The Dying Detective - Molly Hooper, John Hamish Watson, SH-221B

John smirked slightly at Sherlock, fully aware that, despite his poor display of modesty, he enjoyed the praising superlatives John always showered on him.

After saying goodbye to Lestrade he trotted off down the road after the striding detective, doing up his jacket a little further against the wind.

He was both surprised and pleased when Sherlock invited him for dinner, and he wondered whether the his friend would actually do any eating himself, or just watch John eat like he normally did.

"Dinner sounds great, I'm bloody starving," he admitted, then joked, "you'll have to stand in for my date seeing as I had to cancel."

Sherlock always enjoyed going out to cases but it was even better when John had turned out to be enthusiastic about going too. He had thought it a very good sign that his new flatmate was interested. Enthusiastic enough to cancel a dinner date still too. He slowed down his pace to let John, who was busy wrapping himself up against the cold, catch up.

The detective ran through the options of the two locations tonight's victim had lived in, the cold would have slowed down the rate of decomposition of the body, especially since the man had been in the boot. He had suggested dinner, however, and he preferred not to make guesses. John's suggestion sounded like a good distraction.

“Well, if you define a date as being where two people who like each other go out and enjoy doing something together then you've just /been/ on a date with me. Stand in for your dinner date? Hmm, that'd be interesting. That would mean you would choose the restaurant,...surprise me.” Sherlock smiled broadly. This would be interesting he thought.

Entering the main road Sherlock hailed a cab with a grin in place just before a fitful, squally shower started.

John couldn't help grinning at his friend's response.

"Sherlock. I'd hardly call looking at murder victims a date," he protested. "Besides, I didn't mean an actual date date. I know you're not interested in that kind of thing."

John found the whole concept of the conversation rather amusing. Even if Sherlock was interested in him in any other way, John definitely wasn't gay. He told himself that fairly regularly. One only had to look at the amount of women he dated to realise he was utterly straight.

"Well...I can take you to the same place I was going to take her if you like?" He suggested as they climbed into the back of the cab. "It's nothing special or particularly exciting. Just a nice little Italian down in Soho."

“I know you didn't mean an actual date.” Sherlock confirmed glancing at John for his reaction.

“Actually, I could be interested in that kind of thing but I don't need to spend much time with someone to know if they are interesting, remember?” the detective admitted smiling lopsidedly.

Sherlock leaned over to tell the driver where to take them “Angelo's, Northumberland Street” and looked to John with a grin. “Right?”

“I agree, of course, going on a case isn't a date. Admit it, it is interesting though.” The taller man folded his body into the cab.

Sherlock started to become enthusiastic. “Don't you always feel excited to go to a new case, never knowing what you'll find. Facing a challenge. The intellectual stimulation of working out what happened, why, who?...Doesn't it make you feel good to have been of practical help too?”

The detective became serious. “The people like Sally are dishonest, pretending not to enjoy the job, it is ok to do it though as long as everyone knows she's only doing it because she's paid to, as compensation.” he shrugged. He couldn't work out what was so wrong about being honest.

"Angelo's," John laughed, giving a small nod. "Yep. That'll do..." He remembered the first time they'd been there together with fondness.

"I love going on cases," he admitted. "And you're right. It's exciting, challenging, and yes, it gives me satisfaction knowing I can help you in whatever way I can."

He glanced out the window as the taxi wove in and out of the London traffic. "I guess you're right. They must enjoy the job on some level, otherwise they wouldn't do it."

Then he turned to Sherlock with a smile and said, "Go on then. You said you don't have to spend much time with people to know whether they're interesting or not. And I can believe that. You can look at people and deduce them in a split second. So...what do you find so interesting about me?"

Sherlock was puzzled, thinking his guess about the restaurant must be wrong. “Wasn't that where you had in mind?”

A squall of rain beat noisily against the window then faded out and the cab's windscreen wipers squeaked as they battled to clear the water. Sherlock, with his hands folded on his lap, looked out into the encroaching darkness at the familiar streets and landmarks.

“John” Sherlock shot a surprised look at him. “It takes me at least three seconds!” he made a little rolling motion with his hand. “Hmm mostly,” and grinned.

“What do I find interesting about you? You do know I'll ask you the same question back, don't you?” Sherlock thought for a moment, “for starters, you have known most of the worst about about me from day one and stuck around, and you are good fun, and you ask ridiculous questions in the back of taxis. Your turn.”

"Angelo's isn't the only Italian in town y'know," John grinned. "And besides...I wouldn't take any of my dates there. That's...our place. Special...to us." He blushed slightly, suddenly realising he sounded ridiculous. His logic didn't particularly make sense, but it was true, he really did feel that way.

