Chapter summary: A new case - John meets a woman and Sherlock is jealous.
Author's Note: From now on I will only focus in some important bits in the cases (from the TV show) for two reasons: one, if I retell all the cases from the very beginning to the end, this fic will end up being very long and two, remember this is an AU story in which Sherlock and John are brothers, so the bits I'm going to focus in will obviously have twists and they will definitely be a different from the scenes from the show/ACD stories.
Apologies in advance for my mistakes and for the long wait. I'm so sorry! But hey, good news: my holidays have just started! Thanks for reading and please, review!
"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?"
John shifted on his chair as his eyes fell on the man sitting across them.
"Right. You're doing that thing," Sebastian said to Sherlock and then looked at John. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do -"
"It's not a trick." Sherlock said, defending himself.
John remained silent.
"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story."
"Yes, I've seen him do it."
Sebastian nodded just slightly. "Put the wind up everybody. We hated him."
Without even turning his head and looking into Sherlock's eyes, John knew his brother was hurt by this man's words.
John knew who this man was. Sebastian Wilkes had been one of Sherlock's acquaintances back in uni. The man was studying Economics when Sherlock was studying Chemistry and John Medicine. John never got to talk to him or see him, but he knew him only by name.
Everything fell into its place now. Now John understood why Sherlock never liked to go out with his classmates and his few acquaintances.
'We hated him.'
"You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."
Sherlock looked at Sebastian straight in the eye. "I simply observed."
"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world - you're quite right. How could you tell?" Sebastian asked smugly. "You're gonna tell me there was a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?"
John faked a smile.
This man was stupid.
"No, I -"
"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes." Sebastian said, cutting Sherlock off, and smiling again.
John curled his lips upwards, just slightly, when he felt Sherlock's eyes on Sebastian. "I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me."
Sebastian laughed.
"I went to see about a job at that surgery."
"How was it?" Sherlock asked, not so interested on John but on the case they were working on.
John couldn't help but smile. Sarah, the doctor in charge, was lovely. She was more than lovely. She was amazing, sweet, the kind of woman John fancied.
God, he liked her so much.
"It's great. She's great."
Sherlock frowned and turned to see him for the first time in the day. "Who?"
John bit his lip. "The job."
"She?"
"It."
John watched Sherlock twisting his mouth and continuing writing down his own notes. John remembered being asked thousands and thousands of questions every time he had a date. When they lived together years ago Sherlock would always find an excuse to not to let him go to see his girlfriends, and Sherlock would even appear in the middle of his dates lying he was in pain, that Mummy had called and needed to talk to him, that Mycroft had again threatened him with telling their parents about their sometimes unhealthy food habits.
John remembered old times.
And he even smiled a bit.
But he was so wrong.
It turned out that the simple death of an important employee of a Bank was a murder and that this man was involved in a web of Chinese smugglers.
And now they were not looking for the killer but for clues.
The damn killer left two numbers. Codes.
Damn.
"So, the numbers are references."
John nodded. "To books."
"To specific pages and specific words on those pages."
"Right. So..." John looked at the boxes of books. "Fifteen and one... that means -"
"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read." The detective explained.
"OK. So what's the message?"
"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned."
John looked around the flat and sighed. There were boxes of books from the banker's and from another victim. Apparently the killer was leaving codes in the crime scenes and apparently both victims had the same books.
John smiled to himself as he made his way into the living room, only to find Sherlock's tired expression, his long fingers messing his dark curls and looking completely desperate.
"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight."
John smiled. "Actually, I've got a date," the doctor announced, without really caring the meaning of his words.
And without caring about the man in front of him.
"What?"
"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun."
John only smiled even widely, because this reminded him of his first date. He was seventeen and he was going out with one girl from school. He had spent more than an hour in the bathroom, trying to comb his hair when Sherlock shouted he had to cancel the date because the girl was not going to sleep with him.
"That's what I was suggesting."
"No it wasn't. At least I hope not."
Sherlock looked at him, slightly angry.
John ignored him.
He shouldn't have.
"Where are you taking her?"
"Cinema."
"Oh, dull, boring, predictable," the detective said walking towards him and handed him a piece of paper. "Why don't you try this?"
John looked at the paper. It was a Chinese circus and the first thing that got to John's mind was clowns, very silly clowns and tigers inside cages and an elephant with the ability to stand in one foot.
"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice."
That night, Sherlock sat on the sofa and stared at the map of pictures of both crimes scenes he and John had seen, a list of the books the victims had in common and at the symbols left.
