Data Doesn't Lie (Johnlock)

Chapter 15

JOHN

  Lestrade seemed almost more excited than we were. He practically leapt upon his desktop, looking much more awake. "I knew it!" he repeated. Sherlock avoided his gaze, embarrassed. As cute as he looked with that rosy pink tint in his cheeks, I had to tear my eyes away from him to calm Lestrade.
  "It was supposed to be a secret," I scolded him. "Now the whole bloody lobby knows!"

  He shrugged, unapologetic. "Not that they didn't expect it." From outside the shuttered window, Sally gave him a what-that-actual-hell? look. He waved cheerfully at her as if nothing had happened. "So how long has it been?" He asked with a smile. "Or rather, how long have you known?"

  "It's none of your business," Sherlock snapped. I rested a hand on his arm to calm him, and smiled to myself when he settled. I'd make a lovely housewife, wouldn't I? I thought randomly. "It's very new," I explained softly. "So if you'd please...-"Shut up about it?" Sherlock interrupted, still looking a little anxious. Greg's eyes widened. "Oh, sorry mate," he apologized before waving us off in a dismissive manner. "But you two might as well get down there I've still got stuff to do."

  I nodded and thanked him, Sherlock turned and waited in the doorway for me. "And no kissing at the crime scene," he joked quietly after us. Sherlock glared at him, but sighed eventually and turned away. There were a few smirks and sniggers when we exited Lestrade's office, but I urged him to ignore them. So he held his head up high and paid no attention to anyone else who dared cross his mood. It made me happy to know that I was one of the few people, possibly one of the only, that could tame this impossible man. This impossible, stubborn, beautiful man.

SHERLOCK

  John was very good at consoling me, that much was obvious. He had many perks that made him so perfect. He was short and cute, which made me look taller and more menacing. He made me tea and kissed me even when I was acting up. He listened to my music without complaint and took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself. I thought of all these wonderful things as I tried to hail another cab at the crosswalk, occasionally glancing down at John with a faint smile.

  John was looking away and didn't notice my gaze, but I doubted he'd mind. For a moment I was mesmerized. His eyes looked so bright in the sun...

  A cab pulled up quite violently on the curb, forcing me from my thoughts. I opened the door for John, as manners are important as far as I hear, and climbed in the back seat with him. John recited the address to the cabbie, who seemed very nonchalant about his entire existence. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, but John insisted I not complain. My polite little blogger...

  The crime scene swarmed with cars and imbecile neighbors trying to get a good look at what had become of their well-known company. I paid the cabbie this time, who grumbled something not comprehendible and sped off like he had somewhere to be. I should have deduced him, but I was too stoked about this case.

  A downside to this was that until Lestrade arrived, I'd have to deal with all these minor deputies on my tailcoat like fleas. John would keep me calm, but nothing could be more aggravating to ruin such a good case. In fact, one approached me as soon as I arrived on scene. He was divorced, obviously, and didn't get much sleep. Guilt, most likely from cheating. The reason behind the divorce, no doubt. I scowled at his arrival. What was it with deputies and cheating on their wives?

  No matter, I had it settled with not too much conflict and lifted the crime scene tape for John. The wind was restless and chilled, flapping the bright yellow strings into his face like streamers. I turned up my collar to protect my neck, my hair blowing in circles around my face. Windy air, double-homicide, no Anderson. Today was a good day.

  The image was vicious. This was obviously a rage killing. The man was the target, as stabbing someone repeatedly takes some devotion. The woman was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, it appeared. I asked John what he saw in the wounds to the man's chest, as a second opinion is almost always necessary.

  "Well...They're very thin. The weapon could have been a cutlery knife or something flat and sharp like that." I smiled at him, wondering if he'd reached a similar conclusion to mine. He bit his lip, thinking on the topic. "This murder wasn't planned," he said suddenly. "The killer had to have been provoked, or else they would have brought something more efficient."

  I didn't hold back a grin, standing up from my crouching position. My blogger was finally observing, and I was proud. "My thoughts exactly."

JOHN

  Sherlock seemed happy with my answer, turning back to his work. I enjoyed watching him inspect, as he always got so wrapped up in it. To my surprise, he was done rather quickly, bouncing up from his position and springing off. I sighed, following him when he beckoned to me. Lestrade had arrived, and was having a rushed chat with Sherlock when I stepped up. "I'll work on it more tonight," Sherlock promised. "But I have an idea."

  Lestrade waved us off to talk to some deputy and again, I followed my detective. I hadn't seen him this excited in weeks, and it was quite a show. He jabbered on about what he thought and some guesses he'd made and how he was this close to making a breakthrough. I couldn't keep a smile off my face as I listened.

  "Your tip, John," he said suddenly, interrupting himself. "That's what kickstarted it, I should have known." I was perplexed, of course, but a wide grin spread across his face.

  Before I could even react, Sherlock had broken the one rule Lestrade had set up for us. "No kissing at the crime scene." He had his hands on my cheeks and was practically yanking me up to his height. All movement around us stopped. It was blissful for a few moments, until a loud hiccup cut us off.

  I pulled away, agitated, to find Sally Donovan halfway out of a squad car, her eyes open wide and breath caught in her throat. I vaguely detected the word "freak" on her lips, which had died along with the rest of her sentence. A few paces away from us, Lestrade tried hard to restrain his laughter. I felt heat in my face and averted my eyes, but Sherlock grinned proudly.

  He waved to Donovan like she was an old friend, his smile never wavering. There were more mutters behind us, but most were actually cheerful."About time," whispered someone. "I should've known," chortled another. And Sherlock kept his grin for the rest of the night, his hand in mine with triumph over Scotland Yard's worst kept secret.