I open my eyes. Though I am feeling better, the burden of the conversation I must have with you weighs heavily upon me. What I wouldn't do for a fix. Just something, anything to take the edge off.
"Sherlock?" Your voice calls to me. "Sherlock, I see you're feeling better. I've brought up some tea and biscuits."
I nod, not meeting your eyes. My hand shakes when I reach for the fragile looking tea cup. I look up at you and tears form in my eyes. "John, I…."
You sit down next to me on the bed. "Sherlock, let's not talk about this now." I shake my head, then take a bite of biscuit, letting the taste of it fill my mouth. "Jesus, you make tea and biscuits so sexy."
I give you a tentative smile. "John, I want to talk about this now." My green eyes meet your blue ones. You remain silent until I am finished telling you about Anderson. I wait for you to speak. When you finally do, I jump.
"Sherlock, it sounds as if you care for Anderson."
"What? Seriously, Anderson? He's a dolt an idiot, not worthy of my attention. How can you say such things? I was just bored, that's it, nothing more."
You stroke my arm with your fingertips, until chill bumps raise the hair, making my flesh crawl with desire, like a craving. "Sherlock, you are a multi-faceted creature. I think we need to explore the possibility that the number three works for you."
I sit up. "What do you mean?"
You smirk. "Sherlock, don't play dumb on my account. The sexual tension between us was almost unbearable until Mary. It was she that smoothed things out for us. Everything clicked when we were all together." When I don't answer, you continue. "All I'm saying is that I'm open to it, if it's something you want to try."
"Are you saying you want a three way with Anderson?"
You put both palms on the side of my face. "Sherlock, I'm not suggesting a tawdry encounter with Anderson as our play thing. I'm suggesting a relationship between the three of us." I am stunned. You laugh. "Sherlock, I do believe you are speechless. There is a lot to consider. Are the three of us compatible and of course Alice must come first. I want her to have a stable home environment."
I run my mouth along your shoulder. "John…." Your name comes out as half moan, half whisper.
We fall into a routine, you, I and Alice. Though I have no wish to change nappies and such, watching baby Alice fascinates me, her small fingers, toes, the way she smiles, a combination of you and Mary. We haven't discussed the Anderson Proposal since you brought it up last week. I am irritable. I need a case. I need a fix, or at the very least a cigarette. Perhaps I can get you back into bed. I am just about to propose this very suggestion when my phone rings. It's Lestrade.
"Sherlock, I need you to get down here ASAP. There's been another machete killing."
After I get instructions on where the crime scene is located, I end the call without saying goodbye. "John, can you have Mrs. Hudson watch Alice? I think we may have a case. Isn't it glorious?"
You pick up baby Alice from her playpen and ask, "What's so glorious about this one?"
I rub my hands together. "It involves a machete."
"You are positively macabre," you reply, handing off Alice to Mrs. Hudson.
Mrs. Hudson smiles, then looks sternly at both of us. "Now I'll look after Alice, but just this once. Remember, I'm your landlady, not your babysitter."
You smile. "Thanks Mrs. Hudson, I am looking into getting a nanny for Alice, but it's going to be a difficult match."
Mrs. Hudson talks baby talk to Alice, then pauses. "Who wouldn't want to watch, Alice, she's an angel."
You roll your eyes in my direction. "It's not her I'm worried about, it's him."
Mrs. Hudson looks pensive. "Yes, he does take a bit of getting used to."
I go over the crime scene, with you trailing in my wake. Anderson, stays hunched over in the corner, picking at some organic material that is stuck to the wall. He doesn't look up when I pass him. I ignore him and squat down to examine the machete. Its ornate, suggesting that it is special to the owner. I take a closer look. Hmm interesting." It appears that this machete has a twin, see the marking on the handle? It indicates that this weapon is one from a set of two." I say aloud.
Lestrade strolls over and examines the weapon. "So, where's the other one?"
I look around at the corpse, noting the defensive wounds on his arms. "The victim was definitely attached with two machetes. See the marks on his arms and how they have different striations? They would seem to indicate that the body was struck with simultaneous blows like this." I then demonstrate with my imaginary pair of machete.
Lestrade watches my performance, then sighs. "So, where is the other machete?"
I back track the blood spray patterns from the corpse to where the weapon lies, then back again. "See this trail of blood? It indicates that another weapon was drug off in this direction." I smile. I am on the hunt.
"Sherlock, wait, that area hasn't been secured yet."
I ignore Lestrade and forge ahead. I push past two uniformed police offers, ready to bay like a hound. I am so intent on my quarry that I fail to notice the crazed figure that charges towards me, screaming obscenities. My intellect is no match against the fight or flight adrenaline that causes my body to freeze in place. I wait for the cutting blow and am surprised when another figure rushes forward, throwing me to the ground. Who has taken my place with the grim reaper? A shot rings out and my would-be assailant drops, letting his machete clatter to the floor.
Anderson lays at my feet, blood pouring from a gash in his abdomen. He is going to bleed out.
"Anderson, "I shout crawling towards him. He is shaking but he still manages to smile up at me. I know that look. It's death. "No, Anderson hang on. John, get over here. Help me."
You are by his side in an instant. Your face is grim, while you work to stem the flow of blood.
I take Anderson's hand. "Anderson, hang on, John's here, he'll make everything right."
Anderson shakes his head. "Sherlock…..," my name comes out in a hiss.
"Fuck," you swear, then begin resuscitation.
I am still holding Anderson's hand. "Anderson, stay with us. Phillip, please don't leave. We'll miss you. I'll miss you." Then the room quiets and my throat swells while the cacophony of an approaching siren grows closer.
