Ugh, I drank too much last night. I scrunched up my brows and continued to do the tiling in the kitchen while battling the headache pounding away in my head. Unfortunately for me, this was rather hard to do while working. I was just lucky Mrs. Hudson had thought to bring by some aspirin with my breakfast this morning. What's more, Sherlock seemed to be doing some rough housing upstairs and the noise from that was upsetting my head even more. Finally, I had had enough. I set down my tools and stomped my way up the stairs to confront him. After all, no one else was going to. John had left to go grocery shopping and Mrs. Hudson had gone to the sandwich shop next door for a date. I just want some peace and quiet today.
Having reached his door, I bypassed the courtesy of knocking and simply walked in to find Sherlock looking rather proud at the fact that there was some stranger in a turban knocked unconscious in one of his chairs. I stood there a moment, simply in shock, before Sherlock turned around and took notice of me.
"Ah, perfect. Would you mind helping me a second?"
I opened my mouth to respond, a finger pointed at the body, but he cut me off before I could respond.
"Of course you wouldn't. Now grab a hold of his ankles."
Sherlock went over and began heaving the man up off the couch, soon realizing that I wasn't helping.
"Well, come on then! He's not going to move himself."
I sighed, not in the mood to have an argument with him, and reluctantly grabbed his ankles to help Sherlock move him. We carried the body down the stairs and Sherlock, surprisingly, hailed a cab. I was shocked how he somehow managed to get one on his first try, but even more so that one would just accept the fact that we were carrying a body. It made sense though, once I thought about it; helping Sherlock sit the man up in the cab. He probably looks like some drunkard that we're shipping home after a rough night. Although, I still question what Sherlock was doing with him earlier.
Sherlock paid the cab and began to head inside, apparently forgetting I was there with him. I groaned and went inside myself, but whereas Sherlock went back upstairs, I simply headed back to my own flat.
"You're welcome." I muttered to myself, getting back to work.
Mrs. Hudson returned not long afterwards, looking pleased. Must've hit it off well then. And thankfully brought me some lunch as well. I was starved and hardly noticed it until she forced a sandwich upon me. Maybe fifteen minutes after she arrived, the windows and kitchen appliances arrived for my flat also. So I quickly helped the workers begin to unpack them when John returned home as well.
"Oh, hey Jess. Do you need any help?" He questioned, looking between me and the door, as though debating on whether he really wanted to offer his help after all.
"I'll be fine." I said. "The other workers are helping me move everything in… Have a row with someone? You look a bit tense."
He let out a sigh. "Yeah. Believe it or not, I had a row with the chip and pin machine."
I smirked, lifting up the box containing the microwave with ease. "Might I suggest staying away from the self-service lines in the supermarket next time?"
He raised a brow, walking beside me as I headed in. "How'd you know?"
"Mrs. Hudson told me you left to go grocery shopping and you had a row with a chip and pin machine. It's not hard to put together."
He chuckled, connecting the dots. "I suppose you're right." His smile soon dropped though. "Best get up to Sherlock then. Who knows what he's done to the flat since I've been gone."
I nodded. "That'd be best. Make sure nothing's broken. He was doing something with some guy earlier."
"Right." John sighed and gave me a short wave before heading upstairs.
Adjusting the microwave in my arms, I went into my own flat and dropped it off in the kitchen with the rest of the goods, before turning to the two workers who had just finished bringing in the windows.
"Thanks for helping me out. I'm guessing there's paperwork?"
One of the guys nodded and grabbed a clipboard from off the box holding the dishwasher, before coming over to me.
"Sign here and here, then we'll be on our way."
I quickly signed and let the two take their leave, glad that they helped, but even more glad that my headache was finally going away. Rolling up the sleeves on my light blue plaid over-shirt, I took a deep breath and let it out.
"Time to get to work."
John walked into his flat and took a look around, inspecting for any sort of damages that Jess said to look out for. Looks as though he never moved, but Jess mentioned someone being up here. If there was, there's no sign of him.
"You took your time." Sherlock said, not even looking up from his book.
"Yeah. I didn't get the shopping."
"What? Why not?" He finally glanced up.
"Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and pin machine." John grumbled, more embarrassed to be telling Sherlock than Jess. At least Jess won't make some stupid comment.
"Y-You had a row with a machine."
"Sort of. It sat there while I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?"
"Take my card." Sherlock gestured to the kitchen.
