Live In Love

The Investigation

John shut his bedroom door and pressed his forehead against it. His body felt as it had just been shocked with a live wire. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to slow down his heart rate. Well, tonight was not what I expected. He stepped away from the door and walked over to his bed. He dropped heavily onto the mattress, his body exhausted from all the emotions he had endured that night. I feel so happy, so free. And Sherlock...he likes me. And I like him. Bloody hell, I am so confused. What do we do now? Should I pursue this? Should I wait?

He laid on his bed and listened to the sound of the violin being played downstairs. He could just barely make out the tune, but he knew it was his song. He smiled and rolled on to his back, straining to hear every note of the music. He allowed himself to silence his thoughts so he could focus. He closed his eyes and let each note envelop him, lulling him in to a deep sleep.

When John awoke the next morning, all he could hear was rain pounding on the roof. He looked at the alarm clock on his beside table. It was only 8 a.m. John groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He climbed out of bed and walked groggily to the door and headed downstairs.

When he reached the living room, he realized the flat was quieter than usual. "Sherlock?" he shouted, his only reply a clap of thunder. He headed in to the kitchen and saw a note on the table next to a CD. John picked up the note and tried to read the messy handwriting.

"John. It is currently 6:45 a.m. I have been called away on a case and did not want to wake you. I should be back by noon. I made your CD. Enjoy. -SH"

John smiled and grabbed the CD off the table. Sherlock had scribbled "For John" across the case. John walked over to the stereo and put the disc in. The violin music blared from the speakers louder than he had expected, and he fumbled turning it down. When he finally got it to a manageable level, he wandered back in to the kitchen and grabbed the kettle. John put the water on the stove and looked back at the note he left sitting on the table. I wonder how Sherlock is doing? he thought.
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Sherlock got out of the cab and stretched his legs. It had taken over an hour to get to the crime scene located in the outskirts of Bristol. Sherlock's coat blew behind him as he quickly walked up the grassy hill up where he could see the task force milling about. Lestrade was busy talking to his fellow officers when Sherlock finally reached him. The inspector turned and looked at Sherlock.

"Give me one minute," Lestrade said before turning back to his colleagues.

Sherlock sighed and looked around. He could vaguely see the crime scene  in the valley below him. He figured they would be walking a fair distance. He looked back at the inspector and began to analyze him, which he did on the many occassions he became bored. Wrinkled shirt, pants not ironed. Roughly two days facial hair growth. Dark bags forming under his eyes. That was as far as Sherlock got before Lestrade faced him again.

"Right, off we go," he said, his voice a tad more gravelley than normal. As they walked down the slope, Lestrade tried to start a conversation.

"I'm surprised John didn't come," he said, eyeing Sherlock.

"I didn't ask him to," Sherlock said calmly.

"Did you two have a falling out?" Lestrade asked.

"Quite the opposite actually," Sherock replied. He smiled when he thought about the events from the night before. He tried to cover his smile with a quick look of unamusement, but Lestrade caught him before he could.

"Sherlock, did you tell him?" Lestrade asked quietly, trying to ensure no one would hear. Sherlock nodded and he heard Lestrade inhale sharply.

"Did he react well?"