John's WTF? Moment
You asked for it so here it is...John's WTF? moment...or is that moments?
John stepped through the door of 221B Baker Street. When Sherlock ran off at the crime scene in that mad, impulsive way he did when pieces to the puzzle he was trying to work out clicked together John told Lestrade he'd give him a call when his flatmate filled him in. Then he hailed a cab and returned home. He wanted to catch Rose before Sherlock arrived to warn her that he was in one of his moods.
He was halfway down the basement steps when he noticed the state of her flat. Door busted in, clothes strewn about the room. He stepped inside, fearing the worst. He was about to call her name when a voice reached him. Sherlock? What the hell was he doing there? Then came Rose's voice. Both angry. Was his flatmate yelling at her?
He crossed the living room intent on reigning Sherlock in, even if he had to drag him out of her flat when he stopped. Shock. Utter and complete shock because there they were …no, but they couldn't be…he…it…Words failed him and all he could do was stand there, hoping that one of them would notice his presence.
When he realized that wasn't going to happen in the near future he coughed. Loudly. Rose pulled away first and she looked as surprised as he was. Was she surprised by John's presence or the kiss? It couldn't have been the kiss. Sherlock would never initiate that sort of thing…would he?
He glanced at his friend. Stunned? Confused? John couldn't tell, but Sherlock was giving Rose the same look he got when he was trying to work out a puzzle. As if there was something about her he didn't understand.
"So…" John said, not entirely sure what to say. "Have you phoned the police?"
"About?" Rose asked.
"The apparent break-in," he said, glancing around the room.
"Don't be an idiot, John. The police will be more of a nuisance than a help," Sherlock replied.
And just like that he was back to his old self. As if nothing Earth shattering happened, but that was Sherlock. John decided to tread carefully until he could find out what sort of state his friend's mind was in.
"You're being rude," Rose shot.
"He's asking stupid questions!"
"Tea?" Mrs. Hudson called from the living room.
"Coming," Rose called before turning a withering gaze on the detective. "Be nice."
Then she strode out of the room. John let her pass and then stepped inside. What the hell was going on between them? Sherlock walked over to her closet and began examining the blouse and red jacket hanging inside. The only two things still in their place. He drew up behind his friend. Watching him for a moment.
"So," he glanced down and then back to Sherlock…well, his back. "You kissed her then?"
"Stating the obvious again," Sherlock replied without turning around.
"And…how are we feeling about that?"
Sherlock ignored him, searching the pockets of the red jacket. He pulled out a tube of lipstick.
"You're going to have to talk about it eventually," John continued.
His friend removed the cap, gazed at the lipstick a moment, red, then replaced the cap and returned the tube to the pocket.
"Sherlock, you can't pretend that nothing happened."
"Of course, I can," Sherlock replied.
John was about to argue the point when Rose walked in the room.
"Mrs. Hudson's gone back to her flat, but there's tea in the kitchen."
"Yes," the detective replied.
"Yes?" she asked, quizzically.
"I'll take a cup."
"I didn't offer."
Sherlock glanced at her.
"You just did."
"No, I was informing you that there's tea in the kitchen not offering to get you a cup."
John stifled the laugh that wanted to escape and chose to shake his head instead. Sherlock had to get involved with a woman as headstrong as himself.
"I already knew there was tea in the kitchen. I heard Mrs. Hudson come in," Sherlock replied in his it's completely obvious why didn't you figure it out voice.
Rose's hands went directly to her hips in a move that told John their tea discussion was about to escalated into an argument.
"Girls!" he yelled.
Rose and Sherlock eyed him.
"Let's focus on the break-in shall we?" John continued.
"It was Moriarty," Rose said.
"Obviously," Sherlock replied.
Rose rolled her eyes.
"Obviously?" John asked, jumping in before his friend's mouth overloaded his arse…again.
"The only things that remained untouched were the jacket and blouse he purchased for her."
"He was looking for something," John said.
"Clearly," Sherlock replied in his that's the third stupid question you've asked since you entered the room voice.
"Did he find it?"
