a lovely date for a murder, don't you agree

[deductivedetective]

Neither of them called it a date. Sherlock may not have been the most socially up-to-speed person, but he knew what this was; what John was asking. He humored him and agreed, not pressing the matter. It wasn't unusual for them to to be together anyway, even before this. In fact, catching them without the other was even more odd.

It wasn't too fancy, anyway. The Chinese place down the street was good, and authentic (according to Sherlock's verification), and reasonably priced for two men sharing money. The atmosphere wasn't romantic, at least. Sherlock imagined the pressure on John would be lessened if just for that reason, even if he didn't understand the big deal.

"Eating in today for once, eh, Sherlock?" the host asked with a polite smile as they entered. "Two, then?"

"Yes, thank you," Sherlock said, looking at John. "Any plans after this, by the way?"

Comments

[deductivedetective]

Of course he'd be the type to not care about the gun trained right on him.

Sherlock's fingers tightened on the handle of the gun. He called for him to drop the machete, to step back, to stop what he was doing – but his story continued as he was quickly cornering John. He glanced between the two, sidestepping so that Sam was in his view constantly.

He thought they were in the clear once John had him held – but no, it seemed they both underestimated this man. Before he could back up John, Sam broke the hold, and that awful sound of metal slicing flesh sounded, and-

It barely took a millisecond after for the gunshot to echo in the frozen chamber. The bullet ripped straight through the butcher's shoulder – the same exact one that he had injured on John. It was almost so precisely similar, that one might think Sherlock was collected enough to calculate the exact way to achieve it.

While the shot had felled Sam to his knees, it wasn't enough. Sherlock brought the butt of the gun down on his face (with enough force to fracture his jaw), kicking him down. The gun's point dug into Sam's neck, pressing hard enough to leave an imprint. Sherlock's eyes were wide, and his fingers became iron in the bloodied apron he wore. He needlessly thudded Sam's head into the concrete floor with what almost sounded like a crack.

“I will tell you now, that you will be lucky if you leave this room alive,” Sherlock said, his voice madly steady at first, before gradually becoming a growl.

He looked over his shoulder at John while Sam was dizzied. Sherlock felt a violent fury flow through his limbs, and he found himself analyzing every little way he could make Sam suffer, repay the damage he dealt John tenfold - but instead he shoved him over, pulling handcuffs from his pocket (undoubtedly Lestrade's as well), capturing his hands in the metal links before rushing to John.

"I'm calling for help right now," Sherlock said, his sentence rushed as he fumbled for his phone and began to dial Lestrade. "Don't move!"

[deductivedoctor]

John settled onto his knees, looking at Sherlock with a wide-eyed expression. He had never seen Sherlock thrown into such a fury, never so shaken with panic. The last time John could remember seeing Sherlock's resolve so damaged was when he was drugged. The reaction, seeming almost out-of-character to John, was so naturally compassionate that he couldn't help but smile in spite of his condition.

"I'm OK," John reassured, his hand clutching just below the wound.

[deductivedetective]

"No, you're not," Sherlock said, sounding as panicked as he could while being completely flat in tone. "Lestrade. 28 Howling Lane. Bring an ambulance. John's been hurt."

He hung up without waiting for a response. Sherlock's eyes ran up and down the blade, his brow creasing. His hands had come to rest on John's knee, surprisingly light for the expression on his face. The rage hadn't subsided completely. It was taking a lot not to turn around and butcher the man responsible.

[deductivedoctor]

"Don't pull it out," John breathed, sitting back as Sherlock knelt in front of him. "The hospital will take care of all that."

John began to flex his fingers. The pain from his shoulder down to his forearm was searing. This was nothing like getting shot. He'd taken a bullet to the same shoulder during his military career. He recalled the bullet passing straight though. The immediate sensation was like getting hit very hard, and the pain didn't set in until about an hours. That had been far more bearable than what he was feeling now. His split nerves were screaming at him.

"I'm going to look at it," but John turned away from the imagery of his mutilated shoulder almost as soon as he set his glance on it. "Oh jesus, shit, yeah. No, I'm not going to look at it."

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock frowned at him.

"And you call yourself a doctor?"

[deductivedoctor]

"And I've dealt with a lot worse to be honest," John shot back. "But this is my arm."

[deductivedetective]

"I'm fairly certain, too, that at least half the blood on that thing isn't yours," he mentioned helpfully.

