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

[gallowshumour]

No, he's not here. The last time I saw him was about two hours ago, I caught up to him where he was tailing that Moriarty bloke and he said he had something to do. He was fine then, though.

[Then again, two hours is a long time in Sherlock-time.]

If his phone's out of service, not much you can do but head home? I'll keep an eye out in case he shows up.

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. Thanks. Sorry to bother you. Talk later. Good luck.

[The words are rote, clipped. John hangs up before Lestrade can really answer that. He's suddenly very not hungry.]

Lestrade hasn't heard from him in two hours. He was still trailing Jim when they met up.

[There's no one else to call except Mycroft, and that bridge has been doused in petrol, burned, and exploded for good measure. Molly's driving suddenly seems far too slow, far too cautious. And then another thought occurs to him.

John pulls out the card Jim had given him and looks to see if there's a number for a mobile, or if it's just the office number.]

[gallowshumour]

[There is both an office number and a mobile number listed on the official card that he had been given.

Molly worries her lower lip, and perhaps presses down on the accelerator a little more than is strictly legal on this particular road.]

Do you think something's happened to him?

[Please no.]

[jumpthegun]

[John tries to the mobile number first, glancing at Molly.]

Might've let his battery run out with how long he was stuck at the base is all.

[He doesn't think that at all.]

[gallowshumour]

[Molly doesn't look convinced, though it doesn't escape her notice that John is trying to be kind to her. She doesn't respond, though, as he's on the phone again.]

James Davidson, Monkton and Milnes.

[jumpthegun]

[Well, he has him on the phone. Now what? It's probably going to be recorded. He doesn't want to give Jim more ammunition to use against him. The doctor schools his tone to something coldly polite.]

Mr. Davidson, this is Dr. Watson. [He grits his teeth.] I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the base. It was unprofessional. [He hadn't been wrong about the man's identity, and he won't say he was.]

I don't have the money for a proper lawyer, so I'll be needing assistance from Legal Aid. If you're designated as my counsel, then I'd like to go over the evidence that's been provided with you. Maybe tomorrow.

[gallowshumour]

[It's a good job that John can't see down the phone, because Jim is grinning like a cat presented with a full saucer of cream. He wonders just how much it must have hurt to grovel like that.]

I'm willing to still be your legal counsel, Dr. Watson, as long as there are no more spurious accusations of being someone else. I have an appointment slot tomorrow at eleven thirty, would you like to come to the offices, or should I attend your current place of residence?

[jumpthegun]

[Molly, meanwhile, will see John visibly begin to bristle. If he were a dog, his hackles would be up and he'd probably be growling. As it is, he just clenches his jaw for a moment and relaxes to reply in the same neutral tone.]

I think we've both gotten what we wanted out of that, Mr. Davidson. I'll come to your office at 11:30. I have an appointment at 12:30, so I'm afraid it'll need to be a fairly efficient meeting. I may be bringing a friend, if that's all right with you.

[gallowshumour]

You can bring whoever you want, Dr. Watson. I look forward to our meeting.

[The smug smile is practically oozing out of his voice as he hangs up.

Molly glances sideways, obvious worry written all over her face.]

John?

[jumpthegun]

[The smug bastard. The slimy snake. John's about two seconds off from slamming his fist into Molly's dashboard, seething in rage at having to lay himself low like that. Her voice draws him back from that brink and he consciously relaxes his body, breathing out a shaky breath.]

I've set up a meeting with Jim tomorrow at 11:30. If--when we find Sherlock, I'm going to bring him to the meeting. You, as well, if you're available. I'd like to see that- [He cuts off and takes another breath.] I'd like to see how he handles trying to play off being someone else to his own girlfriend. I'd also like to see if we can get Jim's schedule from Barts, see if they overlap or not. If they do, supposedly, I want to have someone get some photos of him at work while we're in our meeting. See if Jim from IT can pull off being in two places at once.

[gallowshumour]

[Molly isn't entirely sure that she wants to confront Jim about this and be told to her face that she was only being used, but she does want to help, so she ends up just meekly nodding. Damn it.]

I'm available, you know-- I'm head of the department, nobody's going to question it if I take a few personal days. I've kind of got a lot of holiday time saved up.

[Mostly because she's always in the morgue and never takes it, she has nobody to really go anywhere with. She's pretty lonely, maybe that's why Jim saw her as easy prey. No, best not to go down that path.]

First thing is we have to get back to London, find Sherlock, and then you need to sleep. Tomorrow will be tough enough without you running yourself into the ground.

