Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed watching John pack. There was something hypnotic about the way John moved that never ceased to fascinate Sherlock. John, feeling Sherlock's gaze turned around.
"Sherlock, why are you staring? Sherlock, what's wrong?" John's voice had a hard edge to it. It was the kind of hardness that loved ones of persons with addictive personalities used when faced with the possibility that something terrible was going to happen again.
Sherlock observed the tone of John's voice and kept silent. He wanted to tell John that every move he made was a source of excitement. John could be bringing in groceries, taking out the trash, or just sitting around in his robe and Sherlock found each movement that John made was as thrilling as any steps a dancer performed. Instead of voicing any of the thoughts that he was thinking, Sherlock pushed himself off the bed and started to leave the room.
John stopped packing and moved towards Sherlock. "Sherlock, you can tell me what is it?"
Sherlock wanted to tell John that he didn't want him to go on the assignment in Prague. He wanted to tell John that his chest felt heavy every time he contemplated John's being in danger. He wanted to …he wanted to…. Sherlock turned to leave the room, but John's steely grip on his arm held Sherlock in place.
"Sherlock, you need to tell me what's going on. I'm not clairvoyant you know."
Sherlock smiled. "John, I am rubbing off on you. When I first met you would never have used the word clairvoyant to describe your inability to penetrate the human mind. You most likely would have said something like; I'm not a mind reader you know."
John let go of Sherlock's arm. "Oh, for God's sake I have no idea what you are trying to say, however I'm fairly certain it has nothing to do with my vocabulary, or lack thereof."
Sherlock moved closer to John and everything that he was going to say just simply vanished away, so Sherlock just leaned forward and pulled John into an embrace. When his lips met John's, it was as if a bolt of electricity shot through his entire body. Sherlock, frantically reached for John's shirt, as he ripped it open, buttons flew everywhere.
"Sherlock that was a brand new shirt." John exclaimed. Sherlock, didn't answer as he ran his hands over John's bare chest. John gasped. "Sherlock, I don't care about the bloody shirt." John then began to return Sherlock's kisses. John had always loved kissing; however, with Sherlock it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Sherlock's tongue explored every square inch of John's mouth, only stopping once in a while to catch his breath. Sherlock unbuckled John's pants and with one downward motion, John's pants and underwear were draped around his ankles.
A few moments later John lay naked on the bed. Sherlock's gazed lingered first on John's face, and then slowly he visually took in the rest of John's body. John's face flushed under the scrutiny.
"Sherlock, I' m getting a little self-conscious here. Are you going to join me or just window shop?"
Sherlock climbed on the bed; still fully clothed he straddled himself over John and began to kiss him. Gradually, Sherlock's clothes came off one by one until he was naked as well. For a moment Sherlock lay on top of John and held him tight, and then it was if he came to life after a long sleep. Sherlock's hands and mouth were everywhere. John marveled at how Sherlock knew every erogenous spot on his body. Sherlock didn't just make love to John; he consumed him physically and mentally. John sighed with pleasure after climaxing. After making love to Sherlock, John always fell into a deep sleep, however, this time he fought to stay awake. Sherlock turned his head sideways, so that he could listen to John's heartbeat.
John squirmed in order to find a comfortable position. Sherlock was getting heavy. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"John, be quiet. I am listening to your heartbeat." Sherlock's voice was tense and commanding.
"Well, Doctor do I pass the test?" John chuckled.
Sherlock sighed. "I just don't want you having another heart episode."
John sat up. "Sherlock, for God's sake it was only a mild heart episode. I'm fine. Now why don't you tell me what is really bothering you? You've been cagey all day."
Sherlock stared back at John. His emotions were so chaotic. How was he to tell John, that for the first time in his life Sherlock felt real fear? What if something happened to John? What if he, Sherlock were not able to rescue him? What if he and John were separated? The uncertainty of the future tormented Sherlock."
John gently took Sherlock's arm. "Sherlock, talk to me. What is bothering you?"
Sherlock moved himself even closer to John. "John, you are my kryptonite."
John smoothed his hand over Sherlock's wet curls. "Sherlock, Sherlock, I think you are finally feeling what it means to be vulnerable. Welcome to the human race." John rubbed the tenseness out of Sherlock's shoulders and then lay back on a pillow. He tried to fight the urge to fall asleep, but eventually exhaustion overtook John and as he rested Sherlock watched him sleep. Confetti came in a few moments later and jumped on the bed. Sherlock listened to the small breathing sounds that John and Confetti made as they slept. Around dawn, Sherlock finally drifted off to sleep.
Mycroft and Mary arrived at the flat bright and early the next morning. Sherlock's mind felt foggy from loss of sleep. He barely remembered giving Mrs. Hudson instructions on how to feed Confetti, before they were whisked away to the airport in Mycroft's limo.
