Sherlock pounded his fist upon the door to John's flat and stood back to wait impatiently, his foot tapping on the step. He'd had this sudden need to tell John about the crime he'd just solved β because, really, it had been marvellous β and was wishing the doctor would hurry up.
Eventually the door opened and Mary appeared, looking tired. She frowned down at Sherlock.
"Sherlock?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
He pushed past her and began to trot up the stairs. "I need to speak to John." he said.
"We're kind of busy at the moment." Mary replied as she followed him.
"He needs to hear it."
"Does he, though?" she murmured to herself, shaking her head. Sherlock had been popping round every other day to tell John this and that; even if it was only trifle, like the fact that Mrs Hudson had apparently met someone and Sherlock had determined that John needed to know straight away.
Sherlock worked out that John was in the bedroom and he hurried in, pausing at the doorway. John had a suitcase on the bed and was in the middle of packing it. When Sherlock came in, he looked up.
"Sherlock? You alright?"
Sherlock frowned at the sight before him. "Are you going somewhere?" he asked. The unwanted thought that perhaps John was moving away crossed his mind, and he fervently hoped it wasn't true.
"Yes, Mary and I are going on our honeymoon. I told you yesterday. You obviously weren't listening." John answered exasperatedly, and Sherlock breathed an internal sigh of relief.
"Right, well, anyway this case I've just solved, it involved the decapitation of a pig, and at first the meaning was unclear, but as more information was gathered I was able to work out..."
As Sherlock spoke, John sighed and continued to pack his clothes, nodding and making agreeable noises whenever Sherlock expected it. He knew it was pointless to tell the detective that now really was a bad time, so he let Sherlock perch on the bed and tell him about the case.
"... After I received the note covered in mustard powder it was clear that..."
Mary came into the room at that point with folded clothes that wouldn't fit in her suitcase and placed them in John's. Sherlock didn't pay the slightest attention to her; keeping his eyes on John and ensuring he was hearing what he was saying. Mary gave John a cup of tea and the doctor smiled in response as he closed and zipped up the suitcase. When Mary asked Sherlock if he wanted a drink she was ignored, and she left the room with a roll of her eyes.
"... Lestrade, of course, was completely ignorant but he soon saw..."
John took a sip of his tea and sat on the bed, deciding they could wait ten minutes before having to leave for the airport. He listened to Sherlock prattle on and he asked the right questions at the right time, but other than that he didn't speak.
When twenty minutes passed and Sherlock still hadn't finished talking, John raised his hand and interrupted.
"Sherlock, this case sounds riveting but Mary and I really do have to get going. You can tell me all about when I get back, I promise."
"I'll carry your suitcase to the taxi." Sherlock announced, changing the topic suddenly. John raised his eyebrows but shrugged.
"Okay, cheers." he said, getting up and going downstairs into the kitchen, where he placed his empty mug and met Mary at the door with her own suitcase. Sherlock followed moments later and the three walked outside. Even on the short trip downstairs, Sherlock added bits about the case.
John opened the boot of the cab and took the suitcases off Mary and Sherlock, who it seemed hadn't yet paused for breath. John glanced over at Mary, and when she offered him a reluctant nod, he sighed and moved to open the cab door. Mary climbed in and a moment later, so did Sherlock.
The cab ride was not passed in silence, surprisingly enough. John and Mary both stared out of their respective windows whilst Sherlock stared at the back of John's head and talked at him.
"... And that was something even Anderson should have spotted..."
"... We found her in an old chicken factory in Bungay, of all places."
John cut in then. "You went to Suffolk for this case?" he asked, incredulous.
"Yes, of course, weren't you listening? I said that she was originally from Lancaster, but she was brought up in Suffolk..."
An hour later and they arrived at Heathrow Airport, John and Mary both grateful that the journey had ended. They leapt out and payed the cabbie before retrieving their suitcases. They walked into the airport with Sherlock close behind, matching their fast pace.
