To the Ends of this Earth

Chapter Two

Baker Street was sullen, no clients had come for many days, it was quiet and the grey sky made everything feel dull and dirty. John was quiet, Sherlock was quiet and Mrs. Hudson was visiting some of her old friends in America. The atmosphere was absolutely suffocating and John wanted - needed - to get out on a case with Sherlock, it had been four days now and Sherlock only stirred for an occasional sip of water and every so often, a silent trip to the bathroom.
Most of the time, John just sat in his chair across from Sherlock and stared at him. It was easy to take advantage of this situation to take time to look at Sherlock's perfect cheekbones and soft curls. John wondered if Sherlock knew that he was staring at him, he also wondered if he knew how he felt about him.

It was late into the night of the third day when Sherlock finally leaped up. John was asleep in his chair and the nose from the street had faded to a dull murmur.
"OF COURSE!" Sherlock shouted, his voice reverberating across the small flat.
John bolted awake, on full alert, ready for anything at a moments notice. "What the devil-"
"John! John! I've got it! I've solved the case!" enthused Sherlock as he reached over and shook the now standing, John.
"Okay, okay!" said John pushing Sherlock off him. "That's great! Now will you please eat something you are pale as a sheet."
Sherlock's stomach clenched and not eating for so long threatened to fall down onto him and cripple his abilities. "No, no John I can't. We have to to go now."
"There is no way I am going anywhere with you before you eat something, you are inches away from dehydration and you haven't eaten anything for days!" John was secretly exited to go out on a case with Sherlock again but his worry for Sherlock's health overruled it. He felt dreadful when he thought about Sherlock in the hospital again, he'd almost lost him once and that wasn't going to happen again.
"John, I promise I'll eat when I'm finished but we have to go now!" Sherlock was bouncing with anxious energy, he could barely contain himself and he was staring to pace around eagerly. He glanced up, John's face was set in determination. "Oh come on John, please! You have to come with me, please."
John looked up, his eyes softening when they met Sherlock's how could he deny this man anything. He felt a pang of annoyance when he thought about how forbidden his secret was and how Sherlock could bend him around so easily, but he couldn't help himself. "Get your coat," said John, turning around and heading towards the refrigerator.
"Yes!" shrieked Sherlock, his mood exactly like that of a little kid who had just found out that he was going to Disneyland.
John met him at the stairs, his pockets laden with the few foodstuffs that Sherlock had in the flat. "Let's go, shall we?"
"The game is on, my dear Watson," said Sherlock, as he twirled on the balls of his feet and stormed down the stairs, as dainty as could be.
John smiled, replaying 'my dear Watson' over and over in his head. Dr. Watson was grinning like a fool as he followed Sherlock Holmes out the door. He loved Sherlock's excitement, he loved the way he moved, and the way he put on his coat. He loved Sherlock Holmes.