John often thought that more people would enjoy flying if they went in a private plane. Jesus, the inside of Mycroft's jet was like a living room. Sherlock spouted out non-stop facts and figures about Prague as he swiveled back and forth in his chair. John could tell that Sherlock was fighting exhaustion and that soon he would need to wind down.
"Sherlock, you're making me dizzy with all the swirling around." John complained.
Sure enough Sherlock stopped swirling in his chair and flopped down on the floor in a pout. However, within five minutes he was asleep. John smiled to himself. Like a hyperactive child, Sherlock had finally worn himself out.
John marveled at the sights and sounds of Prague. It had not been bombed extensively during WWII, so many of the buildings were hundreds of years old. Mary had been sent to contact an old business associate to gain the supplies they needed and Sherlock and John were to meet their contact in the ancient Jewish cemetery. The Jewish cemetery in Prague is one the oldest cemeteries in the world. There at least twelve burial levels to the cemetery, which made the tombstones, look like the jagged layers of a shark's teeth. John shivered. "What a creepy place." John whispered to Sherlock. Sherlock nodded, but didn't answer. The moon was full and illuminated everything in the cemetery, leaving no place for Sherlock and John to hide. "What a perfect place for a ghost story." John mused.
Sherlock whirled around. "For God's sakes John, be quiet I can't think while you are nattering on."
John was about ready to reply when a dark figure emerged beside them. He motioned for them to follow him and soon they were winding their way further into the city. John tried to make a mental note of landmarks, but finally gave up. "This place is like a maze," John thought warily. Their guide finally stopped in front of one of the long tall structures that must have housed thousands of Jewish people before WWII. The streets that had once been full of happy children were now silent and empty. A whisper of wind blew through the street, ruffling John's hair. He stood still for a moment, willing the foreboding of death to pass over him.
"John, come on", Sherlock whispered as they followed their guide into the lower level of the house. The inside of the small apartment was just as dismal as the outside. Everything was maintained, however, the spirit of heaviness that John had felt outside had drifted inside as well. Only when they were safely inside with the door shut did their guide speak.
"My name is Sherwin," he said as he shook Sherlock's hand and then John's. "Dr. Watson, I can't thank you enough for your service to the order. Something is terribly wrong and we need another person on the inside besides me."
John nodded. "Mycroft briefed us on the situation. However, I'm not sure how plausible it's going to be with Sherlock and Mary here. That is just too much of a coincidence for anyone to swallow."
Sherwin nodded. "I agree that's why you are going to tell the truth when I introduce you to the order." Sherwin then walked over to the sink, washed his hands and offered Sherlock and John a cup of tea.
Sherlock leaned forward. "Our cover story is that we are investigating the theft of some of the gold garments of the little infant of Prague."
John leaned forward. "How do we know you are telling the truth?"
Sherlock observed Sherwin. "He is telling the truth. The dark circles under his eyes suggest that he had been having trouble sleeping. The fact that his eyes are not dulled in luster suggests that his insomnia stems from an emotional upset, rather than a physical illness. The cuticles around his nail beds have been chewed which would also indicate that he is very nervous. The fact that he has made direct eye contact, his pupils have not dilated, and he has not had to think about his replies would suggest that he is telling the truth. His hands appear to be overly dry which would further suggest that he washes them often, as a Doctor would. After washing his hands he held them up like so." Sherlock held his hands out with palms up to demonstrate. "Combine that with the fact that the medical degree hanging on your wall is written on parchment stationary that is only used on Oxford Diplomas. Oh and I also recognize the dean's signature. All of these indicators point to the fact that he is the genuine article."
Sherwin looked over at John. "My God, that was remarkable. Is he always so outrageously spot on?"
John grinned. "Yep, pretty much."
Sherwin shook his head in amazement and continued with his story. "Anyway I think honesty is the best policy with the members of the order. The only thing we will not tell them is that I summoned for help. We are meeting tonight, so John do you feel up to it?"
Before John could answer Sherlock stood. "He is going in so soon? We just got here and well maybe John should adjust to the climate before he goes running off in the night."
John patted Sherlock on the back. "It's alright, Sherlock. The sooner we can get this wrapped up, the sooner we can go home."
They finished their tea and stood huddled outside of Sherwin's apartment. Sherlock wanted to throw his arms around John and beg him not to go, instead he just signaled John with his eyes like he had so many times before. The expression conveyed that he would stand by John at any cost. Then before he knew it John and Sherwin disappeared into the inky blackness of the night. John was gone. Sherlock stood for a few moments controlling his breathing, and then he made his way back to the hotel where he and Mary were staying.