John smiled, thinking Sherlock's response was quite typical. He'd managed to answer the question, but without really going into any emotional detail, put a comic spin on it, then turned the whole thing right back round on him. He shook his head rather ruefully, almost regretting having asked the question in the first place.

"I...I don't know," John mumbled, trying to think. "I mean, you're annoying, practically impossible to live with, arrogant, self centred, lazy, obnoxious but...but at the same time you're...you're...amazing, incredible, funny, hilarious in fact, clever, intelligent, genius, interesting, fascinating, loyal, caring in your own way, and...and I know you're a good bloke."

John blushed and looked away, thinking he probably would have embarrassed his friend by saying to much, bearing his heart.

Sherlock nodded. “I took you to Angelo's to show you part of the fabric of my life, and it's now a part of yours, so we can agree on calling it 'a place significant in our history'”

“Quite a list, but I may have to dispute some of it. While we eat. I'm not a genius, for example.” Sherlock smiled to show that he genuinely wasn't trying to start an argument.

The taxi began to pull away from traffic lights. The detective thought about the wisdom of making an admission but decided there might not be a better time to say at least part of what was on his mind.

“My turn again" Sherlock took up the cue to carry on when John fell silent. "You see the world in a different way to me and it awes me that you make it possible for me to see it as well. You put me in the privileged position of seeing it by showing it to me. You are also unique in being the only person who has bothered to try to understand me. That also makes you very interesting”

John was quite sure he was blushing as Sherlock spoke. They'd never done this before. Told each other what they liked about one another. And it was quite a revelation to hear Sherlock speaking so frankly, so honestly.

"Th-thank you," John mumbled, not quite knowing what else to say, although at the last bit he added, "you're a complex person Sherlock, and yeah, quite difficult to understand, but you're my friend, so I'll always try. You're...you're worth it."

He smiled slightly, giving Sherlock a brief embarrassed glance, and was quite relieved when the taxi pulled up outside Angelo's. "Ahh, here we are," John dug out his wallet. "I'll take care of this..."

Sherlock wondered if John had had enough of talking about things that they never discussed and just nodded his assent when John paid the taxi fare. It was a wonder to him that John had managed to say so much when it obviously embarrassed him and it was certainly very revealing.

This lack of understanding between them was partly why they had arguments, the detective thought as they walked into Angelo's. The window seats, never popular with customers because people looked in the window, were empty. It was only if he needed the window seats that he reserved them which he had done on the first night he had taken John there. Sherlock took off his coat and scarf and laid them to one side then unbuttoned his jacket to sit down and wait for Billy to finish serving a customer.

The detective was sure that John got moody because he had unwittingly transgressed some unspoken rule that he didn't know was there until he tripped over it. John, so comfortable with living in his world, had done sterling work teaching him to recognise sentiment and sarcasm but he could imagine that he would be hopeless on a real date not knowing the unspoken rules.

“John, would you like me to show you how to help more seeing as you enjoy doing that?” Sherlock asked.

John climbed out of the cab and followed Sherlock into the restaurant, pleased to see that their favourite window seats were available.

He took his jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair before sitting down. It felt good to be back here with Sherlock. It had been a while.

John smiled at his friend and glanced at the menu, looking up when Sherlock spoke.

"Yes of course," he replied enthusiastically. "Anything I can do to help..."

“Good,” The detective smiled and then looked out of the window. How, Sherlock thought, how did you do it, how did you make me like this, how did you make me feel this way about you. Anything I can do to help. Anything.

[Only admins are allowed to see this image]

“That was a very useful analysis you did...back there” Sherlock glanced back to John. “That told me where the crime scene is, the area at least. And that it was probably in a car park”

“The window is 6 hours,So the next question is which wife clocked him on the back of the head, the first one or the second. I'll need you to help me analyse some of the samples.”

((Awww the picture...so sweet!))


John decided what he was going to have off the menu, then glanced up at Sherlock. "What are you having?" He asked, then noticed Sherlock was looking the other way, gazing out of the window.

"Thanks," he mumbled when the detective spoke to him, bowing his head and blushing slightly at the compliments. "Just glad I could be of some use really."

He frowned then, realising he must have missed something. "Sorry, did you just say the guy had two wives?"

(( XD, yeah, a perfect match. Hey, the last line especially I could hear John as clear as day ))



“Mm?” Sherlock's train of thought was disrupted by John speaking. “Oh yes. What do you suggest? Something light and easily digestible that won't slow my thinking down.”

It was intriguing Sherlock that at the moment the case wasn't his highest priority, especially not if John was going to help him make up for lost time by helping him with analysing the samples. A case not his highest priority? That, he thought, had to be a first for him.

John, a little pinker than usual Sherlock observed, suddenly had all of his attention, his eyes fixed onto his friend. “Yes. Two wives.”