Sherlock eyed him.
"Well, he was obviously looking for something. Tore her flat apart to find it."
"No," Rose supplied.
"Nothing missing then?" John asked.
"There's…something missing." Her voice didn't waver, but he could tell that whatever it was it was important. "But I don't think that's what he was after."
"How can you be sure?" Sherlock asked.
The anger was gone, his clinical, detached voice replaced by something that John would've swore was concern if he didn't know his friend so well. With Sherlock he could never tell if he was acting or not.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the device…sonic. That's what she called it. Sonic screwdriver.
"I'm pretty sure this is what he was after," she replied.
"Then what'd he take?" John asked.
"My phone. The one I had when I…" she glanced at John and then back to Sherlock. "…arrived."
"Is there anything important on it? Anything he could use?" the detective asked.
"Nothing like that, but…" and again her voice changed. Her tough exterior wavering for just a moment. "…but there are things I can't replace."
"I'll get it back," Sherlock insisted.
John's mouth dropped open. He closed it a moment later, but not before realizing that this wasn't Sherlock acting. His friend never promised things he wasn't absolutely sure he could deliver on, but outside of tracking down Moriarty, breaking into wherever he was staying, locating Rose's phone and returning it…well, that was pretty much the only way. How the hell was he planning on doing that?
"No," Rose said, pulling herself together. The loss gone from her voice. "It's fine."
Sherlock snatched her arm, his eyes narrowing dangerously. John watched them carefully wondering what the hell had gotten into his friend.
"What are you planning?" Sherlock insisted.
"Nothing." But the detective wasn't buying what she was selling. She gave him a smile, but even John could tell she was hiding something. "I'm fine. Really." She put her hand on Sherlock's and he released his hold, but the intensity didn't leave his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind I've got a flat to clean up. Unless you want to stay and help."
"Yes," Sherlock replied.
"Yes?" she asked.
"We'll stay…and help."
Sherlock was offering to help her clean up? The world had gone mad!
"Well…" she said as if she was trying to think of something. "If we're all going to be here then maybe you two could run down and grab some takeout. I'd go, but…" she indicated the mess.
"John would be happy to go," Sherlock offered.
"I would?" John asked, not entirely sure he wanted to leave them alone.
"Yes," Sherlock said, shooting him a just agree, you know I'm right look.
"I would. Yes, of course I would," John agreed.
"You're not going with him?" Rose asked.
"And leave you free to enact whatever dangerous plan is running through your mind? I don't think so," Sherlock replied.
Plan? What plan?
"I told you I'm fine."
"Yes, I heard."
"You think I'm lying?"
"I think you're trying to occupy us so you can leave, possibly use your device to locate your phone, which will put you on Moriarty's doorstep."
Oh, that plan. Sherlock's insistence on staying made more sense, but still…after what he walked in on…but they were adults…well, physically.
"I-" Rose began.
"But I'm not going to let you," Sherlock cut in.
"And who the hell do you think you are coming in here and telling me what to do?" she snapped.
"This isn't a game!"
Rose glared daggers into Sherlock, but he returned her fury with his own withering stare.
"I never said it was! I know it's dangerous. I'm not stupid!"
"For someone who claims she's not stupid you're doing a brilliant impression of an idiot!"
Oh, for the love of…
"Girls!" John shouted.
They turned their scathing glares on him. Seriously? Is this what it was going to be like? He felt like he'd been given two hungry lions and only one cage.
"I'm leaving now, but if this," he gestured between them, "escalates while I'm gone could you hang a sock on the door or something? There are some things I don't want to see."
Sherlock's eyes widened and John couldn't hold back the laugh as he turned around and headed for the door. They were both too headstrong to listen to each other, but that wasn't the whole problem. They cared about each other. Sherlock, who spent his entire life refusing to allow himself to be controlled by emotions was trying to refuse his feelings. Something was holding Rose back as well, but whether it was being hurt by that Doctor, losing James, or something else he couldn't say, but he hoped they'd work it out soon otherwise they were going to drive him round the bend.
Thank you to all my brilliant readers!
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