The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 38

Sherlock didn't leave the room as John dressed, so he dragged his lap robe with him before flicking it onto the bed.  His dressing gown was long enough to nearly touch the floor, and as long as he wasn't walking towards Sherlock, it hid the scarring on his leg well enough.  John rang the bell for Matthews, who might have been waiting on the other side of the door with the basin of warm water for as quickly as he appeared.

John stepped behind the screen in the corner, washed, and only reappeared when he had the majority of his clothing about his person.  John's new clothing had been installed in his new home, but he looked at the knit sweaters from Mrs. Phillips sitting in a drawer next to his worn buckskins with longing.  He felt a bit like he was wearing a stranger's clothes.   Matthews helped with the buttons and ties and coat, straightening him up quite tidily.  In no time at all, he was ready to hobble along the market street after his husband.  He had to admit that, with walking sticks being in fashion, he looked quite dapper.  If he leaned a little more heavily on it than other gentlemen, well, no one would say anything.

The bookshop was within walking distance, and John felt healthier with the morning sun on his face and the warmth of a good walk in his legs.  In the places where the cobbles were rougher, Sherlock took John's hand and wrapped it around his elbow for balance.

"Pick out anything you like, John," Sherlock directed as they stepped into a warm bookshop that smelled of leather and paper and the tangy scent of ink.

"Oh, I'm sure I can make do with the books in your library, Sherlock.  There are bound to be dozens I've never read."

Sherlock sighed.

"I will inform you if the books you pick out are already in my library.  We've no need for frugality on Mycroft's tab.  Go.  Buy something."

Sherlock fell into conversation with the shop owner, someone apparently well-acquainted with Sherlock's preferences.  John looked about himself in a bit of awe.  There were quite a few books around when he was growing up, but they weren't really intended for reading.  They arrived by the crate and recently disappeared the same way.  He had his medical texts, certainly, but much of what he had learned was by apprenticeship and practice.

Now, faced with such choice, he grappled with indecision.  What did he want?  He moved to the nearest shelf, eyes flicking over the gilding on the spines.  He could have anything.  John walked from section to section, reading labels and pulling random books off the shelves.  He felt like the whole world was crammed into this tiny shop in London and he was welcome to venture anywhere.

In the end, he selected two travelogues, one about Egypt and one about the West Indies.  He might be able to ask Petrina Holmes how accurate it was to her experiences if she visited.  When he carried them up to the counter, Sherlock merely glanced at him and said, "Only two?" and added them to his growing pile.

Sherlock signed his name to the bill and gave the direction of Lord Sherrinford while smirking.  The shop owner didn't seem surprised in the least; of course, Sherlock had been charging to his brother's accounts all his life.  Sherlock made further instruction for delivery of the books to Baker Street before taking John's arm and strolling back into the street.

"Is there anything else you have need of while we're out, John?"

"I can't think of anything I need.  Everything seems to have been taken care of for me."

"Yes, well, that's Mycroft at his most overbearing.  He'll make all the arrangements for every breath you take, if you let him."

They stopped at Edgers and Sons, which turned out to be a small forge.  The air inside smelled hot and smoky.  Workers spun long tubes with glowing bubbles of molten glass on the ends, handling them as easily as if they were children's toys.  To the side of the glassworks was a glittering shop full of their wares.  The front room held all the decorative items, pleasing to the eye and glinting at the passersby.  Sherlock walked through this without looking and entered a back room more practically stocked with flasks and bottles and jars.