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]

[She glances up from her Blackberry after a moment.]

Right, yeah. Hi.

[And then she goes right back to her phone. Sherlock slips in next to John, and buckles himself in.]

British Museum, and give me the key for my old flat, I know Mycroft will have sent you with it.

[jumpthegun]

[Right. Well, then. John blinks a few times, nodding to himself. Not-Anthea hands over the key, not even looking at Sherlock, and moves to take the front seat next to the driver. John finds a set of clothes sitting on the floor at his feet. He breathes a sigh of relief at that, picking it up and setting it in his lap for the drive.]

Why are we going to the British Museum?

[He doesn't have anywhere else particular to be, but when Sherlock has accommodations elsewhere, it seems an odd choice.]

[howdull]

[He feels an almost smugness as he holds his old key, tarnished and scruffy, he knew that Mycroft hadn't re-let it to anyone else as had been threatened. Not a place he ever thought he'd go again.]

There's a new exhibit on squid that I want to see.

[His answer is mild enough, but the look he flickers to Anthea is a clear sign not to discuss it in front of her. Inside the bag of clothing is also a new mobile already preloaded with all his contacts.]

[jumpthegun]

[John's brows knit for a moment, and then he follows Sherlock's gaze to Anthea.]

Oh. Oh, right. Yeah. I hear that's good. Yeah.

[He pulls a bit of a face and falls silent, knowing Sherlock is judging him. The phone gets a look over and he pulls up Sarah's number, deciding a text is probably safer.]

Not sure if this is a new number. There's been some trouble today. Please be careful. I'll give you a call when I can. Might be a bit, though. Don't come to my flat, please.
-John

[Mike gets a brief text, as well.]

Can't do drinks tonight, mate. You probably want to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious-looking, too. Bit of trouble lately around Baker Street.
-John

[After that, John just shifts to turn and look out the window as they drive. Except that hurts. The doctor draws in a short, sharp breath. Okay. This is okay. This is fine. His voice is low as he leans a little toward Sherlock, instead.]

Have you got paracetamol at your flat?

[Or anything heavier. John would like something heavier.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock is grateful when John falls into texting because it lets him have the silence he needs to start thinking properly. It's irritating, but already this case seems out of his grasp with threads that don't connect to the overall tapestry at all. He knows the clues are there, he just needs to find them.

He doesn't respond to John, lost in his own thoughts until he feels the car come to a halt outside the British Museum. Nor does he bother to say thank you to Anthea or the driver, he just sweeps out of the car with the full trust that John will be following him. She glances up when the door opens and gives John a vacant sort of smile.]

Well-- bye, then.

[Get out of the car, John, is the subtext there.

Texts from both Sarah and Mike come back to John.]

John? I saw on the news what happened at Baker Street, I've been trying to call you, what the hell happened? I've been worried sick. Call me, please! Sarah xx

Can't wait to read about it all on the blog, mate. I'll be fine, catch you later.
-Mike.

[Sherlock hesitates at the top of the steps, waiting for John to catch up, slight impatient frown at his forehead.]

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. Bye.

[John gets out after a moment's hesitation and follows after Sherlock, wincing as he rises. Maybe they can stop in at a shop on the way to Sherlock's old flat for medicine. As they walk toward the museum, John sends a quick text back to Sarah. Mike is sufficiently covered.]

Explosion. Everyone's safe. I'll call you later. Middle of a case. Sorry. Love you.

[That's that done. He does catch up with Sherlock a moment later.]

Which exhibit should I meet you at? I need to change. Reckon you want your coat back.

[howdull]

Hm? Oh, we're not going that far in, just be ready to run.

[It probably wasn't the best idea for John to be running in his state, but they didn't have any other options. A deception might have served them better, but Sherlock was dishevelled after a night in the hospital with John, with dust from poking around the ruins of Baker Street first over his clothes; and John, well... the less said about John's state of dress, the better. Even if John redressed in the clothes Mycroft provided, he likely would not look right.]

You can change when we get back to the flat.

[jumpthegun]

Run? What?

[Running with cracked ribs is a bad idea. But John is immediately alert and tensing as he pockets his new phone and shifts the bag of clothes to his shoulder. That's not a great place for it with the burns, but it's going to have to do if they're running.]

Why are we running?

[howdull]

Because the British Museum has security and they don't usually take kindly to being robbed.

[He grins, sudden and slightly crooked, like a child about to play a prank.]

Come on, John, follow my lead.

[He turns to walk into the museum finally. The atrium is half full of tourists, there's a long desk at the other end of the hallway where people can purchase tour booklets or borrow audio headsets, and there are security men checking people's bags as they enter.

Sherlock walks purposefully through the atrium, relying on the fact that the security team will be more focused on John who looks like he might be a very inconspicuous flasher with only that long coat on, to where the donations box is. It's huge, about double the size of a microwave, and sits on a pedestal to accept donations in lieu of an actual cost to get in.

It takes all of two seconds for Sherlock to grab the box, heft it into his arms, and start running.]