John headed in, before turning around and stopping. "You could always go yourself. You've been sitting there all morning and haven't even moved since I left. Although Jess mentioned something about some guy being here, but there's no sign of anything."
Sherlock zoned out for a moment, remembering Jess helping him take the body out to the cab. She obviously doesn't do well at keeping secrets. He thought.
"And what happened about that case you were offered? The Jaria diamond."
Sherlock closed his book. "Not interested." He then used his foot to slip a saber further under his chair. "I've sent them a message."
"So Jess was right then." John muttered, running his fingers over a scratch on the table.
"Hm?"
"She told me to check for damages. Seems I'm not the only one who had a row." John grumbled, before grabbing the card and heading out once more to do the grocery shopping.
The moment he heard the front door close, Sherlock hurried down the stairs and to 221C. The door was already opened so he simply waltzed right in.
"Jess! Jess Huttner!"
There was a loud 'thud' and a curse from the kitchen and Sherlock walked in to find Jess sitting up and rubbing her head in front of the sink she had been installing.
"Blood hell, what's your problem Sherlock?"
"What did you tell John?" Sherlock said, getting straight to the point.
"You'd think you'd have a bit of courtesy seeing as I helped you drag that guy down the stairs no questions asked." She grumbled, but Sherlock could care less about her whining.
"Answer the question."
She stopped rubbing her head and sighed. "If you really want to know, I only said that he should check for damages because you were doing something rowdy with that guy from earlier. I just assumed that he should know what kind of mess his flat mate was getting into."
Sherlock stared at her, searching for any lie in her statement, as she stared back evenly. He normally found his stare intimidated people, but Jess didn't seem to be backing down and stared back with such intensity, that Sherlock silently wondered if her stare bothered people as well. Finally, he broke away and turned around to head back into his own flat. Jess didn't seem to care and silently, Sherlock wanted her to be more… aware of him.
He was used to people doing something, anything, around him. Even Donovan was someone who—although he despised her—he considered entertaining. If only because it was amusing to watch her get upset when he pointed out something. She was jealous of him whereas John was more… surprised. John was very open about what he thought of Sherlock's deduction abilities and Sherlock enjoyed that little stroke of his ego. But Jess… She was different.
She didn't seem to care about Sherlock at all. To her, he didn't seem interesting or intimidating. To her, he was probably just like anybody else in the world and that's what made Sherlock tick. Because he was not like everyone else. He was better. At least, he thought so. Jess is just too… dull. He decided. She doesn't care because she hasn't seen what I can do. Maybe, if I can get her interested, she'll change. She'll realize that I am different. I am not like everyone else. I am someone interesting.
Having been thinking this over for a while, he hardly noticed the set of footsteps coming up the stairs. John had returned with his groceries, so Sherlock grabbed John's laptop and pretended that he had been surfing the web the whole time.
"Don't worry about me, I can manage." Said John.
Sherlock began checking his email as John set the groceries on the table and came into the living room.
"Is that my computer?"
"Of course." Sherlock replied, beginning to type a response to an email. "Mine's in the bedroom."
"What? And you couldn't be bothered to get up?"
Sherlock was silent.
"It's password protected." John said, changing the subject.
"In a matter of speaking. It took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox."
John quickly went over and shut his laptop. "Right, Thank you."
John took the laptop and went to sit down in his usual chair, setting the machine beside him on the floor. Sherlock, simply put his hands back into their previous steeple position as John began flipping through the mail.
"Oh." He said, finding some bills in the mess of papers. "Need to get a job."
Sherlock groaned. "Ugh, dull."
The flat went into silence and John leaned forward on his chair, in an attempt to make conversation.
"Listen, um… If you'd be able to lend me some… Sherlock, are you listening?"
Sherlock was silent for a moment and just when John was going to assume he wasn't listening, Sherlock spoke.
"I need to go to the bank."
Swiftly, he got up from his chair and John sighed before following the man out the door. Unexpectedly, Sherlock went into Jess's flat and John trailed behind him confused.
"I thought we were going to the bank?"
"We are. I just thought we should pick someone up before we go."
John raised a brow. "Jess? What would you need Jess for?"
Sherlock didn't answer and instead went into Jess's kitchen and stood there, knowing she had heard him come in.
"Do you need something?" She said from her place under the sink. "I'm a bit busy at the moment."
"No you're not. You just finished and you're simply hiding down there right now in an attempt to get me to leave and make me think you're busy."
