Author's Note: It's Friday, guys! Happy Halloween to those of you who celebrate it, and Happy October 31st to those of you who don't. ;) Anyway, here's a nice calm chapter for you guys. And guess what? There will only be one or two more updates after this one, and then the story will be DONE. O.O Whoa. What do you think about that? I hope you have a great day, and don't forget to leave a comment! I love the reviews. *drools greedily* You guys enjoy, 'kay?
Disclaimer: Um, last time I checked I still don't own the characters. Darn it. If I did, Benedict and Martin would be working on filming a movie of SHERLOCK to be shown in theaters worldwide.
John folded the cable-knit jumper and slid it into the drawer, pushing it closed with his knee. He straightened up and looked around the bedroom. It had been a disaster area lately, which was unusual for him.
But Sherlock's kidnapping, the last-minute trip to Honduras, the trial, the unavoidable paperwork involved with the court case and the police records, the press conference that had managed to be arranged despite John's or Sherlock's wishes, (and with the lack Lestrade's permission, as well) the follow-up hospital visits which John had had to force Sherlock to show for, (John's suggestion for a therapist was met with immediate and flat refusal) had all kept him busy. He'd just enough time in the last few weeks to dig through his clothes in the morning to find something to wear and leave them in a pile on the floor at night before falling into bed late at night, trying to get a few hours of sleep before the full and hectic day tomorrow.
But things had calmed down. And the first thing John decided to do after getting home from work this Wednesday afternoon was to get his room back in order. Pristine and almost painfully neat, army style. They needed some groceries, but that could wait until tomorrow. He was not going to sleep in a wrecked room another night.
Sherlock was gone. Mrs. Hudson had seen him that morning; she'd texted John a few times a day while he was out, giving him updates on Sherlock. John knew they'd both been watching him a little closer than they probably should, and he knew Sherlock noticed, despite their attempts at discretion. He didn't blame Sherlock for getting out of the house, and he wasn't too worried. He'd give his friend until after dark.
He tugged once more on the corner of his bed throw and glanced once more around the room. He'd even run the vacuum up here. He liked the crisp stripes the vacuum cleaner left in the carpet. He nodded, and then grabbed his computer and headed downstairs to write a blog post.
He settled in his chair and pulled up his blogging dashboard…but what could he write? He felt like writing about what had happened would be a sort of…betrayal. And yet it was a big event in their lives just to let slip by without any chronicling. But if he did write some reference to it down, what would he say? "Sherlock nearly went crazy" wasn't at all right, but that was what stuck out about the case mostly in John's mind. He grinned. He could write about how Mrs. Hudson forced Sherlock to wear a tie…that was funny. She'd told him about it. But it didn't seem like something worthy of a whole post. He chewed his lip, brow furrowed in concentration.
"Blogging?"
John jumped.
"Sherlock! Don't do that, I'll shoot you on reflex one of these days," John said, slamming his computer closed and rubbing his face with both hands. Sherlock grinned and stood back up straight from where he'd been leaning to look over John's shoulder.
"Where've you been?" John asked, getting up to make himself a cuppa. He stopped in the kitchen doorway. The chemistry stuff was cleared away and the table was covered in bags from the market. "Wha- Sherlock, where'd this come from? Did you do this?"
"Did I do what?"
Sherlock's voice called from the living-room where he'd tumbled onto the couch with a book on unsolved cases of the 17th century.
John turned around and came back into the living-room.
"There's the shopping, Sherlock. In the kitchen."
"Well, you didn't get it. I needed some things anyway, so I-"
"You went to the market?"
Sherlock huffed and finally removed the book from in front of his face, looking extremely annoyed.
"No, John. I just found it all abandoned on the front doorstep, so naturally I thought to bring it up." His voice was sarcastic.
John shook his head and walked back into the kitchen to put the groceries away. Milk. Two cartons of it. He put one in the freezer so it wouldn't go bad. Some ground meat, a sack of sugar and flour… all normal stuff. Useful stuff. Stuff on the actual shopping list. But John hadn't said anything about shopping. Well, not since…
He understood.
He walked back into the living-room and sat down in the chair, pulling the laptop back open. He couldn't see Sherlock actually doing it, of course, but he knew he was stealing glances at him from behind his book when John wasn't looking.
"I forgot to put tile-cleaning solution on the list; we'll need to pick some up," he said, conversationally. Sherlock snorted and threw his book down, but John noted that he looked intensely relieved that John wasn't going to cross-examine him.
"You can pick it up tomorrow on the way home from work. I'm not going back."
John grinned, and nodded.
"Fine. But now that the table's cleaned off, could we try to keep it that way? At least until this weekend? I wanted a date over for dinner."
Sherlock shrugged, bounding up from the couch and walking into the kitchen to make the tea John had forgotten on seeing the groceries.
"Sure. If nothing comes up where I immediately need it…"
John rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention back to his blog. Maybe just typing a summary would help him organize his thoughts. He was halfway through the court-case when something occurred to him.
"Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
Sherlock returned from the kitchen and handed John a cup of tea, (without sugar) before settling into the chair opposite with his coffee.
"What happened to that Asian girl? That Chi-Sung, or whatever her name was? She wasn't put on trial, in fact I don't remember seeing her after we found you at all. Do you think she might have…"
"Escaped? No. Well, sort of." Sherlock had a cryptic little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"What do you mean?" John's brow furrowed deeper. "Is she…dead?"
"No."
"Then I don't understand-"
Sherlock sat the mug down beside his chair and leaned forward, all seriousness again.
"D'you want to see?"
Author's Note: Sherlock got the shopping! Unheard of. And not something John should probably expect to happen again. ;) Lemme know whatcha think, guys! Next chapter or two we'll be finding out what's up with Chi Sung, and then wrapping it up. Stay tuned; next update Monday!
P.S. Oh yeah, after the last chapter, did you see why I chose the story cover image that I did?