"I'm going to go and get tickets." Mary said, and rushed off before John could insist he did it. The doctor couldn't help but smile as Sherlock crowded his space and carried on talking, and when Mary came back with the tickets a few minutes later, the trio set off for the right terminal.
Having arrived fairly early to ensure they did not miss their flight, John and Mary had about an hour before they'd have to board. They sat on some of the many plastic chairs in the waiting area; John in the middle with Mary on his right and Sherlock on his left, who had not stopped talking. Mary had rested her head on John's shoulder and was dropping off to Sherlock's dulcet tone, but every time John showed sign of napping, the detective would nudge him to keep his attention.
"... After the blue welly boot was found, we proceeded to the fire station only to find..."
John was pleased that Sherlock did not exclude him from cases, that whenever he couldn't come along the detective would happily fill him in on what had happened but really, there was only so much John could take without feeling tired and weary. He didn't know how Sherlock had the energy to talk nonstop, he really didn't. He wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock remained in his thirties forever whilst everyone else grew old, bouncing around and making everybody feel ten times their age. He had that effect on John, that was for sure.
So caught up in his story was he, that Sherlock didn't notice John leaning his head atop Mary's. Moments later the doctor dozed off, leaving Sherlock talking to himself.
"Flight 203 is ready for boarding. Please have your passes ready."
The overhead announcer startled John out of his nap, and blearily he looked around, realising that something was different. Oh, that was it, Sherlock had stopped talking.
The detective sat slumped in his chair with his arms crossed, a pout on his face as he glared straight ahead. John groaned internally and nudged Mary awake. She jerked and lifted her head and when John told her to go and board the plane without him, she hesitated for a moment before taking a look at Sherlock and then nodding understandingly.
When she was gone, John glanced across at his friend. He sighed before speaking. "I'm sorry." he said.
"You fell asleep." Sherlock accused, not looking at the doctor.
"Yeah," John rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to."
"If you wanted me to stop talking, you should have said so."
John was about to protest that he had asked him, but now that he thought about it, he realised that he'd never directly told Sherlock to be quiet. It had just been excuses like, "we're going to be late," or "we're now going." He must have hoped that Sherlock would have picked up on the cues, but clearly the detective hadn't, and John probably should have known that.
"Today just wasn't the best day for it, that's all." John said.
"Were you even listening?" Sherlock said grumpily.
"Of course I was. It was a case about a woman who stole a diamond and put it in a frozen turkey or something."
"Goose. Not that it matters." Sherlock muttered, and John sighed.
"I like hearing about your cases, Sherlock, I really do." he said. "I like that you choose to fill me in on what has happened so that I can blog about it or just listen purely to satisfy my curiosity. I like that you come to my flat at all hours to rant about Anderson or Mycroft. I like that you'll tell me gossip, even though you hate it but you know I find these things interesting. Don't think I put up with you because I feel I have to. You're my best mate, you should know that."
"I do know that." Sherlock mumbled, looking down at his lap. John grinned.
"Good." he said and bumped Sherlock's arm, eliciting a small smile from the detective.
"Okay, I really do have to go and get on that plane. We're going toβ"
"Italy, yes, you told me yesterday." Sherlock interrupted, and John smiled.
"Yeah. So... see you next week?" he asked and the detective nodded.
John squeezed his shoulder as he got up. "I'll try and pop round the flat when we get back and you can carry on telling me about this complex case then."
"Bye." Sherlock said, pulling out his phone and John smiled again before walking off.
When he sat down on the plane next to Mary, she raised her eyebrows.
"He's fine." he answered, and she smiled in relief. John released a breath of air and rubbed a hand over his face. He let out a chuckle a moment later.
"What?" Mary asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing. It's just that... God, for a minute I thought he was going to get on the plane with us." he said, and they both descended into giggles.
A/N: Please leave a review! I want to know I'm getting things right! x