Jess sighed and came out from under the sink, her hair soaked in water. "Yeah, and? I was busy and still am. I need to install the dishwasher and the windows still. Not to mention finish the tiling. Now what do you want?"
"Uh," John cut in. "Why are you wet?"
She gave him a bored glance. "Because I forgot to turn off the water."
"O-Oh." John went quiet again and Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"A simple mistake, really. And I want you to come with us."
Jess gave him a look. "And you're not even going to tell me where you're trying to take me? If I didn't know any better, Sherlock, I'd think you were purposely trying to get me intrigued about you." Jess suddenly smirked. "In most places, that's called flirting."
Sherlock frowned while John snorted.
"You know she's right."
"John, shut up." Sherlock growled with a glare, before turning back to Jess. "I'm not flirting. I simply want you to come with us."
Jess sighed, dropping her smirk and looked around the kitchen at the half done remodeling.
"I seriously don't think I can. I still have all this work to do and—"
She was cut off as a phone began ringing, well, screaming was more like it. Jess immediately frowned and answered her cell phone.
"What."
John raised a brow at her tone, but Sherlock already knew who it was. Probably her ex calling her.
"Today?! I told you in a week!" She shouted, fist tightening around her phone. "I don't give a damn if you are moving in with Chris! The bill is still paid off until the end of this month and you're just going to waste—" She was obviously cut off by the person on the other line and she got up off the kitchen floor, holding a hand to her head as her headache grew worse. "Well, where the hell am I supposed to put all my stuff?! I have—No! I already said it's paid off! How would you know anyway?! I paid the bill!"
John was a bit surprised at Jess's attitude, but felt bad for her. He knew what it was like to deal with someone like that. His own sister was a good example. Sherlock, however, was growing more and more frustrated with Jess and was very close to just taking the phone from her and hanging up on her ex.
"Fine! I'll pick it all up now just…" Jess sighed, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll be there in a little bit, Angel. Bye."
She put her phone away and glanced up at Sherlock and John, who had followed her out of the kitchen.
"Sorry guys, but I really can't go now. My ex just gave me the next few hours to go pick up all my stuff, so—"
"Just buy new furniture. You're coming with us."
"Sherlock!" John said, but Jess was in no mood to deal with Sherlock's haughtiness at the moment.
She quickly stepped towards Sherlock, grabbed his lapel with a clenched fist and pulled him down the few inches to her level.
"Listen. I'm in no mood to deal with you right now and I also have to go deal with my stupid cheating ex and, most likely, her newest catch. I have a headache from my last encounter with them and there's no way in hell you are going to force me to leave any of my things and make me come with you on your stupid little trip. Now I suggest you take a hint you mindless git and back off before I give you a nice bruise to match mine."
Sherlock glared back, only slightly surprised at Jess's confrontation, and opened his mouth to respond.
I flexed my aching fist as I sat at a red light in a truck I rented, smiling slightly to myself. It was nice to let out a bit of stress, but even more so, to let it out on Sherlock's face. My grin grew wider as I remembered the shocked look on his face after he'd insulted me and I had knocked him to the ground. Ah, that was nice. My smile dropped as I pulled up in front of Angel's place. Now I just have to get through the next couple of hours without punching anyone else in the face.
Parking in the front and walking up to the door, I unlocked it with my key, which I was going to return as soon as I was done, and greeted Angel with a frown as she cuddled up next to Chris on the couch.
"Oh, hello, Jess." She greeted, waving a hand towards our—her room. "Go ahead and get your things. Don't mind Chris and I."
Chris, in particular, smirked before kissing Angel passionately. I grit my teeth, but walked past them to begin gathering my things. Once my articles of clothing and personal items had been gathered, I came back up to begin the argument that I knew was going to happen when I asked for my furniture as well. Of course, Chris and Angel had been getting more and more intimate as I took my things out of her flat and I would have to interrupt that as well.
"Angel." I half-growled, trying to keep myself from knocking out Chris as he got up off her from their position on the couch. My couch. I think I may just let them keep it. Who knows how many times they've shagged on my poor couch.
"Hm? Are you done already?"
"No. I want my furniture as well."
She raised a brow, sitting up and allowing Chris to wrap his arm around her shoulder and fiddle absentmindedly with her bra strap.
"Your furniture?"
I nodded. "Yes. I want the kitchen chairs and table, the armchair, and the couch."