[jumpthegun]

I slept at the base. It's why I wasn't in contact with Sherlock. Should've been keeping closer tabs.

[He'd been grateful for the morphine and bed at the time, but now he's sorely regretting that decision. Terrible things happen when he goes to sleep. Is it any wonder he'd rather just... not right now?]

Sorry. Like I said, it's probably fine. Lestrade didn't sound worried, and Mrs. Hudson's keeping an eye out for him. I'm sure he's just back at the flat, asking thin air to plug his phone in for him.

[It's said with a dark edge, and unless Molly forces conversation, John will fall quiet, staring out the window and watching the miles drift away. The Burger King will wilt in its bag unless she goes after it for herself, as well.]

[gallowshumour]

[She waits ten impatient minutes for him to say or do something, then ten more wondering if she has the right to say anything to him about it when they're not really that close, and then finally another ten while she psychs herself up to approach this in the right way.]

How old is Sherlock?

[She asks like she's innocently curious.]

[jumpthegun]

[The question is enough of a non-sequitur that it draws John momentarily from his black mood to one of confusion.]

Late 20s, I think. Why?

[John supposes he should have actually taken note of Sherlock's birthday on his hospital cuff. There had been more pressing issues.]

[gallowshumour]

Mm, that's what I thought, too.

[She shoots him a sidelong look.]

How many late 20 year olds do you know that need a babysitter?

[jumpthegun]

[He clicks his tongue.]

One, at least. He was kidnapped and nearly murdered, Molly.

[gallowshumour]

Which would have happened even if you were watching like a hawk, John, he's Sherlock. He finds ways to do things even when everyone says he shouldn't, if he thinks he should, and you can't put that on your shoulders. If something has-- if he's not okay now, that is not because you took a nap, and you know it.

[Okay, she meant to lead round to that more gently, but there we go.]

[jumpthegun]

[Really, though. When did Molly Hooper become a bloody mind-reader? John supposes he's a bit obvious in this instance, though.]

I know. I just... could've done more. Probably would've been with him, too, if I hadn't gone off on Jim and he walked out before me.

[gallowshumour]

Hindsight is always 20/20, but you're not his keeper.

[If he weren't so hurt then she might be tempted to give him a clip round the ear for being so stupid.]

Now close your eyes and sleep, there's still at least three hours to London and you need it.

[jumpthegun]

[It is, perhaps, just a little wrong that he finds Molly ordering him about like that to be attractive. Only a bit. In this context. There's nothing he can do right now and being told to be sensible, relax, and sleep is what any good friend would do. John decides not to dwell on it overly much.

He sets his phone in the cupholder between his and Molly's seats.]

Wake me up if that goes off for anything, please.

[John thinks he's a little wired to be actually sleeping, and really, this is just going to ruin him for sleeping through the night, but it's not long before he's falling into a light doze once more, leaning against the door.]

[gallowshumour]

[Molly heaves an almost silent sigh of relief when she's obeyed without any further argument, and even starts to feel quite pleased with herself as she drives on. She didn't handle that too badly. Awesome!

The traffic is a bit better heading back to the city, and it's just before midnight when they pull up outside Sherlock's flat in Shepherd's Bush. She reaches out and gently taps him on his good shoulder.]

John-- John, we're here.

[jumpthegun]

[John starts awake, hand snapping up to grab her forearm. He comes out of the haze a moment later and releases her, regretting the sharp motion.]

Sorry. What? Right.

[He blinks around and then reaches for his phone before getting out. John checks for messages as they're walking toward the flat, desperately hoping that the place will contain Sherlock and that he'll be in good health.]

[howdull]

[It doesn't look good, there are no messages on the phone and the flat looks uninhabited when they approach. The front door is open slightly and all of the lights are off.

But Sherlock is, in fact, there.

He's laid out on the floor with his eyes closed and his hands laced on his chest, deep in thought, without any seeming knowledge or care to the panic he's caused.]

[jumpthegun]

[The torch on John's keyring comes into use as they enter the dark flat. When the little beam of light falls on a leg, the doctor's heart stops. Panning up, though.]

You bastard...

[The words are muttered, and he moves to find the light switch, hoping that might work. If not, it's going to be a very dark get-together.]

[howdull]

[The light switch absolutely works, Sherlock just came in when it was still vaguely light and couldn't be bothered to get up and turn the light on when full night fell.

He opens one eye and then closes it again.]

Finally, where have you been all this time? A taxi should have got you back hours ago.