell down the genius' spine.
"Yes. What are the chances of seeing you here," Sherlock hesitated before using his name, "Mr Watson."
The doctor chuckled at the detective's hesitation, "Well, I do live here, as you know. Oh and please, call me John." The detective turned around slowly until he was looking directly down the barrel of the gun. His eyes scanned over the weapon.
Standard military issue- Well cared for- often in use.
Despite the chuckling, the man holding the gun was still frowning. John raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at the drawer that Sherlock had just had his hands in seconds before.
"Now, now, now, Mr Holmes. I don't think Detective Inspector Lestrade will be pleased to find out that you've been up here snooping." The doctor lengthened out his words so they took on a condescending manner. John glared down at the sociopath as he spoke. The gun didn't waver. The solder leant forward until he was centimetres from Sherlock's face, "Keep out of my business, Mr Holmes." His voice dripped with threat and a hidden power began to show itself. Sherlock frowned and thought, Who are you, John Watson? Before a sharp pain erupted on the front of his skull and everything went menacingly black.
The genius groaned as the pounding in his head wrenched him from unconsciousness. He began to open his heavy eyelids but the crisp light assaulted his eyes. He winced and furrowed his brow. Somebody was sat on the floor in front of him. The sociopath squinted in an attempt to clear his blurred vision. The silhouette in front of him danced in and out of focus. The detective blinked rapidly until the DI became recognisable. Lestrade sat about two meters or so away from the lying down consulting detective. The older man was studying the unconscious man. Sherlock immediately recognised where he was. He was lying on the bed in one of the Yard's holding cells. The detective began to groan but was forced into silence as the pain ripped through his skull.
Sherlock's thundering head demanded his attention again and the detective raised his hand to feel the side of his head. Nestled in amongst his dark curls was a large lump and Sherlock groaned again as his long fingers made contact with his sensitive skin.
It was only when Sherlock looked at Lestrade that he realised he was being spoken to. The consulting detective strained to hear over the pounding in his head.
"...You over and over again. I told you to keep away from him. To leave him alone. Yes, we may be slightly suspicious of him but so far he's done nothing but good for the Yard. I think your jealousy is beginning to cloud your judgment. It's not-" Sherlock suddenly understood what he was saying.
"Jealous? Me? No, Detective Inspector Lestrade, I am NOT jealous of John Watson!" The genius raised his voice and tried to sit up. His head protested.
"Of course you are! It's obvious. You only took interest in John when he started solving things you couldn't!"
"I was about to solve them." The sociopath mumbled, crossing his arms. Sulking, like a small child.
"God, Sherlock! What's wrong with you?! You break into a man's flat just because you were jealous?!"
The sociopath blinked at the older man. He sighed, "No, Lestrade. I can assure you that I am not jealous of John Watson. Although, did you see his flat?" Sherlock skilfully flipped the subject while raising an eyebrow.
Greg sighed in exasperation. "Oh yeah. I saw it... Not what I'd call an ideal location. Certainly not in the centre of London, that's for sure!"
"This has the opportunity to be very useful in finding out more about this John Watson..." Sherlock pursed his lips as his head thumped.
The DI heaved himself up from the cold cell floor and wrenched open the heavy metal door, "Out, Sherlock." He watched as the genius pulled himself up painfully and stumbled towards the door.
It wasn't until Sherlock had began to walk through the dull holding cell corridor when Lestrade called out, "And for Christ's sake, keep away from John!"