The Device

Chapter 2

OMG! FINALLY! ITS A COMMENT! Thanks so much TimeyWimey, I really appreciated it! And since you asked, I delivered.

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They managed to get to the hotel with minimal trouble, earning some strange looks as the party entered the foyer. Who wouldn't? One man with his sleeves half burnt, the other looking completely normal and a young girl drenched in a black coat. One of the staff even walked up to them and asked if any help could be offered.

Sherlock replied with a bored, "No thanks." He swept his eyes over him as they walked past, a smirk tugging at his lips. He must have been doing that 'deducing' thing again, Natalie thought.

They walked off into the elevator, John pressing the button to the second floor (the hotel was only a few storeys high), John and Sherlock standing on either side of her.

Sherlock Holmes had introduced himself as a consulting detective, whatever that was. He explained it that when the police were too blind to see what was really going on, they went to him. He also said, a tad braggingly, that he was the only one in the world.

John, on the other hand, told her he was a doctor. But he didn't explain what area he specialised in. Natalie thought he must have been a paramedic from those eyes but that didn't seem right.

The doors opened up and they turned into the corridor and stopped at the first door, a shiny golden plaque on it that read, 203.

John fished for the key and slipped it in the door. Once unlocked, Sherlock opened it and headed straight into the first room, shutting the door behind him.

"He'll be out in a second." John told her. She wandered into the main room, which featured a medium-sized television, two love-seats with a table and a dining table set off to the side.

Natalie stood a bit awkwardly as John opened a cupboard and lifted out a personalised medical box, "Where should I put my bag?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm? Oh here, I'll take it." He offered.

Natalie handed it to him. Her bag was roughly half the size of a school sports bag and navy blue. John placed it on the table along with the kit and gestured for her to sit down. She shrugged off Sherlock's coat and gently laid it across the seat beside her.

Sherlock came out of the front room carrying a folder just as she sat down. As he started to spread them face-down, John stopped him.

"What are you doing?" he asked him.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm about to question Natalie."

"No you're not; not yet anyway. In fact, you are in no condition do anything for at least a day."

"What?! What are you talking about!" he demanded.

"Sherlock, in case you haven't noticed, you're kind of burned."

"What? Oh this?" he lifted his arm and examined it, "This is nothing." He went back to the photos but John interrupted again.

"Sherlock! Your sleeves are singed and some of your skin is starting to blister. Make a deduction."

"John, its fine," He said firmly, "It doesn't matter."

"To hell it matters!" Natalie flinched as John exploded. Glancing towards her, he gave her an apologetic look. He looked back to Sherlock, "Look, if I don't treat this soon, you will get scars and you will get an infection. Do you want scars on your arms?"

Sherlock averted his eyes from John's,". . . .No." he muttered.

"Do you want to get an infection?"

"No."

"Then so help me, take off your shirt or I will rip it off myself."

They locked eyes, trying to stare each other down until Sherlock said through clenched teeth, "Fine."

Still glaring at John, he started to unbutton his shirt. Natalie quickly stood up and walked around to the dining table. She fished around for her hairpin. Finding it inside one of the pockets, she pulled it out.

Once in the light, the stones glimmered green and white, the swirling blues of the pin shining a little brighter.

Natalie smiled at the sight of it. It was the last thing she had from her parents. Her smile dimmed slightly at the thought of them. She was conflicted. One part of her missed them however another despised them for what they did to her.

Natalie banished those thoughts from her mind and fitted the pin in her now dry hair.

"Could you get me a bowl of warm water Natalie? And the towel beside it too if you wouldn't mind." John asked politely.

She walked into the small kitchen and had to open some cupboards before she found the right bowl. Turning on the tap, she filled it up with some warm water, put the towel around it and walked to the coffee table, putting it down as she reached it.

"Thanks love." He murmured.

Natalie blushed ever so slightly. Brits were so . . . endearing.

Sherlock's arms were currently being bandaged up and looked to almost blend with his skin. Was it always cloudy in London? Also, he was shirtless and surprisingly toned. Not very much, but enough to see that he was fairly active.

"I feel stupid." He grumbled.

John only replied with a chuckle.

Soon the bandaging was finished so there was finally a use for the bowl.

"Put your head in the bowl."

Sherlock's head slowly turned to John, his expression clearly saying 'WTF'.

"Some of your hair is singed; you need to wash it off." He said simply.

"Wouldn't a shower do that just as well?"

"Your bandages would get wet."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and promptly dunked his head in the bowl.

Natalie was taken aback, "Is this how things usually go down with you two?"

"Some of the time." John replied with a smile.

Sherlock's head rose out the water, clumps of hairs appearing in the bowl. John handed him the towel so that he could dry his hair.