For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[howdull]

Started to, but I had to tune her out, she wouldn't stop wailing and it was very distracting.

[It's just a place, just possessions, he can find somewhere else. Money isn't exactly an issue for him.]

Family and home, someone wishes to systematically remove your ties to the world. You should contact Sarah, any other relatives that may be hiding in the woodwork, and any unfortunate that you believe to be a friend.

[jumpthegun]

[Sherlock's thoughts are trending in the same direction as John's for where this is going, which is never good.]

Bill, Mike... Mike's the only one still living in London.

I didn't see any symbols on the package they delivered. Just the alphabet. What's Lestrade said about it?

[howdull]

Not Bill, B is for Bill, we've had B.

[He dismisses this absent friend, whoever that might be.]

Mike may be in some danger, D could very well be for Doctor, though that could also encompass Sharon and your other colleagues.

[It was Sharon, right? John's current girlfriend.]

Lestrade has taken the note and what remains of the bomb to be tested, I have ever faith that they will return with nothing useful whatsoever. Haven't you learned by now not to trust the police in matters that require even half a brain, John?

[jumpthegun]

Her name is Sarah. And N is for Nurse or L is for Life. Bill's the reason I came home from Afghanistan.

[And god, Sarah... he hadn't even thought about that. John's hand shifts down to his pocket, but of course he's in a hospital gown, not his clothes. There's an immediate spike of panic and paranoia that he can't quite control at having his things taken away. It's normal, but his tone is sharper for a moment.]

Where are my clothes? My phone? We need to get out of here. People are in danger if I'm here.

[howdull]

The doctors have them and wouldn't hand them over to me, some nonsense about a breach of policy.

[He doesn't argue that John makes it more dangerous here, because he quite patently does. Someone wants to hurt him, and that makes everyone around him a target.]

Of course, it's quite possible that B is as far as your admirer thought, that bomb could have been intended to kill you. Which would make the connection more familial based, Watson in general, rather than just you.

[jumpthegun]

[John's going to ring for the nurse with the button near his bed. He doubts he'll be able to talk them into giving his things back, but Sherlock might be able to. Or he might be able to deduce them into compliance... as cruel a tactic as that is. Needs must. It's not like John can go home to grab a change of clothes.]

I'm pretty sure we haven't got any family enemies anyone mentioned. And why would she draw that symbol on Harry? Why would she put her body like she did? Like a little girl.

[There seems to be some sort of message there, now John has had time to process it more... if only just.]

cw: mention of sexual assault and paedophilia

[howdull]

There are a number of reasons why a killer generally chooses to infantilise a victim.

[He raises a hand and ticks them off on long fingers.]

The slight that the killer wants revenge for happened during Harry's childhood, and the pose is a reminder or clue. The killer thinks of all her victims as children in comparison to herself. The pose is a manifestation of OCD tendencies, that would only be able to be tested with further victims. The killer is motivated by a sexual predilection towards children, or making women appear as children in order to satisfy paedophilic tendencies without the 'greater' crime of actually molesting a child.

[He stops all of a sudden, blinking rapidly before correcting himself.]

Though, ah, I'm certain your sister was not sexually molested. Her clothes were not rumpled in any distinctive fashion, nor did they bear the hallmarks of someone having redressed her.

[jumpthegun]

[It's a very good thing Sherlock corrects himself because John's eyes go wide and horrified as the man is talking. Something cold and painful curls tight around his stomach. He tells himself he would have seen the signs, as well. But really he wouldn't have, not while examining Harry.]

Harry didn't do anything as a little kid. Not when she was young enough to be sucking her thumb. She only got into trouble when we were older. Maybe ten, or something? She started getting in fights with other kids, but it wasn't serious. Just fights. [It got more serious when she'd come out as a teenager. That's when John had tried to step in.]

[howdull]

It doesn't necessarily have to be something she did, perhaps something one of your parents did around that time. The pose simply gives us a time-frame, not a definite indicator of her culpability in whatever occurred.

[A nurse comes in responding to the call button, a stocky young man in a blue tabard with the distinctive expression of a nurse that perfectly combines harried with sympathy.]

Awake then, Dr. Watson? Can I call you Joh--

Shush! Can't you see that we're busy? Get out.

[jumpthegun]

[John shoots a look at Sherlock before turning his attention to the nurse.]

Never mind him, mate. John's fine, thank you. I was hoping to get my clothes and other things. We're doing a bit of work trying to figure out what happened with that explosion. Might help to have those for clues.

[Absolute lies, but he tries to put on a harried smile to sell it.]

[howdull]

I'm sorry, but the police already came and took your clothes away to be tested for evidence. I can give you the number of the PC that picked them up? She left her card at the front desk.

[He bustles closer, completely ignoring how Sherlock glares. He's used to difficult visitors and his attention is for the patient, coming to check morphine levels and vitals.]

Have one of the doctors been in to see you yet, explain what's gone on?

[Sherlock lets out a 'pah' of irritation.]

No need, I've read the file. Predominantly first degree burns, though there are two small patches of second degree burns towards your shoulder blades. Two cracked ribs, and significant deep tissue bruising down your buttocks and upper legs. Nothing life threatening, now get out.

[jumpthegun]

[Damn it.

The cracked ribs are going to be the most inconvenient. He can deal with the burns.]

Yeah, no. Dr. Holmes, apparently, is fine on the explanation. Don't suppose you've got something other than a gown I could wear?

