Chapter 5

'We live like this?'

John looked back over his shoulder at where Sherlock stood in the doorway of their flat, with a wary expression plastered on his face.

'Ummmm...' the doctor glanced around sheepishly at the general disorder and hurried to shut off the television that they had left on, and to throw a few dish towels over Sherlock's more exotic looking experiments in the kitchen.

'Work has been keeping us busy,' John assured him, beckoning the man to come inside and make himself at home. Cautiously Sherlock walked in and closed the door behind him.

'Does anything look familiar?'

The consulting detective did a slow twirl, but was forced to shake his head with a grimace, 'nothing, I'm afraid.'

John looked around for inspiration.

'Here, try this chair,' he suggested, gesturing excitedly towards a cushy armchair by an unlit fireplace. Sherlock didn't think this was going to work, but he obediently came forward; murmuring a soft thank you as John fluffed up a Union Jack decorated cushion and inserted it behind his back.

The detective smiled regretfully, as John stepped back with an expectant expression. 'It is a comfortable chair.'

Temporarily accepting defeat John returned the smile, removing his jacket and flopping into the chair opposite to stare at the ceiling, 'Yeah, it's your favourite chair. Never mind that, let's take a break.'

The two men fell into a comfortable silence, and Sherlock busied himself by looking around him.

He was quite surprised by the size of the flat in such a busy part of central London. They were lucky to have acquired it, but it was a shame that it was covered in so much junk. Suddenly, his eyes collided with a creamy bleached skull above the fireplace. Horrified, he sat there transfixed as the empty eye sockets stared back at him in such a belligerent way that it took him a few seconds to recall that John was a medical doctor. Surely the man could keep the item in his room, as it was hardly appropriate for the mantel of all places. What would a visitor to their flat say?!

Eventually, Sherlock averted his eyes to escape its relentless staring, and his gaze fell on the other man in the room.

John.

His friend.

His best friend, in fact.

A friend who apparently was both his flat mate as well as his work colleague.

We must like each other very much, for us to be together all the time.

'This must be distressing for you,' Sherlock said slowly, not sure what he was trying to say,'for you to see me like this. Can I get you something from the kitchen? Something hot to drink?'

John turned to look across at him as though he had grown a second head.

'No, that's alright,' the doctor said weakly as he stood, reaching out one hand to take Sherlock's coat, 'I'll put the kettle on. We should talk.'

The small man hung up Sherlock's Belfast before heading into the untidy kitchen, where he efficiently searched for clean mugs and got out the tea bags. However, when Sherlock finally had a hot cup of tea warming his hands, a sudden flash of insight seemed to come to him, and he glanced at the back of John's head in horror.

We are a couple!

Sherlock was so rattled by this revelation that he had to put his cup down on the coffee table, before he dropped it. John turned his head around at the soft thud, 'Drink it, Sherl and I want you to eat something a bit later. Don't fight me on this.'

'Do we fight often?' he asked anxiously.

John frowned in confusion at the odd question as he resumed his seat, 'Some days more than others.'

The doctor sipped at his tea with obvious relish, unaware of the utter panic that was stampeding through the chest of his flat mate.

'How long have we been living together?!'

'About 18 months,' John answered immediately. 'What's wrong? Why are you making that face?'

18 months!

Sherlock looked aghast, confused and surprised by this information. What should he say? Should he say anything? He didn't want to upset the other man who had been nothing but decent and kind to him.

'Sherlock?'

'John, I hope this doesn't distress you, but I don't remember you at all,' he eventually said in a hesitant manner, 'I don't remember us as friends and as ...more than friends.'

Tea sprayed gustily in all directions as John swallowed the wrong way, and patiently Sherlock waited until the man's coughing subsided.

'We're just friends, Sherlock!' John spluttered feebly. 'Nothing more.'

Astonished anew Sherlock groped for the elusive memory fragment that had now frustratingly vanished. 'I thought I remembered something. I apologise.'

'Wait, I know what this is about and I can't believe it! Of all the things in the world for you to remember!' John cried in exasperation, waving his arms around to express his agitation. 'When we first started to work together, it was a bit of a running gag where everyone thought we were dating.'

Sherlock frowned, 'everyone thought that? Why?'

The other man sighed and sat back into his chair as he considered how to answer that.

'It used to piss me off in the beginning, I can tell you!' John admitted with a snort of annoyance, 'it still does sometimes. You had the right approach which was to ignore it entirely. You see, I've been through some bad stuff and I haven't let anyone get close to me in a long time, and neither have you. The anomaly was enough to peak everyone's interest; made me wish sometimes that I could take an extended vacation from reality.'

'What are you saying?!' Sherlock asked, his voice pitching up higher than normal, 'my presence embarrasses you?'

Startled, John stared at him in a shocked manner, as though the idea that his behaviour in this matter had affected Sherlock at some level, had never occurred to him.

'No, Sherlock,' he said in a low voice as he leaned forward, 'Don't ever think that, no matter what I say or do. I wouldn't give you up, not for anything.'

Sherlock could feel a big grin of relief slowly creep over his face. He many not have a clue of who he was, but it was clear that he was loved and well regarded by at least one person in this world.

'Is this okay, Sherlock?' John pressed as the man said nothing.

'It's fine. You said in the car that I saved your life,' Sherlock reminded him eagerly, sensing something exciting here. 'Can you finish that story? How did that happen? Did someone try to rob you?'

'No, nothing like that,' John said with a grin, as he picked up the remnants of his tea, 'there was this one time when in a case of mistaken identity, the Triad had kidnapped my girl and I, and she was about to be skewed by a spear, and you walked out of nowhere. That would be on the list of top ten saves.'

Sherlock stared in silence for a long moment, stunned by the man's flippant tone, 'What kind of doctor did you say you are exactly?'

John snorted with laughter and winked at him from over the edge of his mug as if to say, you haven't heard anything yet!