deductivedetective (
deductivedetective) wrote in
circle72012-02-14 11:58 pm
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a lovely date for a murder, don't you agree
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?"
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?"

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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.
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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."
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"And you call yourself a doctor?"
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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
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"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?"
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"Only something about cucumbers."
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"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.
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"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," he called out before she disappeared down the stairs. Then he frowned at John. "You should be more careful."
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"Your shoulder, John," Sherlock corrected.
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"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."
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they should be watching star trek heh
aw yeah spock vs. cumberbatch
heheh
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carry me home NANA NANA NA NANA NA