_*_*_Sherlock_*_*_
"I don't understand!" Sherlock growled grabbing up some papers throwing them across the room.
He was back at 221B and he was alone. It had been several days since finding The Handler as John had come to call her and everything seem to be hitting a wall. At first Sherlock saw the end coming to this interesting case but it turned sour when the evidence suddenly fell short. There had been twenty different prints at the house, one pair belonging to one Hilda Martin aka The Handler. The others were men from various different backgrounds.
Scotland Yard began pulling these men in one and one. Everyone without fail pleaded innocent to ever have been in that house. Sherlock watch through the two way mirror while the men were interrogated and finding that they were all telling the truth. Sherlock, being Sherlock knew he had to make sure so he check their alibis and of course they all checked out. Miss Martin's autopsy report came back with a surprise instead of phosphorous in her system it was sulfur. This left Sherlock completely stuck!
Finger prints at a crime scene that all match but to men who had never been to the house. Miss Martin a sweet old lady settling into retirement with no history or proof of having a secret double life evidence shows that that was a lie, or was it?
Sherlock suddenly stopped his pacing that he had been doing unintentionally,
The first woman, didn't look murder but turned out to be just that. Second murder very obviously murdered and even displayed. Dressed as a prostitute for what reason? To distract me? No, to show me? There is something…woman looking asleep but isn't, another woman dressed as a prostitute but isn't.
"It's not what is seems," Sherlock breathed out loud though there was no one to hear what he had figured out.
The murderer is trying to tell me that the crime scenes aren't as they seem. First woman her flat was clean no new prints except her own. Next the second woman the whole thing was fake she wasn't a prostitute and was never involved with anything like that but together what do they mean?
He pondered the question pacing again. No matter what he tried to theorize it felt incomplete and this frustrated him.
It's an unfinished puzzle, there will be another murder.
Sherlock concluded texting out a quick message to Lestrade.
_*_*_John_*_*_
"Glad you could join me," he told the D.I. as they sat at the bar ordering their drinks.
Greg took a deep breath thanking the bar tender as he drank, "I need this," he said after setting the pint down.
John smiled raising his drink towards Lestrade "Cheers mate," he offered taking a large gulp.
Greg returned the smile though a second later it disappeared as his phone rang indicating a new message "Bloody hell," he grumbled shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out the device. John watched the man's eyes darting over the words on the phone.
"Damnit," the D.I. muttered laying the phone on the bar and finished off his drink.
"Nothing's wrong I hope," John said curiously.
Greg ordered another drink "Sherlock thinks there will be another murder or is another murder either way we need to keep a look out," he informed the doctor.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked cautiously watching Lestrade grab up his phone again.
"First I'm going to text Donavan to let her know about Sherlock's theory and then," he spoke while he texted pausing when a new drink appeared before him to chug it down, "I'm going to get piss drunk," John chuckled finishing off his first drink.
Hours later found Lestrade and John still in the pub though they had moved from the bar to a booth. Greg was more than hammered with John slightly less. "Did you hear about Sherlock's girlfriend?" he blurted out Lestrade giggled his head laying on his arm that was propped up on the table.
"Oh! I didn't know you two were dating," the D.I. cackled John laughed almost forgetting what he was about to say.
"I'm not gay," he managed before bursting out with another laugh. The two men laughed until tears were rolling down their faces, "No but seriously Sherlock has a girlfriend," John tried again Greg looked very interested for someone who couldn't feel his face.
"She's super pretty," John told him slurring the letters, "Little thing from America."
Lestrade smirked "Didn't know Sherlock knew what a girl was," he said chuckling as he tipped his pint towards his face.
"He said she reminds him of me," John added Greg sputtered sitting up beer dripped from his face. John handed the man some napkins watching as Greg mopped up his face "What does that even mean?" John asked swallowing some of his drink.
Greg gave him a serious but unfocused look "It means…" he started though failed to continue as he looked to have lost his thought. A moment passed as he sat there trying to figure out what he was going to say, "Oh, here we go," Lestrade said looking triumphant, "It means he likes you," he finished.
John stared his muddled brain panicked "What?! No that's absurd! He's Sherlock and well…" his words faded but Greg pressed.
"Well what?"
John felt a lump in his throat and a sudden need to throw up, "He's Sherlock," he repeated knowing there was no other way to say it and he didn't need to.
"That's the understatement of the year," Greg said knowingly finishing off his drink. John's intoxicated mind became less foggy as strange thoughts assaulted his brain.
Sherlock is Sherlock and I'm John. What more does there need to be said.
"Why do you have that look on your face?" Greg asked leaning closer to John, pulling the doctor from his thoughts.
"How drunk are you right now?" he questioned.
Lestrade laughed "To the point where I might not remember how to get home," he answered.
"I think I might like him," John confessed Greg stared at him.
"Who, Sherlock?!" he asked.
