Sherlock: Johns Stripped Shirt Part 2

Sherlock: John's Stripped Shirt.

Chapter Two: "Why are you telling me this Mycroft?"


Sherlock made sure to blend in while watching John and Stamford, sitting far enough away so you couldn't have a clear shot at his features but close enough he could hear John's soft spoken words. They talked about nothing important, not to Sherlock anyway the most interesting bit was when Stamford tried to get John's to go on a blind date and John declined respectfully. Bloody well not accept, Sherlock snarled in his brain knowing he was being unfair but just couldn't bother to care.

Sherlock kept the paper up so he could stare at John's without looking like a stalker. It was strange to not see John's face when he looked up from his new microscope or hear John's voice talk to Sherlock even though he wouldn't answer John back. There was no one to fuss about his weight or make him tea or coffee without having to be asked. There were no moments where Sherlock would look up and see John reading the paper or watching telly, there was just Sherlock his task and an empty cold room he needed to change every few weeks. Nothing felt like home, nothing could be home; only 221 B Baker Street was home.

221 B Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson and John Watson, even Lestrade running up the steps for a case would have been fine. 221 B Baker Street where the wall still had bullet holes and a smiley face, where he could leave his things about without worry, where John hid his cigarettes and Mrs. Hudson clean up the flat while reporting that "I am still not your house keeper," Where a skull sat on the mantle piece and there was a science lab running out the kitchen and a severed head in the freezer.

Sherlock looked over John's face, he missed that face more then he would have thought. Honestly Sherlock should have been alright with the change, he had lived alone before and he could certainly do it again then he realizes that he never lived with a John Watson before.

Sometimes Sherlock couldn't understand how John put up with him, and then again if he didn't John wouldn't have been different. John just had spark in him that blazed into flame after their second night of meeting; Sherlock saw that spark when John offered him his phone, his kindness was clue.

Then after they started to live together for a while Sherlock started to notice how much John didn't treat Sherlock like everyone else treated Sherlock. No matter how fussy or cold Sherlock acted John would always work through it or come home after taking a breath for a few hours. John treated Sehrlock as if he was a person, not to say this didn't piss Sherlock off sometimes because it did but soon it started to grow on him. Sherlock had found he had grown to like it very much not that he would ever show it, he could never tell anyone not even John.

After that day though Sherlock wished he had told John, then wonders if that would have made it worse somehow after he was gone.

Lunch doesn't take long to end, they have gone past pleasantry and John keeps looking off into space as if he were getting lost in his brain. What are you thinking about? Sherlock asked John mentally, and of course Sherlock's reply in John's voice would be "You, Sherlock,"

Stamford id a good friend to John, he tried so hard to help him move on and treat John as normal as he could without being too obvious and Sherlock knew John respected that. John might even feel a little disappointed in him-self for not being more normal and productive, so people wouldn't worry. Look at you John, even now while you suffer you still think about everyone else.

Sherlock watches John leave and say goodbye to Stamford outside eth the café before leaving his own table to walk outside with the paper tucked under his arm. John is a few feet away from him walking calmly, his hands at his sides, his brain thinking, Sherlock could hear him thinking from twenty feet away.

Sherlock wondered then if he would ever be able to calm John's thinking again.


*


"It's almost over," Sherlock says aloud sitting with Mycroft in a dim lit room off the radar, "This is the last lead," Sherlock sighs pressing his hands together and resting hi slips against them.

"What will you do then?" Mycroft asks and Sherlock doesn't look to him, "When your name is cleared and you come back alive to the world, go to John and Mrs. Hudson, go back to 221 B Baker Street, and start solving little triple homicides, is that what you want Sherlock?" Mycroft asks making his umbrella swing and back and forth as he crossed his legs.

"What else is there for me?" Sherlock asks bitterly, "Anything, you are dead you can go anywhere once your name is cleared, I have the resources." Mycroft says and Sherlock feels a bit sick from the suggestion.

"You can start fresh somewhere else," Mycroft goes on and Sherlock wonders if he just liked to hear the sound of his own voice sometimes.

"Why are you telling me this Mycroft?" Sherlock turns to his brother who is frowning.

"I just want to let you know you have options, going back and trying to resume the life you left three years ago might be a bit tricky for you." Mycroft says making eye contact.

He was right of course; Mrs. Hudson and 221 B Baker Street will always be there to go back to, Mycroft made sure of that as one of Sherlock's wishes the tricky part came with John and Lestrade.

"Though you can choose which ever, I am just here to relay information" The room goes silent and Sherlock frown.

Could he just not go back? Not let no one know he was alive, let 221 B Baker Street become occupied by regular people. It could be for the best, let everyone move on like they have.

But what about John?


*


Sherlock stared into his laptop screen watching John since he hacked into Mycroft security camera feed. Though this wasn't a street light camera, this was a planted video camera in John flat. Mycroft had it set in a few days after John's moved from 221 B Baker Street and right now John looked frantic as he tore up his flat looking for something.

Sherlock's mobile sitting silently next to the laptop on the desk.

Though all his attention was seemingly focused on John, Sherlock kept still waiting for his phone. Any minute now he would have the last lead tracked down, everything set in motion week ago and it all came down to this last text or call.

Sherlock's attention is captured by John bending over the couch, his perfectly sculpted arse pointed up in the air and Sherlock cursed John for wearing jeans. Sherlock remembered seeing that are up close in all kinds of coverings, John just walking round eth flat and tidying up; John covered in thick jean or thin cotton or sometimes partially bare when John just came out the shower and only wore a robe. Those Sherlock had to admit were the best.

Sherlock felt him-self get half hard in his own pants and scowled at his body for betraying him yet again.

"John Watson," Sherlock sighed the name aloud.

Sherlock's mobile sitting silently staring back at him the only barrier between him and life no not life between him and John and Baker Street.