[deductivedoctor]

"Lovely," John laughed sardonically. "Luckily I'm up to date on my Tetanus, but I can only hope this doesn't lead to any sort of infection."

The sound of sirens gathered outside the building and John's glance escaped back towards the doorway. Sam just groaned, turning over on the floor. He had taken a strong blow to the head, leaving him mostly incapacitated in his handcuffs. There was as smear of blood on the ground where his bruised jaw and bullet wound had leaked out.

better stop him john

[deductivedetective]

He looked to the door, then to Sam. It lingered on the fallen butcher, his eyes narrowing. The police would be flooding into the shop in about five seconds...

[deductivedoctor]

John put his hand on Sherlock's wrist, hobbling to a stand. He winced slightly as the pain in his shoulder flared up. "Come on, we're done here."

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock halted, glancing back at John after a hesitant pause.

"Right."

-----

The surgery itself didn't take long. Some cleaning, stitches and bandages later and they were done, but John was finally allowed back home the next day. Given the nature of the crimes, they wanted to be sure he didn't get infected or, worse, poisoned.

They caught up with Mrs. Hudson, who naturally had a fit over the two, saying she would be up with tea soon and some extra pillows to make John comfy while he rested. Sherlock was rather silent, actually, letting John handle a lot of the talking. He kept an arm hovering behind his back up the stairs, in case it was too much. Now and then he could swear he saw a glint of metal from above John's shoulder - just his imagination. Of course it was.

The flat was quiet and untouched since they left it. Good, because it was always a hassle when Mrs. Hudson decided to move things.

"Are you all right, John? Do you need anything?"

[deductivedoctor]

"Yeah, I'm fine," John said, dropping down into his chair. He sat a little stiff in his shoulder brace. "I can't believe you managed to stay the night at the hospital without going insane. Hey, um... I didn't say anything weird, did I? When I was on the pain-killers?"

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Only something about cucumbers."

[deductivedoctor]

"Cucumbers...?" John echoed in question, but ultimately dismissed it with a shrug. He'd been more worried about accidentally blabbing something about his current relationship status to someone he knew.

[deductivedetective]

With the cucumbers deemed unimportant, Sherlock made his way to John's chair, sitting on the arm. But, concerning their 'relationship status' (Sherlock really saw no difference, still), there was something he was wanting to do since having to wait in the god awful hospital for John. It was a fluid motion that brought their mouths together, Sherlock carefully cradling John's head as not to stretch his shoulder too far, bending down to put even less strain.

[deductivedoctor]

The kiss was welcome, and John closed his eyes and fell easily into it. When midway into the kiss, however, they were interrupted by Mrs. Hudson, John immediately pulled away. So quickly, in fact, that he ended up pulling his shoulder. The prick of pain caused John to swear under his breath. He had apparently missed the sound of the door opening.

"Oh my, don't mind me," Mrs. Hudson said, sounding no more surprised than if she had walked in on a private chat between friends. She set down some tea and snacks on the center table and then turned back towards the door. "I'll leave you two alone. Be safe, now."

John was red as a tomato.

"I, It's not what it looks like," it was exactly what it looks like. "I'm not gay."

"It's alright dear, I won't tell anyone," Mrs. Hudson said. "But you really should consider coming out. I saw on a program that keeping all that inside can lead to all sorts of stress. And stress can lead to headaches and back-pain, I know that firsthand."

"I'm not gay," a tad more desperately.

But Mrs. Hudson had already left the flat.

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock was helpfully silent, and had helpfully left himself hovering over John during the exchange. He just watched Mrs. Hudson place the tray down, leaning over to take one of the cups, sipping quietly at the tea.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," he called out before she disappeared down the stairs. Then he frowned at John. "You should be more careful."

[deductivedoctor]

"I should be more careful?" John shot back. "You just outed us to Mrs. Hudson!"

[deductivedetective]

He looked confused.

"Your shoulder, John," Sherlock corrected.

[deductivedoctor]

John looked a bit exasperated, but nodded, leaning back into his chair. "It's fine."

[deductivedetective]

"Besides, she already knew," he added, handing John his cup of tea.

[deductivedoctor]

"What? Since when? You told her!?"

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You really think her two favorite boys could start snogging right under her nose, and her not notice? Women are keener when it comes to that sort of thing. Must be that emotional side. I think she knew before we did."

[deductivedoctor]

John just reddened again. "Does... does anyone else know? You haven't actually told anyone, have you?"

[deductivedetective]

"Why would I do that? And who would I tell, anyway?"