Sherlock explained, “Two wedding rings, the one he had on is narrow and tight on his finger. That's the first marriage.... Why? Because he put weight on over time, so it has to be his first marriage...The greeny black mark on his finger? That's wider than the ring, the staining has been made by a second, wider wedding ring.”

((XD Thanks!))



John listened slightly open mouthed as Sherlock quickly revealed the situation with the wedding rings, wondering why he hadn't noticed it himself. "That's...really...quite brilliant," he smiled. "And so simple when you explain it..."

He frowned and shook his head slightly, then remembered Sherlock's earlier question and picked up the menu again.

"Well you um...you could have the tomato and mozarella salad?" he suggested, glancing up. "That's light. Easily digestible. And quite nice I believe."

“I shouldn't explain it to you, or one day you might think I'm ordinary.” Sherlock smiled “It's only observing details, but thank you.” he relaxed and basked in the pleasure of John seeing him in a good light.

Billy, came to take their order while Angelo took plates to a table. “Nice to see you both again, what can we get you?”

Sherlock returned the smile “John, recommends your tomato and mozzarella salad and I'll have a bottle of lager as well, please.”

The detective waited until John had ordered his meal and Billy had gone. His eyes narrowed very slightly. “I'm wondering where the other ring is, in his pocket perhaps.”

Sherlock added “Anyway, forget work, what else would you talk about on a date?”

"You'll never be ordinary Sherlock," John mumbled quietly, just as Billy came over to the table.

"Nice to see you too," John smiled then looked back at the menu briefly. "I'll have the uhh...spaghetti bolognaise please. And um...a lager too." He glanced at Sherlock and smiled, then handed his menu back.

Moments later Billy came back and plonked a candle down on the table before heading off to get their drinks.

"What do people talk about on a date?" John repeated the question and sighed, trying to think. "Well...they do talk about work, but probably not as much as we do. They talk about...their interests, hobbies, what they like, what they don't like...um...I always end up annoying my dates by talking about you." He grinned. "I guess you're not really supposed to talk about other people too much."

“You never will be ordinary either. You are the only person, in a very long time, who has appreciated my abilities just for what they are. Lestrade, clients they all get something out of it, but you, no, there was nothing in it for you. Count that as something else I find interesting about you. And you think out loud.” which is what I've just done Sherlock thought keeping that to himself.

Sherlock looked briefly at the red candle that Billy had brought. Evidence perhaps since John hadn't yet objected to what it implied. Or John was too busy thinking to object.

“John, in a room full of supposedly clever people you were the only person who figured out that 'Rachel' was Jennifer Wilson's password. Count that as well. You aren't 'people' any more than I am.”

Sherlock didn't want to say it, but he felt that he should. “You had better not talk about me to your dates then. They get jealous because we have a connection. They don't want to compete with me for your attention.” he looked down and then away sadly because he was giving John the key to leaving him.

John felt pride seeping through his veins at Sherlock's compliments. To hear the great detective himself tell him he was clever, intelligent, different to the rest, he felt genuinely touched and honoured. "Thank you," he mumbled, playing around with his fork and avoiding eye contact.

John sighed a little impatiently as he remembered the way his dates always reacted. "But I can't help talking about you Sherlock you're..." He hesitated, surprised at what he found himself about to say, but realising it was true all the same. "You're everything to me. You're my whole life and if they can't accept you then that means they're not accepting me."

He pouted a little, thinking their whole attitude was stupid. "There's no reason for them to get jealous. It's not like we're sleeping together or anything." John blushed, realising he'd said the last part rather loudly, and glanced over at another table to see if anyone had heard.

(Sorry for the delay!! Uni kept me unexpectedly busy...)

While John and Sherlock were enjoying their somehow turned rather romantic and intimate dinner Molly Hooper was just finishing up a fresh body that had been delivered to the morgue minutes before her shift would have ended... if it hadn't been for the "emergency drop of".
Flicking the medical gloves into the bin she sighted. She really wished she had someone waiting for her at home with a back massage and self-made dinner. As usual, when indulging in that little fantasy, she couldn't help turing this mysterious man waiting for her into one Sherlock Holmes but she figured a girl could dream.

Finally fishing her keys out of her handbag she locked to doors and made her way towards the nearest tube station, too tired to deal with catching a cap. While she was mentally preparing herself for a lonely evening with microwaved last-minute dinner from Tesco's and crap telly she, once again, told herself she'd had to move on and forget about that bloody sociopath who used her however the hell he wanted...

Then again, she was always glad to help.

(( Ah, Molly dear nice to see you with us now ))



“John, I appreciate everything you've just said, really, I do. I feel the same way about you.” Sherlock leaned over the table slightly and spoke quietly “And it is apparent to other people, I've lost count of the number of people who have assumed that we are a couple.”

