The Nobility of Bachelors Part 2

[hisdearblogger]

Who: John & Sherlock
When: The day after Lord St. Simon comes to Sherlock about recovering his missing bride. Things prove more complex - and sinister - than originally thought

Comments

[consulting_det]

The locked doors twice now were getting very old. The first time had been pointless, Sherlock would have respected John's wishes to be alone. The second time was oddly painful. Peter told him he'd pick the lock of someone he loved to get inside but Sherlock had already determined that he did not love John -- he hadn't loved anyone fully since he was eleven and partially since he was seventeen so loving anyone else, therefore, was impossible.

But despite John's hurtful, stinging ways, Sherlock was still fascinated by him enough to keep coming back.

Sherlock took the opportunity of John leaving the room to climb into bed the moment he left. Oh, he wasn't stupid, John was going out to play detective and that suited Sherlock fine. He had the Ripper case on his mind. He had Peter on his mind. He had lack of John on his mind.

At least he couldn't be locked out now.

[hisdearblogger]

Bernard Lanham was easy to meet with; John had called ahead and the reporter agreed to talk to him as long as John didn't mind coming to his desk. Which, when John saw it, felt it could hardly be called that. He wondered how on earth this man got anything done with the stacks of paper and drafts, random post-it notes, components of his computer splayed out all over the desk and stacks of books on the floor around it

[hisdearblogger]

John nods, brow furrowed as he mulled over this. The way St. Simon had been so quick to move back to his present wife instead of elaborating on the past two did seem a bit odd. But then maybe such events had been too painful for him to want to dwell on them

[consulting_det]

John was finally coming into his own, not just tracking down sources, but asking the important questions. Sherlock, likely, would have been pleased and somewhat proud of him.

Instead, the man was flat on his back in John's bed (sharing it for two weeks did not make it 'their bed' just yet), Sherlock indulged in two patches and traced back the details of John he could remember. There was so much there. John had no idea just how much Sherlock remembered every smile, every furrowed brow, even frustrated sigh, every time he fell asleep waiting for Sherlock to speak or come up with an idea.

He came up with ideas as he waited for John to return. The time with Peter yesterday had given him quite a few. There was a whole list of things to tell John by the time he heard Gladstone rush to greet the man when he came home.

Sherlock waited.

Cases could wait longer.