She immediately frowned at that. "They aren't yours. We bought them together."
"No, we shopped for them together, but I was the one who bought them and I would like them back."
"They're mine, Jess."
"Angel, I'd rather not argue about this. I just want my furniture and I will even let you keep the damn couch."
"Look, Jess." Chris began, but I set him a scathing glare.
"I suggest you stay out of it, Chris. This is between the two of us."
He snarled and started to get up, but Angel held onto his arm, tugging him lightly back onto the couch.
"You can take the armchair, but the rest is mine."
"But I paid for all of it! I said I'd let you keep the couch!"
I was beginning to get frustrated now and wondered how well I could control my anger when my headache was back ten fold and Angel was pressing the issue on the table and chairs.
"And I never said I wouldn't take the couch, but I want the table and chairs."
"And what are you going to do with them?! You're moving in with him!" I shouted, pointing a finger at Chris.
She ignored my anger and shrugged. "I don't know, sell them maybe?"
That's it. I stood up and went straight for the kitchen, determined to take back what was mine.
"What are you doing?!" Angel shouted after me, standing up with Chris.
"What's it look like? I'm taking my chairs and table." I grabbed the chairs easily and left the building to put them in the back of the truck.
Angel had followed me about halfway down the stairs, but I was already heading back up to get the armchair and table.
"You can't take them!"
I ignored her, easily shoving past her and back up to the flat and grabbing the armchair. It was a bit more difficult to get down the stairs, but I somehow managed with adrenaline pumping through my system and went back up to grab the last thing, the table. Unfortunately, Angel was there blocking my path back into the apartment with Chris glaring at me from behind her.
"Move."
"No. I won't let you have it."
"Angel."
"I won't!"
Giving up on being even a little bit nice, I grabbed her and shoved her into Chris before taking the table and heading down the stairs. They had both followed me, but I had already closed and locked the back of the truck, so there was no way they could get my things out of it.
"Give them back!" Angel cried, but I could tell that the tears were over-exaggerated now that there were witnesses watching. You'd think people would learn to mind their own business.
"I already told you, I paid for them, so they are rightfully mine. If you want to take me to court, go right ahead." I muttered.
"That's not fair!"
I rolled my eyes. She knew right off the bat that I was the daughter of a famous lawyer and that I had gone to law school. "That's why I like you" she had said. "You've got the brains, the looks, and the passion. Better than any man I've ever known." I pulled out the keys to the truck, but Angel had other plans and grabbed the keys from me.
"Angel." I sighed. I was tired of playing games with her.
"No! I hate you, Jess! I hate you!"
I took a few steps forward and swiftly grabbed the hand that my keys were in, only for her to slap me hard on the cheek, where I had been hit the previous day. That seemed to be the trigger and I growled, ripping the keys from her grip and pulling back a hand to hit her as well, only to get tackled from the side. Chris had made his reappearance.
We fought tooth and nail, but because there were bystanders gathered around us, someone had eventually called the police and we were pulled apart, spitting blood from our mouths. The two of us were placed in handcuffs and shoved up against a couple of squad cars, but Angel managed to somehow talk the police out of arresting Chris. The odds were stacked against me, what with her and the bystanders agreeing that I had caused the fight, and I was soon forced into the back of the police car and read my rights.
My parents are going to be pissed. I thought, as I watched the scenery pass by on the way down to the Yard. Once we were there, I was yanked from the squad car and brought to an interrogation room to be quickly questioned. It couldn't have gone by slower and, once I had made my phone call to Mrs. Hudson, I was sent to go wait in a cell. Hours went by and I winced occasionally as I shifted, finally feeling the aches and pains brought on by the fight I had earlier. Mrs. Hudson is taking far longer than I thought. I sighed and leaned my head back against the cold wall when I distinctly heard footsteps heading this way. Opening an eye to see who it was, I was a bit surprised to find, not Mrs. Hudson, but Sherlock and John with the officer as he unlocked the cell.
"Well isn't this surprising." I muttered, getting up off the floor and heading towards the open cell door.
"My God, Jess." John said, noticing the way I half-limped to them. "Are you okay?"
I raised a brow at him. "Do I look okay?"
"W-Well, no."
"Okay then. Thanks for paying bail and I'll pay you guys back as soon as I find another job."
I started to walk off by myself, when Sherlock called out after me.
"Where are you going?"
