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]

Doubtful. They'd need solid evidence of severe malpractice or criminal behaviour to strip you of your license, and there's no evidence of either.

[John isn't a perfect doctor, but he's a damn good one, and he clearly was a damn good soldier too. There's nothing there to go after.]

If they're questioning people you served with, the next logical step would be to question you. That will at least give us some idea of what they're playing with.

[jumpthegun]

I don't really have an address to get a summons at, Sherlock. [He frowns.] Unless... Mrs. Hudson? [It's called into the kitchen as John heads that way.] Have you been picking up the post somewhere? Or having it forwarded to Mrs. Turner's? I need to see if there's anything for me.

[howdull]

I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper.

[But she does have some letters in her hand as she bustles back upstairs with two cups of tea for them both.]

You'd have got them before if you thought to call, you know?

[jumpthegun]

[They're never going to hear the end of that. John's fairly sure.]

Yes, sorry. I, uh... can you give me the number for the phone here? I'll be sure to keep you updated from now on.

[Maybe. When there's neutral or good news.

He'll sit down in the one of the chairs, nearby after taking the tea and letters. However, he passes by the chair Sholto had been sitting in, even though it's one of the closest. That's been mentally assigned as 'not my chair' without John even really noticing it.]

Have you been all right here?

[His voice is distracted as he goes through the mail checking for anything from the military and ignoring pretty much everything else... including the bills and whatever sympathy cards there might be.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock very deliberately stalks over to that chair and folds himself up in it, long legs up and knees against his chest. He's not attributing any sacred chair to Major Sholto.

He's too busy sulking to pay much attention to Mrs. Hudson's complaints, though he does take the tea and have a sip or two.]

Oh yes, Mrs. Turner just decorated the back bedroom, it's lovely. You'll have to let me show you, let me just get you that number first.

[There are four letters. One for Sherlock, three for John. Of the three for John, one is a summons to the local army base, appointment time for later this same day, and the other two are bills.]

[jumpthegun]

[John sets the bills on the table nearby, unopened, and tosses Sherlock his letter.]

Summons. We'll be heading to the same base as the Major. [He frowns at it.] Two o'clock. [It's barely past 8 AM.] We'll need to hire a car or... borrow Molly's. That's a hike for a cab. Have you still got access to your bank account, or d'you think Mycroft might shut it off?

[He's still antsy about having Sherlock pay for everything, but it's unavoidable right at the moment. John's not going to let himself fall into another panic attack. He tells himself he'll pay Sherlock back. He'll pay Clara back. He'll pay Molly back. Everyone will be paid back just as soon as Caroline Matthews and her accomplice are behind bars.]

[howdull]

[Mrs. Hudson tuts about being ignored, but she's used to it. She knows what these boys are like, and truthfully she wouldn't change them. Sherlock has been much better since that nice doctor came into his life, it's always good when people find someone to spend their time with. Mrs. Turner's ones were happier once they found each other too.

Sherlock scans the letter, it looks official enough. The printer was running low on black in, small white lines through the letters, but nothing important.]

Hire a car, I doubt Mycroft will have gone quite that far.

[Of course, he's underestimated his brother before.]

He wouldn't want to risk Mummy finding out.

[jumpthegun]

She's a bit of a handful, isn't she? Thanks, Mrs. H. [It's added absently.] Happy to take a look at the decorations. Unless Sherlock has some ideas for leads to run down, we'll be waiting a bit. [He hates waiting. It feels like more people are ticking closer to death when he's not actively doing something to prevent it.]

Can I have a look on Mrs. Turner's computer for a place to hire a car from?

[howdull]

[Sherlock shakes his head and folds further in on himself, elbows coming up to rest on his knees so that he can steeple his fingers under his nose.]

No, I need time to think, I haven't had time to think. Both of you go away and leave me alone, and try not to think too loudly.

[Mrs. Hudson rolls her eyes and gestures for John to follow her.]

I'll set it up for you. So-- while we do that, why don't you tell me how you both really are?

[jumpthegun]

[John rolls his eyes, as well, dragging himself up after setting the summons down with the bills.] I'll... need your card. [He holds out his hand for Sherlock's bank card and tries not to feel too terrible about himself when it's placed there. He follows after Mrs. Hudson quickly.]

Sherlock was kidnapped and poisoned with ricin by the woman who blew up the flat. [Let's start with that explanation.] Her name's Caroline Matthews, by the way. Wife of one of the men I served with in Afghanistan.

[howdull]

[There's no judgement from Mrs. Hudson as she watches Sherlock hand over his bank card without even a moment of hesitation, nor any instructions on how much to spend, but she does file it away for bringing up in the future.]

If you know her name, then I hope the police have her in custody by now.

[She sounds a little forbidding. This woman has burned John and poisoned Sherlock, two good reasons for them to never meet.

The flat is laid out in much the same way as next door, but the bedroom that should be Sherlock's is all pastel colours and frilly pink bedclothes. The guest room. A computer sits in the corner of the neat room on a well-dusted desk.]

[jumpthegun]

DI Lestrade's the one who worked out what her proper name was, but I think she's having help eluding them from, uh... Well, this sounds a bit mad, but it's probably from Molly's boyfriend. Have you met Molly? She's the pathologist Sherlock works with at Barts.

