This song has nothing to do with the chapter but I absolutely love it so enjoy :)
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John
221b Baker street. That's the address sent to me by the consulting detective earlier in the day. The building in which the flat sat was rather tall. I stood right in front of the big gleaming black door with the gold numbers 221b on it. Finally gathering courage I open the door with the key Sherlock had slid into my pocket. Frankly, I wouldn't have found it if it weren't for the cold London air freezing my hands into submission for warmth inside my pockets.
I walk in and close the door behind me, locking it again. I breathe in that familiar scent wondering why it feels like I've known the smell my whole life. I start walking up the stairs and get a weird warmth in my stomach. Each creak in the step and the smell, which I realize is a mix of Sherlock's cologne and home cooking, give me more comfort as I reach another closed door. I hear voices inside and knock lightly.
"Come in, John," I hear a low voice rumble and open the door. I see a nice-looking woman who looks to be around 60 standing opposite Sherlock. Sherlock was standing on the couch facing several papers pinned to the wall. He was wearing a bathrobe over his rather fancy clothes. When he heard me walk in he turned towards me and smiled.
"Hello, John. Please sit," He gestured to a chair in the middle of the room. I sat down and he sat opposite. 'This is Mrs. Hudson. She's the landlady."
"Hello dear! I'll make you both a cuppa while you talk!" She smiled kindly and left to go to the kitchen.
Sherlock
"I'm just saying, dear. Maybe a relationship wouldn't do you bad." Mrs. Hudson was trying to convince me that I should start using my emotions. Terribly stupid idea. Emotions are a weakness. I may find John rather enthralling but it will pass. Anyway, he's coming to live here to help me with investigations not to be in a relationship with a sociopath.
"Oh Mrs. Hudson! Not this again. I don't need a relationship. What I need is to solve who this fucking murderer is." I emphasized feeling slightly agitated.
"Language, Sherlock!" She warned looking at me with a stern eye. I turned away standing on the couch looking over the evidence again. I heard a light knock on the door and told the catalyst of the noise to come in.
(Time skip to later in the evening)
After talking for a couple of hours, I think we were both settled on the moving in part of this. We decided that tomorrow we would pick up his stuff from his current flat. After he had left for the night I sat in my chair with my violin. I smiled to myself staring at his chair while plucking at the strings. That night is filled with a dream that just might complicate things...
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"John! John!" I cry looking out into the fog. My eyes are frantic and searching. I hear a groan of pain come from a couple of feet away. I get up feeling a jabbing pain in my side but choosing to ignore it. I run over, almost tripping on something, and fall purposefully beside the shorter male. I pull him up on my lap and feel his labored breathing against my cheek.
After making sure John was okay I look around to see where we are and notice we're in a small dark cell. I hear a loud buzzer and suddenly the dream shifts. It seems like it's us hours before the previous scene. John and I walk down the street slowly and I realize we are holding hands.
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I gasp and sit up in my bed rubbing my head as a headache starts to form. I turn to the clock on my nightstand and see how it's almost 5. I decide to get up and shower knowing I won't be sleeping anymore today. Not since that dream. Something seemed to have planted a seed in my mind. Maybe it was that talk about relationships with Mrs. Hudson. Damn her for getting at me.
I turn off the water and step out getting dressed and fixing my hair before exiting the bathroom. I walk to the kitchen and grab a mug of tea sitting already on the table. I suddenly feel a wave of butterflies go through my stomach. John. Something about him... I hope this will go okay and I don't fuck it up.
John
It was half-past 9 when a black car pulled up in front of my flat. An elegant-looking gentleman got out of the car and took my bags and boxes. I didn't have too much stuff in my flat because I had only recently returned from Afghanistan so I just had some clothes and a few boxes of stuff I owned before I left. I got in the backseat where I saw Sherlock sitting. He looked at me when the door closed.
"Hello, John," his voice was less monotone than yesterday. "Don't mind the car. It's my brother Mycroft's. He's rather over the top for my taste."
"Oh that's alright," I reply looking around absentmindedly.
The gentlemen sat back in the driver's seat and we were off to Baker Street.
YOU ARE READING
never felt real
Fanfic"Well knowing would just ruin the fun." With a wink in his direction, I was gone.