I turned around and gave him a look. "Hm, I don't know, maybe to go pick up the truck that has my things in it, that is still sitting in front of my ex's flat. After that? I'm thinking I might hit the bar again. Maybe find something interesting to get my mind off of the obvious pain I'm in. Later."
I gave a short wave and headed out the front doors and hailed a cab. The moment I went to climb in the back though, a strong hand gripped my arm and pulled me away from the cab. Seriously? Can't you just leave me alone for one day? I glared up at Sherlock's equally angered face, smirking just slightly at the bruise on his cheek from earlier today.
"Nice bruise."
"Shut up. And you're not going anywhere but back to Baker Street."
"And who are you to force me to go back? Last I checked, you got that bruise for trying to force me to go somewhere."
John cautiously peek his head out from behind Sherlock. "Sherlock? Maybe we should just let her go."
"No. You will come back."
Immediately, I swung my fist at him, but he easily caught it and my whole arm shook from the effort of trying to fight once more.
"Leave. Me. Alone."
"No."
I growled, in absolutely no mood to deal with him and shifted my position, moving my right leg in between Sherlock's legs and turning my whole body around, giving me the leverage I needed to throw Sherlock's body over my shoulder and onto the sidewalk. His eyes were wide in surprise and I stood up straight with a glower.
"I'm not someone you can manipulate, Sherlock." Glancing up at John, who flinched, I nodded. "Have a good night, John."
"R-Right."
With that, I stormed off and into my waiting cab to get back my furniture. The whole way there though, I thought and thought. I was beginning to regret what I did to Sherlock and silently scolded myself for taking out my anger on him. He just pushed me too far today. Everything did. Maybe, once I get some energy out moving my furniture into my flat, I'll be a bit more willing to do whatever it is he wanted me to do. I groaned and rubbed my temples as the cab pulled up to the truck and let me out. After paying him, with what little cash I had, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and drove the truck over to Baker Street.
It was well past dark, but I could care less and quickly did my best to relocate the furniture into the nearly finished living room of my flat. I could feel eyes watching me the whole time, but ignored the tall, lanky silhouette in the upper story window and continued to move the furniture. With myself as beat up as I was though, it was getting harder and harder to move the heavy pieces and the armchair was the last thing I had left to move by the time I was near close to collapsing from exhaustion.
But the rental truck needs to be returned first thing in the morning. I can't just wait here and not move the chair… and it's my favorite chair too. I sighed and wiped the sweat from my brow before heaving the chair towards the first few steps leading up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I strained my muscles and pulled it up the steps with a hell of a lot of effort. So much, in fact, that once I had gotten it that far, my legs gave out and I fell back onto my butt.
"Shit." I cursed. "Overworked myself."
I breathed heavily for a good while before forcing my shaking limbs to move and standing up to try once more.
"Do you need some help?"
I sighed and looked up the stairs to see John standing there unsure as to whether to approach me or not.
"Do I need it? Probably. The question is, do I want it."
John took few seconds to process that and changed his question. "Do you want it, then?"
I smiled with a shake of my head, looking down at the fabric of the armchair that had been with me since my initial move to London.
"Not really, but why pass up a generous offer?"
John slowly smiled as well and hurried down the rest of the stairs to help me out. He grabbed one end of the chair and I grabbed the other and we both began trying to get the foul thing towards my flat. The problem was, not the chair, but my own muscles not wanting to cooperate. Trying to lift the chair was an effort in and of itself, but trying to move and keep the chair up was even worse and I grunted with effort as I felt my fingers beginning to slip. How the hell did I manage to take this thing down from Angel's flat to begin with?!
Just as I was about to shout to John to stop as the chair was slipping and would—most definitely—end up falling on my foot, another set of hands grabbed the end of the chair where I was and lifted it up with little difficulty. Imagine my surprise to see that it was Sherlock helping me out, although the glare on his face said that he didn't want to be.
"Uh, thanks, Sherlock."
He 'humphed' and helped John and I move the chair into the living room over by the couch. Once it was there, I collapsed on the couch and closed my eyes as I tried to control my heavy breathing.
"Thanks… John… Sherlock."
"Are you sure you're okay?" John asked, ever concerned.
I chuckled a bit. "Not in the slightest!"
He smiled and rolled his eyes a bit before asking me to sit up. I did so, and winced. I was much sorer than I thought and the few seconds of relaxing on the couch only proved that fact.
"Where were you hit then, other than your face?" John asked.