[John sits down in the desk chair and powers on the computer.]

We think Jim, that's the boyfriend, we think he's helping out Caroline with some of the more complicated parts of her plan. Probably at least the IT stuff, like tapping my old phone and mucking with CCTV footage out in front of Baker Street.

[howdull]

No, I don't think I have met her. But you can't blame a girl for what her man gets up to, sometimes there's just no accounting for it.

[Like when someone's husband is a drug boss and murderer, that sort of thing. At least booking a car should be relatively straight forward.]

Nor should she blame you for anything that her husband got up to overseas, it's a crying shame.

[jumpthegun]

We're not blaming Molly. At all.

I was the one who didn't get to Danny fast enough in the field. [He goes through the steps to just hire the car online, rather than having to call someone.] He was alive when I shipped him out from the field hospital, but there were complications. I can... see why she'd be angry with me, but this is bloody personal for someone I've never actually met.

[howdull]

[Mrs. Hudson puts a hand very gently on John's shoulder.]

It's ridiculous, is what it is. Don't let her get inside your head and make you doubt that, she has no right to be angry with you. When you were overseas, did you ever deliberately wait to get to someone? You did your best.

[He's a good doctor and a good man, and he's been very good for Sherlock, she won't have him doubting himself.]

[jumpthegun]

[John offers her a small smile. Well, it's nice to get some reassurances from some quarter.]

I should call Lestrade, let him know you're here. Does he know? Once Sherlock and I head out, you should probably have someone keeping an eye on the block. I know you think you're all right, but you're liable to be in danger, Mrs. H. I don't write about you much in the blog, but you've replied to some of my posts. Caroline might see you as a target.

[howdull]

He knows that I'm here, dear, he came back to help after the flats went up. Just check in every so often, that's all I ask.

[She makes a chivvying motion.]

Now come on, better you get on the way and get this cleared up as soon as possible.

[jumpthegun]

[It couldn't hurt to head out early. John's anxious to find out what exactly he's being charged with. But first...]

Would it be okay to sort of rinse down in Mrs. Turner's bathroom? I haven't had a shower since... [The funeral. And at least he's in his suit from that for this. He's looking a bit rumpled, though, after spending the night on the hospital sofa. Hopefully, Lestrade will have his other clothes when they meet up again. John hadn't exactly stopped to pick them up on his way out.] It's just been a little while.

[howdull]

I don't see why not. Down the hall, second on your right, the towels are in the big cupboard. I'll fix you up something to eat while you wash off, you look half starved too.

[On his way quickly, but not before taking care of the basic needs!]

[jumpthegun]

[Getting Sherlock to eat will be the real challenge, but John suspects the other man needs it more than him.]

Right. Thanks!

[Fifteen minutes later, John is stepping out of the shower feeling almost human again. The burns on his shoulders ache, but his chest feels a little better. A quick check of the medicine cabinet gives him some paracetamol to take before he works his way back into his clothes. He heads toward the kitchen after finger combing his hair as best he can.]

What've we got cooking, then?

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still in the same position in the chair he took ownership of, eyes closed and fingers steepled beneath his nose. There's a plate of omelette, chips, and baked beans next to him, but he hasn't noticed.

Mrs. Hudson smiles as he comes in the kitchen and gestures to a plate with the same components on it.]

Cheese and one of those fancy meats in the omelette. There's sauce on the side table, try and get Sherlock to eat a little before you go.

[jumpthegun]

Thanks, Mrs. H. This is great! [Far too much, but still very nice. John hadn't realized there was quite the gnawing pit in his stomach until he takes the first bite of omelette, though. A part of him is ashamed that he has any kind of appetite after everything that's happened. The practical side of him says that he needs to eat to keep up his energy and catch the Alphabet Woman.

When he's managed to stop scarfing and eat at a reasonable pace, he picks up his plate and heads into the living room. He sits where he was before and mostly picks at his chips.]

Eat the chips, at least. You like chips.

[He's fairly certain Sherlock likes chips.]

[howdull]

[By 'fancy meat', Mrs. Hudson had meant chorizo, a whole pack of it from where it had been on sale at M&S. Sherlock knows this because he can smell it, and he saw the faintest trace of a yellow label torn and stuck to the inside of Mrs. Hudson's fingernails. Pointless information, but observed all the same.

He doesn't open his eyes when John addresses him, though he does respond after a moment or two.]

I'm thinking, John, you know I can't eat when I'm thinking.

[jumpthegun]

Will this thinking be continuing past the next thirty minutes? We need to go and pick up the car then, and I've been instructed to get you to eat.

[It seems only fair to follow through with Mrs. Hudson putting in the effort... and dealing with the two of them and Major Sholto. John's mind turns back to his commander, wishing there were some way he could keep an eye on the other man.]

[howdull]

Eat it yourself, I'm busy.

[It's said with an air of finality, and he will ignore John from here on out, eyes closed and refusing to reply to him until John does anything too ridiculous. Otherwise he won't rouse until just after the half hour mark, suddenly surging upwards.]

Come on then, no time to waste, don't dawdle.