A/N~ What do you guys think? I love your feedback! Im feeling lonely so it would be much appreciated :D -AB
Ch. 16
Sherlock looked over the graffiti for a good half hour. John picked up the half empty can of red spray-paint and pocketed it to take as evidence. City police drove by a few times and John nodded to them. Sherlock looked at that roman numeral three over and over again. It reminded him of the 'Blind Banker' case. But, at least with that they had outside help with who could crack the code. With this, there isn't anything. NOTHING, he thought. Its just a silly number three. What is it? What does it mean? It was enough to make him want to go to his mind palace. But, he knew John was freezing and he was getting cold as well.
"Alright. I think that's it for this," Sherlock finally said, placing his mini magnifying glass back in his pocket. John was shivering and trying to sink into his jacket and Sherlock's scarf. He nodded and the two men walked back to the truck. Thank God for heated seats, John thought. He hopped into the passengers side, deciding Sherlock needed to drive around to get to know Hagerstown better. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue, and hopped into the driver's seat and started up the truck. Luckily, it wasn't sitting for over an hour, so it heated up quickly.
"So what do you think, John?" Sherlock asked, messing with the radio again.
"I think this guy is insane. Who obsesses over a damn number?" John asked.
"Well, that much is certain, the insane part anyway. The 'three' is interesting. There must be a connection," Sherlock said, settling on the mix station that they had on before. "So, where should we go to get furniture? We at least need to get a table, and chairs. And a coffee table. And a sofa...," he said.
"Whoa, alright. There was a furniture store in that huge shopping complex by the barracks," John suggested.
"Ok. Well...im going to need a microscope too. I didn't bring mine," Sherlock said.
"Yes you did," John said, smirking.
"No, I didn't. I didn't pack it," Sherlock insisted.
"No, you did not. But, I did. I wrapped it up in bubble wrap and in one of my jumpers so it wouldn't get broken, and put it in my suitcase," John said, smiling.
"Oh...oh, ok then. Thank you. Thank you very much," Sherlock said, smiling.
"Act so surprised that I did something nice for you," John teased.
"No, I mean, it just surprised me. It disappointed me I couldn't bring it, because I knew I would need it," Sherlock said. He wanted to kiss John right now, but couldn't due to the fact he was driving. John was probably the sweetest person in the entire world. John leaned over and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.
"Your welcome, love," John said happily. He loved to see Sherlock happy. He always had, even before they were a couple. Sherlock Holmes, who only ever got happy when he was working, revealed his true colors to no one in the entire world but John Watson. And that's the way they both liked it and they both ensured it would stay that way.
They pulled into a parking spot in front Wolf's furniture, and walked quickly into the store due to the wind picking up.
"Damn, so many choices...," John said. He hadn't shopped for furniture in years. Last time that he remembered was when he lived at home with Harry and his mother.
"Well, we have time. Look to your heart's content, love," Sherlock said, smiling.
"Um...not to spoil the mood or anything, but...how much money did your brother give us to, well, live?" John asked.
Sherlock grinned. "It's an American Express Black Card. There is no limit," he said. John's mouth dropped open and Sherlock just chuckled. "I told you before, money isn't an issue, love,"
"Well, I guess I can chalk it up to that we are working for it," John said, trying to convince himself.
"Damn right. Now, what do you want to look at first?" Sherlock asked.
"Um, not sure. Let's just walk around and see what they have," John suggested.
"Well, I already saw a couch over here and it looks a lot like the one we have at Baker Street," Sherlock said, leading John over to it. John smiled at him and looked at the couch. It was almost an exact replica, except for no smiley face and bullet holes on the wall above it. He missed home, but he knew that he would be back there as soon as this business with Mr. E. done and over with.
"I love it," John said.
"Me too. Ok, sofa-check. Now, coffee table? Hmm," Sherlock said, looking around for a suitable one. He liked the one he had at home. It was sturdy enough that when he didn't feel like walking all the way around the couch he could just walk over it and it not break.
"Sherlock...look," John said. No way, he thought.
"Hmm? Oh...oh," Sherlock said.
"Is that...our table?" John asked, laughing a little.
"Well, we have a Dakota Mango wood coffee table, and those you can only get in the U.K., but...this is damn close," Sherlock said, looking at it from every angle he could. Of course it wasn't the exact same, but close enough. He wanted it and he could tell John did too.
"What are we doing? Turning this house into a Baker Street replica?" John joked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John.
"You know...that's a good idea," Sherlock said.
"We aren't going to be here that long, love," John said.
"Should make it as comfortable as possible while we are here, though, right?" Sherlock asked. John smiled warmly at him. Of course it wouldn't be exactly the same, but they could add a few touches that would make it more home-like.
"As long as you don't shoot the wall," John teased.
"I don't have to. I was bored when I did that. But now, I have much more enjoyable things to occupy my time," Sherlock said, voice dropping even lower than it was already. How does he do that? John thought. He can say a simple sentence and I want to jump him right here...doesn't help that he everything he does is sexy. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he runs his hand through his hair, and oh dear God his eyes..."John?" came Sherlock's deep baritone voice.
"Hm? Yes, sorry. Just...you know what talking like that makes me feel like doing, right?" John asked, blush creeping up on the back of his neck. Sherlock leaned in close so he could whisper.
"Oh, yes. I planned on it," he said, breath hot on John's ear, making him shiver.
"Oh, hell, Sherlock. You are teasing me on purpose," John said, looking up into Sherlock's eyes, that were only reflecting what his own eyes were showing at the moment; lust.
"Yes I am. What are you going to do about it?" Sherlock asked, teasingly.
"Well, I can't exactly do anything here...but I think we should go home. Now," John said.
"Let me place the order and then I'm all yours," Sherlock said, winking at John and walking over to one of the salesmen. John let out a deep breath and shook a little. No one drove him crazy in this sense like Sherlock did. No one could make him melt by a look like Sherlock did. No, John wasn't gay, if one wished to set labels. He had never felt this way about another man before now. But, he realized along the way that gay and straight were labels. John loved Sherlock more than anything in this world and if that wasn't right according to some people, screw them. John was happy and as far as he could tell, so was Sherlock. Both of them being male didn't make a difference. He was in love with Sherlock, not what his gender was. Sherlock was a beautiful person, inside and out. Now it does help that Sherlock is so, so sexy in his tight jeans and black button down shirt, though, thought John with a smirk. John realized Sherlock Holmes was a great man from the moment they met...and, just as Greg said, they were all very, very lucky; Sherlock turned out to be a good one.