"Everywhere, really. Kicked me good in the shin punched me in the stomach and ribs, hit me on the head. It was a fight, John."
He nodded and pressed rather painfully on my shins.
"Damn, John! That hurts!"
"Sorry, but I need to check for broken bones. Have you had any trouble breathing?"
I lightly shook my head, becoming more painfully aware of my headache.
"No. I'm pretty sure my ribs are just bruised."
He nodded once more, but still asked, "Can you still lift your shirt up so I can check?"
I reluctantly nodded and lifted it up to show the dark colored bruises my abdomen was now sporting.
"Jesus, Jess! What were you fighting, a bear?"
I chuckled, but hissed in pain as he pressed on those bruises as well. "Ngh, nope. But I'll tell you this, he was worse off than me and will be needing something more than plastic surgery to rearrange his face."
John laughed and got up, allowing me to lower my shirt. "Good to know you can pack a punch. I'll remember to stay away from you when you're angry."
"Speaking of punching," I said, starting out softly before looking up at Sherlock who had been standing around and watching us. "Sorry about before. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."
"No, you shouldn't have."
"Sherlock." John grumbled, but I waved it off.
"It's fine. He's right. Although, I would like to know my diagnosis, doctor Watson." I chuckled a bit and he smiled back.
"Well, you're definitely going to be hurting for a while and it seems you have sprained your ankle too. My suggestion is lots of rest, an Advil or two, and ice some of those bruises and you should be back in tip top shape in a few days."
"Right. Advice I will definitely take into account, aside from the lots of rest part. I need to return that rental truck tomorrow, finish tiling the kitchen, install the dishwasher, and then install the windows. And I should probably-"
"No, no, no." John chided. "Lots of rest means lots of rest. I'll ask Mrs. Hudson to give you a break on the flat fixing for a day or so and I'll go ahead and return the truck tomorrow. I have to go in for a job interview anyway."
I sighed. "John, it's my flat now and I need to finish fixing it in order to make it livable. And I can return the truck. There's no need for you to—"
"Bullocks. You've been in two fights, got drunk, got a hangover, fought and broke up with your girlfriend all in two nights. You need to rest and it's no skin off my back to help a neighbor out."
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "Thanks John."
"Like I said, it's no problem at all."
"Oh, Sherlock?" I opened my eyes and glanced over at the, obviously bored, man. "Why did you want me to come back here so bad?"
"You were in no shape to go out fighting with your ex once more, and I would rather not deal with another drunken episode of yours."
"It couldn't have been that bad." I muttered.
"It wasn't." John said. "Don't listen to him, he's just upset that you managed to knock him to the ground twice."
"I am not upset… merely… aggravated."
I snorted, but went on. "Right, well why did you want me coming with you earlier too? Where were you two going anyway? Out to dinner?"
"We're not gay!" John said, exasperatedly and I smiled.
"I know. I just like teasing."
"We were going to the bank to help a… colleague of mine." Sherlock grumbled.
"Ah. Another case then?"
He frowned, but nodded. Probably wondering how I could figure out it was a case. Not that hard, really. He obviously doesn't think highly of his colleague and helped him out anyway. Has to be a case and an interesting one at that.
"And why were you attempting to drag me along? I doubt I would've been able to help you in any way. Unless you really were flirting with me." I said with a smirk.
"I was not flirting, as I have stated already. I only wanted you to get an idea of what I do."
"In order to woo me. I know, I know."
He scowled while I continued to smirk, myself enjoying the fact that I was bothering him. I yawned then though, tired from the long day and John easily took the hint, heading toward the door and pulling Sherlock behind him.
"We'll go ahead and go now, Jess. And remember what I said. Relax."
"Yes, sir." I mock saluted as they headed out and stood up with grit teeth.
As much as I had been playing and joking around with the two of them, I was in some serious pain. I headed into the bathroom and grabbed the bag I snagged from my old flat, pulling out the bottle of Advil. Taking two dry, I finished putting away the rest of the medicine in the medicine cabinet and went back to the bedroom in order to grab some night wear.
Changing out of my clothes, I grabbed a black wife beater and put it on, along with a pair of grey sweats. Walking back out to the couch, I grabbed the radio on the way and turned it on so that it was playing some soft classical music; something I always did to help me get to sleep ever since—No, no. Don't think of that. What my parents made me go through is not something I need on my mind right now.
Yawning once more, I relaxed on the couch and allowed the music to lull me to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day than the past two have been.