Sherlock stopped talking and leaned back in his chair because Billy arrived at his elbow with their drinks and glasses “Won't be long now with your meals” Billy smiled and reached into his trouser pocket.

“Thank you” Sherlock replied just as Billy got out a lighter from his pocket. Billy lit the candle, smiled and walked away still smiling.

Sherlock sighed quietly and waited expecting John to object.

John blushed when Sherlock mentioned he'd lost count of the many people who'd assumed they were a couple, because he knew it was true. He'd lost count too.

"I don't know why people think it though," he mumbled quietly, leaning towards Sherlock as the detective leant towards him, speaking conspiratorially into his ear. "It doesn't make any sense."

John sat back in his seat again as Billy came over and watched with a frown as he lit the candle, then sighed slightly and said nothing.

"Like Billy and Angelo for example," he continued after the waiter had gone. "They've thought we were together since day one. Why?"

Why?

John wasn't the only one asking himself - or rather the general public - that question. In contrast to John Molly wouldn't have minded being mistaken for Sherlocks date or, even better, his partner... Wallowing in her misery she got up, having decided it was time to treat herself to a nice helping of her favourite chocolate ice cream and maybe a bit of strawberry sauce.
Once she had helped herself to a generous portion she settled back down on her couch, returning to watch that history drama about these Boylen girls. She had zapped into it quite by accident but one of the characters really did look a bit like Sherlock and that was pretty much her downfall. Well, at least the downfall of her early night.

Somehow she ended up thinking about the annoying sociopath again; it didn't even matter how rude he behaved towards her or how ignorant he was, she couldn't help it. Sometimes, she wondered if life would be easier if she tried to hit it of with that friend of his. The army doctor; the John-guy as she had finally managed to get into her head. He was nice enough, he didn't look too bad either and he certainly didn't use her. Then again, she heard he is supposed to be a bit of a ladies man. An undignified snort escaped her when she tried picturing herself with John. Yeah, the mousy, shy girl with the weird job and the ladies man. Not gonna happen.
In fact, she was quite sure she had only seen him with a girl once. At that horrible Christmas party but she had been ditched for Sherlock Holmes.

Hu, seems like the Doctor and me have something in common... Mr Sociopath says jump and we do not hesitate a single second... she thought, getting back to her abandoned film and her ice cream.

“Why does it have to make sense? Must be rubbing off from me onto you.” Sherlock rolled the 'r' aware of his innuendo. He knew too what transferred, as if by osmosis, from John to himself.

Angelo himself brought the meals and insisted they were “On the 'ouse. You' not on a case if your'e eating, eh,” he laughed genially and winked knowingly. “I's good to see you, you busy, I know. You and John, you enjoy, eh...”

“Thank you.” Sherlock replied leaning back in his chair looking up at their host. His smile started genuinely enough but didn't quite reach his eyes, it was the politest smile in his repertoire, the one which he used for looking normal and behaving like John had taught him to.

Not being able to lean over the table Sherlock wriggled round the bench seat to be closer to John and speak without being overheard. He wished he could stay in such close proximity.

“Why, Billy and Angelo? Because I let you into my life by bringing you here, because I wanted you to be in it, which I had never done before. They notice that because you are the only person I've brought here. Because they could see that I was interested in learning more about you and you about me. Why else would I break the rule of a lifetime if...” Sherlock had speeded up as his linear thoughts poured out but he stopped before he said too much.

Sherlock gave up the idea of moving back round the table and moved his plate instead. “Why do you think people couple us up?” he took another drink of his lager.

John frowned at Sherlock's initial statement, not really sure what he meant exactly. What was supposed to be rubbing off?

He sat back in his seat as Angelo brought the food over, blushing but saying nothing when he announced the food was for free and looked from one to the other. There was really no point denying it, he thought. There was no way he'd believe them anyway.

John smirked almost to himself when he saw Sherlock's smile. It was one of the ones he recognised. He used it a lot. He considered then for a moment, that quite possibly he was the only one Sherlock ever gave a genuine smile to, and he felt quite touched.

Sherlock's smile was amazing, incredible, beautiful even, and it was always a delight for John whenever he saw it, especially if he knew that it was him that caused it. He blushed even deeper then at his own thoughts. They weren't a couple.

He gave Sherlock a small smile as his friend shuffled closer, quite comfortable to have him sitting next to him rather than opposite, and he leaned in so the detective could whisper in his ear unheard by the remainder of the restaurant.

John cocked his head thoughtfully, not even sure if he had an answer to the question. "Because we're...close, the best of friends," he began cautiously, "because we prefer to spend time with each other instead of with anyone else, we always stand up for one another, look out for one another, protect each other. Because I cancel dates to hang around with you, and you never have dates and you're never seen hanging out with anyone except me. We live together. I should...probably stop there..." And he did do, suddenly aware there was rather a long list and he could probably think of more if he went on.