And at John moving from one place to another within the flat.
Sherlock had observed John closely. He knew the doctor was not an ordinary man at all. John Watson was different, so common, so pedestrian, but yet he was so different and so fascinating.
To Sherlock John Watson was a puzzle he wanted to solve.
The detective could swear he had met this man before. He felt as if he knew John after living a whole lifetime together, but they had only been living together for merely two months.
"John is different. He's special," Sherlock said softly, not looking at his brother but at the door, as if John would come back in at any moment soon. "He keeps me entertained."
Mycroft laughed sarcastically. "Does he?"
"Oh yes," Sherlock almost panted. "And not so many men had done that in the past."
Sherlock had really meant it.
John was entertaining him as no man had done before.
Sherlock wanted John so badly.
John Watson was nothing like the man he had had before. Victor Trevor, his latest lover, was all the opposite. Well, John was all the opposite if compared to Victor.
Victor Trevor liked science, classical music, good wine, horses... Victor had been one of the posh men that were always behind Sherlock's steps - hanging on his finger, waiting to be allowed in his bed.
They had all been so boring.
But Victor had been the exception.
Tall, slender, toned where he needed to be, good taste, soft lips, important.
With Victor Sherlock could calmly drink an entire bottle of wine and go straight to bed and have sex all night long.
But John was all the opposite.
John Watson was short. He was an army doctor - wounded, discarded because apparently he was useless to his country. John liked beer, football, cars, stupid things Neanderthal men liked.
John liked women.
John was common, boring, predicable sometimes.
But oh God, Sherlock knew that man was hiding something - keeping something glorious from him.
John might be bi.
And Sherlock was determined to have John Watson on his bed.
"Hi. I have two tickets reserved for tonight."
"And what's the name?"
John bit his lip. "Holmes."
"Actually, I have three in that name," the manager said.
"No, I don't think so. We only booked two -"
"And then I phoned back and got one for myself as well," Sherlock said, cutting John off and looking at Sarah. There was a fake smile across his face. "I'm Sherlock."
Both men immediately realised she was nervous, a very tiny little bit angry knowing John's flatmate was there.
In their date.
Sherlock hated her.
"Hi."
Once Sarah left to the loo, John decided to let Sherlock know it was a lot not good to follow your brother- your flatmate to his dates.
"You couldn't let me have just one night off?"
"We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place -"
"Fine. You do that; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."
Sherlock frowned. "I need your help."
"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!" John snapped, angrily.
"Like what?"
"You're kidding."
Sherlock shook his head. "What's so important?"
"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. Do you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to -"
The detective felt exasperated now. "What?"
"While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!- hey!"
The woman was smiling, fucking smiling behind John.
"Ready?"
Sherlock knew he had to do something.
And quickly.
"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. He had the need to kill that woman. "Oh, God."
The detective felt the Doctor saying soothingly words to that useless woman.
But instead of 'getting the message' this Sarah woman was far from it.
"So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living."
Sherlock bit his lip. "Consulting detective."
"Oh."
This was awkward.
"What are these squiggles?"
the detective felt like killing her.
"They're numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect."
The woman laughed nervously. "Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that."
Stupid.
"So these numbers – it's a cipher."
"Exactly."
"And each pair of numbers is a word."
What?
"How did you know that?" Sherlock asked surprised she had some brains inside her skull.
"Well, two words have already been translated, here," Sarah said, pointing at the already translated symbols.
"John!" Sherlock shouted. "John, look at this!" The detective pointed at the picture in his hands. "Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!"
"Where are you going?"
Sherlock was putting on his coat. "To the museum; to the restoration room. Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"
"At what?!" John asked, not knowing what his brother was talking about.
"The book, John," Sherlock said as if what he had said was the most stupid thing in the world. "The book – the key to cracking the cipher! Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."
It didn't take much to the detective to decipher the code. Each pair of numbers referred to the famous London A to Z. The first number was the page and the second the reference.
He wanted to impress John.
"John! John! I've got it!" Sherlock ran into the kitchen. "The cipher! The book! It's the London A to Z that they're using -"
God, no.
The living room windows were painted.
DEAD MAN.
John opened his eyes. He found himself tied to a chair. He knew he had been hit on the head.
He felt himself dying.
"Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes..."
The army doctor panicked.
"I... I'm not Holmes."
Promise for next chapter: Sherlock must find John before he gets hurt. And John starts to see things he prefers to ignore.
See you next Tuesday!