John's face grew red "No Prince! Of course Sherlock how many hims do I know," he retorted.
The D.I. giggled "You're funny," he murmured poking John on the nose.
The doctor sighed putting his face down on his arm "But him being Sherlock and his amazing self what do I do," he said aloud though not really wanting an answer.
"I know!" Lestrade shouted startling John making him sit up, "The best part about being drunk is that you can go be ridiculously honest and not even care what might happen," The D.I. said sounding almost sober.
John rolled the words through his head and had an urge to go see the consulting detective. "You know what," he said Greg looked at him waiting, "What the Hell I'm going to go do it." John announced getting a bright smile from Lestrade.
"Yeah good for you," he cheered John finished off his final drink and slid from the booth.
"You alright to get home?" he asked not wanting to leave until he was sure of that at least. Greg nodded his eyes looking heavy John's doctor side kicked in "I'll see you home first," he told him helping the staggering D.I. from the pub and into a cab. Taking the cab to Greg's flat John made sure the drunk man made inside before taking the cab to 221B.
On the street in front of the flat, John looked up to see lights on but he knew that he couldn't use that to confirm that Sherlock was indeed home. He suddenly felt weak and very drunk as he stumbled up the narrow stairs to the flat. At the door he didn't bother knocking before opening it.
Lights glowed in the living room but it was empty. John moved inside enough to close the door. Leaning against the warm wood he stood there using door for support listening for anything but it was silent. Shrugging off his coat John dropped in on to the floor, kicking off his shoes as well.
Feeling a little more comfortable he shuffled forward to the couch and fell onto it. His face landed in one of the pillows that smelled strongly of Sherlock, making him smile. John lay there, his face buried in the pillow not feeling tired at all, he was content in just breathing in Sherlock.
"John," Sherlock called.
John didn't move he had sensed the man's presence before he had even spoke, "John are you asleep?" Sherlock asked his voice much closer.
John turned his head cracking open one eye to find Sherlock crouched near his face, "Sherlock!" John sang rolling over on his side smiling.
"You've been drinking," the younger man stated.
John giggled "A very accurate deduction," he said watching a soft smile form on the consulting detectives face.
"Didn't need to deduce that," he said.
John poked his nose "Are you a psychic now?" he asked seeing that as a possibility.
Sherlock snorted "That is superstitious pseudo-science," he muttered moving his legs to sit his shoulder pressed into the couch near John's head.
"I bet you could pull off being a psychic if you needed to," John murmured.
Sherlock wrinkled his nose "It's unlikely we will ever find out," he chuckled.
John could almost picture the consulting detective dressed in starry robes and a large turban perched on his head sitting behind a crystal ball throwing out fortunes like deductions.
"Stop that," Sherlock said as if he could hear the doctor's thoughts.
John smirked "What?" he laughed, "Imagine it Sherlock! You could be the great and powerful Holmes! Or Sheba Sherlock!" he teased seeing a smile growing on the younger man's face.
"The Magnificent Sherlock," he added.
John giggled "That's already one of your titles can't use that one," he told him.
Sherlock frowned a bit "No one thinks I'm magnificent," he spoke quietly John's face softened looking at him intently.
"I do," he whispered the alcohol was taking his embarrassment and turning it in to courage.
Sherlock's eyes widened "Don't be ridiculous John," he scoffed the doctor's heart sank a twinge of heat flooded his face, "If anyone is magnificent it's you."
John's breath caught in his lungs "Now I don't believe that," he managed though it sounded a bit strained Sherlock leaned in closer.
"And why not?" he asked John was very aware of how close the two of them were now but he forced himself to focus on Sherlock's question.
"I'm not a renowned consulting detective! I don't have a super human brain that is almost magical! I don't solve lifesaving crimes!" the doctor listed off though there was much more he could have said.
Sherlock had a small smile on his face that said very clearly that he knew something that no one else did "I'm not a doctor," he said.
John snorted "I'll give you that, so I have one thing going for me," he laughed.
Sherlock's smile grew slightly "You're my best friend," he continued.
John rolled his eyes "Can't even count that one since you're a part of that. So I have one and a half things going for me," John commented bringing his fingers up to count on.
Sherlock's fingers slipped into to John's hand "And I think you are magnificent." Sherlock finished squeezing John's hand gently. The doctor couldn't help but mark this moment as a milestone for something bigger and he could only stare at the younger man his mind completely silent.
They looked at each other for the longest time "Sit up my bums falling asleep," Sherlock suddenly said rolling on to his knees.
John went to drop Sherlock's hand but the man tightened his grip giving no room for protest. John had to maneuver into a position where he wasn't interfering. They ended up sitting with their heads dangling over the edge of the couch their finger's intertwined on Sherlock's stomach.
"I like the world from this view," he told John quietly getting a giggle in response.
"I feel like I'm spinning," he said feeling warm and comfortable even though the room had taken on a slight spin.