[Because he doesn't want to have to ask Sherlock to steal clothes for him. He'd ask to borrow some, but the other man's wardrobe has gone up in smoke, and it's all too big, anyway.]

[howdull]

[He looked doubtful.]

I'll see what I can find in lost property, but I can't promise anything. I'm afraid it might have to be a gown for now, but you'll be here at least three more days so maybe someone could bring you something before then?

[Sherlock finally uncurls himself from the chair, looming over the nurse to physically chivvy him.]

Yes, yes, run along and do that. Just take your overly priced shoes and uneven tan lines out of here.

[jumpthegun]

[Three days isn't happening. That's far too long.]

Right. Thanks!

[Once the nurse actually leaves, John makes a noise of frustration.]

I need you to steal some clothes for me, Sherlock. Or I need to borrow your coat. I can't stay here.

[Too many entry points, too unsecured, too many people to catch in the crossfire. It's going to be hell and a half off this morphine drip, but he'll just have to deal with it.]

[howdull]

[Borrow his coat? This is a genuine Belstaff, tailored to his specifications, and he doesn't want John to get blood and potentially pus all over it if his burns end up getting infected.

He sighs and unbuttons it, pulling it off to drape it over the foot of the bed.]

Hurry up, then.

[He glances towards the door.]

I'll create a distraction.

[jumpthegun]

[The bed alarms are going to go off when he gets up, so John takes care of the IVs first. The effects of the morphine should last him long enought to get out of here and go... somewhere. Sherlock probably has a place, some little bolt hole they can hide in. He takes a breath, and just gets on with it. His ribs and backside protest immediately, but it's dulled. Sherlock's coat is far too big on him, hanging closer to his ankles than his knees. But John buttons it up and strides with as much stability and purpose as he can, looking like he's not an escaped patient.

He does listen for the sounds of Sherlock's distraction, but his main goal is just getting to the entrance.]

[howdull]

[It's really not hard to hear Sherlock's distraction.

This is a floor with a lot of dangerously ill or burned victims, after all, and so a lot of life saving equipment. He simply pulled the plug on one as he passed by and every nurse and doctor came running at the shrill sound of someone coding. Not that they would, of course, Sherlock had made sure to choose a patient with excellent colour who could definitely be off their support for a few minutes.

He saunters to the lift and down to the lobby, leaning against the brickwork as he waits for John. He pats his pockets for a cigarette, but irritatingly they're in his coat pocket. Not that he would smoke it, he just wants to hold it, that's all.]

[jumpthegun]

[Well, that's one way to do it. John catches Sherlock as he steps out, barefoot onto the London pavement. He really hates continuing to ask Sherlock for assistance but he doesn't exactly have his credit card on him.]

Where d'we go from here? Police station? No. Never mind.

[He wants his clothes, but they'll just send him back to hospital.]

I, uh... I don't suppose you know anyone my size who could lend me some clothes? I'll pay you back... them back soon as I can get access to my accounts.

[howdull]

[Sherlock is less than sympathetic, he's run around London in much worse states than simply without shoes when he's been on a case.]

How? Your bank balance was fifty three pounds and seven pence overdrawn yesterday.

[He knows, he hacked into John's online banking.]

Call Lestrade, get him to bring by you your own clothes. Tell him to meet us at the British Museum. Oh-- and left coat pocket, cigarette, please.

[jumpthegun]

[There's a hot flush of shame at the mention of his bank balance. How is he even going to pay for Harry's funeral? John doesn't even argue about the cigarettes as he pulls them out and hands them to Sherlock, feeling incredibly small and helpless. They aren't things he likes feeling in the slightest... and they're probably what the Alphabet Woman wants. She's demoralizing him. Does she know about his money troubles? C is for Check.]

I need to borrow your phone.

[John starts feeling in the other pocket of the coat for it.]

[howdull]

[If C turned out to be for cheque then Sherlock would be immensely disappointed, what self respecting criminal goes after white collar crimes such as bank accounts? He's starting to realise that John truly is not okay, otherwise the request for a cigarette would have been met with at least a disapproving stare.

He hesitates, awkward, before patting John once on the shoulder.]

If you need to talk, John, I-- You know you can always-- what I'm trying to say is that Mrs. Hudson's number is on there too, I'm sure she'll listen.

[The phone is indeed in Sherlock's other pocket. It contains 6 numbers. John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Morgue, Mycroft, and Petra. There is no number for his parents.]

[jumpthegun]

[That comment earns Sherlock a flat look. Because really? When has he ever turned to Mrs. H for a shoulder to cry on? When has he ever turned to anyone?]

Who's Petra?

[Not a girlfriend, but someone important enough to be in Sherlock's phone book.]

[howdull]

[It's better than John trying to use him as a shoulder to cry on, that just sounds hideous all round.]

I believe you want L, Lestrade.

[jumpthegun]

Is she one of your homeless network?

[John does, at least, bring up Lestrade's number.]

Might be one of them saw something around Baker Street.

[howdull]

[He shrugs, he doubts the homeless network will have seen anything around there. It's got too high a foot traffic, too close to a major bus route, and too many police to keep moving unlicensed beggars or people sleeping rough. No, they tend not to be on his doorstep. If anything was seen, it will have been Mycroft on the CCTV.

He doesn't answer about Petra, lighting the cigarette instead and taking an almost sinfully delicious lungful.

Lestrade answers after only two rings sounding worried.]

Sherlock! How's John, he come round yet?