[jumpthegun]

[John follows after Sherlock, feeling more than a little ridiculous walking barefoot across the marble floors of a museum. His eyes flicker toward the security people on instinct as he waits for Sherlock to do whatever it is he's going to do. Stealing the bloody donations box is not high on the list of John's guesses.

It's about half a second for John to realize what the other man is doing and then he's racing after Sherlock, trying not to let the long coat tangle his legs and trip him up. Why couldn't he have changed before this?! Running from the police in a very identifiable outfit is really not the best idea. Not to mention, he has no idea how this plays into sussing out their mystery woman.

C is for Charity? Is there something in the box? This had better be worth it because his chest and back are screaming now, and John's just struggling to keep up with his thieving friend.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock has the advantage here. Even with the added weight of the donation box in his arms, he's got longer legs and he's in peak physical health. He's not burned, fractured, and in severe amounts of pain.

Security all take off running after Sherlock, initially, but it's not long before they round John up in the chase too considering how quickly he followed the initial thief. Sirens start to sound in the distance, and Sherlock isn't even paying attention to if John is keeping up.

If he does keep up, Sherlock will lead him down about half a mile of streets to a little block of flats. If he doesn't, he'll be tackled by a police officer and cuffed.]

[jumpthegun]

[Unfortunately, while the heart and mind are willing, John's body isn't prepared to keep up with this. He has to bite down on an outright scream as he's tackled from behind and smacks into the pavement. The struggle is brief and rather pitiful for a decorated Army veteran. All the officer has to do is unwittingly step hard on his back to keep him down, and John's world goes dark at the edges.]

What's he got in the bag? Clothes? Some sort of flasher, are you?

[He doesn't even have the ability to speak for several seconds, just gasping through the pain. If any of the officers are particularly observant, they might take notice of the hospital identification band around John's wrist identifying him as a patient at Barts.]

[howdull]

Alright, son, you're under arrest.

[One handcuff is snapped on John's wrist and it's only when they pull the other one back that they see the hospital bracelet. It doesn't stop them snapping the other cuff in place, though.]

John Watson, correct? You a patient? [A psychiatric patient, says the subtext of the gentle and slightly condescending tone of voice.] You still can't wander around nearly naked and help rob a museum. Come on, lad, up you get and into the back of the car, we're going to the station and you're going to answer a few questions.

[jumpthegun]

Lestrade. Call Detective Inspector Lestrade. [John manages as he's hauled up. And 'lad'? Really? He's in his thirties.] There's been a misunderstanding.

[howdull]

I'll see about making a call when we're at the station.

[He's bundled into the back of the car like any common criminal, a bunch of tourists and even locals filming the arrest on their smartphones because it's pretty interesting.]

Can you check his record, Pat?

[The one who arrested John slips into the driver's seat and says that to the other police officer, a tall woman with dark hair, who does as she's asked on a small handheld device.]

ASBO, only issued two months ago. [She sighs.] Do you want me to contact DI Lestrade?

No, not yet. This is our collar, we can talk to him first.

[jumpthegun]

[John grimaces as he's just sort of shoved in the car. It's taking a great deal of willpower not to devolve into wheezing and grunts of pain.]

That-that was a mistake. I wasn't... I was just in the wrong place.

[howdull]

And I suppose you were just in the wrong place again today, hm?

[This is an excuse they've heard before time and time again.]

[jumpthegun]

Yes?

[Even John knows that sounds terrible.]

Look, I just, um... I was trying to catch the thief.

[Clearly.]

[howdull]

Is that so? And do you maybe want to explain why you were there in only a long coat and nothing else? Or maybe why you entered the building at the same time?

[Sherlock might be fond of calling the police stupid, but they're not complete idiots.]

[jumpthegun]

... I didn't know he was gonna steal the box, all right?

[howdull]

So you're saying that you do know the thief?

[Changing stories is never a good thing.]

Why don't you wait until we can take an official statement, Mr. Watson, hm?

[jumpthegun]

[Okay. He needs to get out of this.]

It's Dr. Watson, actually. Please, if I could just use my phone, I can call D.I. Lestrade and he can sort this out.

[Maybe that will carry some weight?]

[howdull]

You can make a phone call when we get to the station.

[That's the protocol. Neither of the officers will budge, getting John processed through fingerprinting and initial booking before he's allowed to use the main telephone to call anyone he wants. He is informed that he has ten minutes before his interview will start.

Lestrade, luckily for John, picks up on the third ring.]

Detective Inspector Lestrade speaking.

[jumpthegun]

Lestrade! Hi, sorry. It's John again. I'm at the station. I sort of got picked up. Sherlock had to take something from the British Museum for a case and... it looked a bit like I was helping him. Could you sort of... get me out of here? I need to get back to him.

[He lowers his voice.]

I think people might be in danger if I'm kept around them too long, y'know?

[howdull]

[There's a long pause, like a man taking a deep breath and then counting to ten so that he didn't break anything.]

Sherlock took something from the British Museum?

[Please tell him this isn't true.]

What was it?