"How much did you have to drink?" Sherlock questioned looking over at the doctor.
"A few though not as much as Lestrade, he could barely walk without help," John answered giggling at the memory.
"I find you very interesting when you are intoxicated," Sherlock stated John looked at him with a frown, "You're very honest."
"And I'm not any other time?" John asked not sober enough to feel offended.
"You are just not as open," Sherlock assured.
John snorted "I'm the one who's not open Mr. 'I can deduce what you had for breakfast without even asking'," he said.
Sherlock took on a frown now "I can be open when the time calls for it," he retorted.
John snorted again "Yeah well you were open with a girl you just met then your supposed best friend!" he snapped dropping Sherlock's hand sitting up a little too quickly.
"Are you…are you jealous?" Sherlock asked sitting up as well watching as John turned and pushed himself off the couch.
The Doctor stopped moving turning slowly to look at the younger man stuck between anger and shock. "Jealous," he hissed knowing that it sounded about right but he definitely wouldn't let Sherlock have the satisfaction, "No Sherlock I'm…I'm.." he stammered hating how he couldn't find what he wanted to say. For a matter of fact he wasn't even sure if he was anger at all.
"I'm drunk," John finished Sherlock narrowed his eyes most likely seeing something John didn't, "And I am going to bed now," John stated looking Sherlock over a moment longer before heading up to his room.
What the fuck did I do last night?
This was John's first thought as he became conscious. His head was pounding and his breath was rank in his nose.
Never, never ever again! God my head!
Even his thoughts made John grimace making him let out an audible moan. "Fuck!" he cried rubbing his cold hands on his face. That helped ease the pain a bit "Never again," he rasped using a hand to search the side table for a water bottle he kept there. Finding it John kept his eyes firmly closed and sat up enough to get a drink without spilling.
What day is it? Saturday? Friday?
John wasn't sure but Friday sounded about right.
Shit Mary!
He suddenly thought sitting up and regretting it instantly. Pain erupted through his body and he collapsed back down with a loud groan.
A quiet creak from one side of the room announced the door being opened. "John?" Sherlock's voice called sounding like a marching band in John's skull.
The doctor moaned grabbing his second pillow and threw it in the consulting detective's direction, "Don't be so loud," John complained rolling over burying his face in his remain pillow.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked sounding closer though not as loud.
"I feel like death," John replied, "What the hell was I thinking!" his stomach suddenly felt like rolling waves and nauseous. "God! What happened last night?" John asked remembering up until three drinks into the night but everything after was a blur.
"You and Lestrade drank." Sherlock stated.
John groaned "No shit!" he growled knowing his irritation was ill placed.
"Afterwards you came here and we talked," Sherlock continued not sounding phased though John noted the man wasn't saying everything but frankly he didn't want to hear what a fool he must have been.
John rolled back over cracking his eyes open and was glad to find that what little sunlight that flowed into the room didn't assault his raw eyes. Sherlock stood at the edge of the bed, looking down on John making the doctor suddenly aware he wasn't wearing a shirt just a bed sheet.
"Forget your clothes this morning Sherlock?" John asked hiding the red creeping to his face by turning to grab up his phone from the side table.
"Not at all, just in a bed sheet mood," Sherlock answered John snorted before looking to see new messages on his phone.
What happened last night? – GL
It seemed Greg was just as at a loss as John.
Your guess is as good as mine mate. – JW, John typed back slowly getting a reply mere seconds after he sent it.
My head feels like a truck ran over it! – GL
John laughed typing his reply, Mine isn't much better! Get some liquid in you. – JW
I vaguely remember you getting me home, thanks for that. – GL
Of course! Taking the day off I assume? – JW
There is no way I can take Donavan's attitude today! – GL
Is that a yes? – JW
Yes smartass! What about you, staying in with Sherlock? – GL
Probably not, after I get myself somewhat functioning I'll head home and see Mary. – JW
Have you talked to her since last night? – GL
No… - JW
It was nice knowing you John! – GL
John laughed setting the phone down noting that Sherlock was still nearby haven been standing there quietly watching John through the whole phone conversation.
"So have you gotten any more from the case?" John asked sitting against the headboard.
Sherlock blinked as if breaking from a trance "Infuriatingly no! I am very stuck though if there is another murder I assure it will come up with the answer." He replied sitting down lightly on the edge of the bed.
John had only witnessed a few times when Sherlock had been truly stuck and it was not a pretty thing to watch. "You'll figure it out with or without a third murder there's always something there that you might not see the first time," John told the man pulling his legs from out of the covers and turning to set his feet on the floor.
"John!" Sherlock yelled jumping to his feet suddenly dropping his bed sheet. John jumped in surprise than attempted to avert his eyes from the very naked man before him, "John! You can be an absolute genius when you put your feeble mind to it!" Sherlock cried shaking with anticipation before running from the room.
"What are you going on about?" John shouted after him but didn't get an answer.