Sherkock Holmes: infamous for being void of all emotion.
John Watson: praised deeply for putting up with the difficult detective.
Both men were content with where they were. After Moriarty, after Mary. For the first time in a while they seem happy...
They had been buzzing about this case all morning, it had been weeks since they'd been called for one. Lastraude finally found something they'd like. They had rushed around to get ready and find someone to babysit Rosie. Turns out that Piper and Alfie actually wanted to spend time together. Looks like their plan had worked. They had been spending so much time together lately that it was almost unreal. Neither of them were ready to question it though, they didn't want to jinx it. They'd worked so hard to get them there and thought it best just to stay out of whatever they were doing and let them get on with it.
"You ready?" John asked as he threw his coat on. Sherlock hummed as he slid his scarf around his neck. "Let's go then, shall we." They nodded to each other and headed out. John put his hands in his pockets to shield himself from the cold. He felt a crumpled piece of paper, pulling it out slightly he saw Piper's delicate handwriting elegantly scratched across the page. He saw the word love and instantly shoved it back in his pocket, he knew it was bound to be something about Sherlock. It was probably a note telling him that he needs to tell his best friend that he loves him. When they were in the taxi curiosity got the better of him and he just had to know what it said. He pulled it out when he was sure that Sherlock was deep in thought.
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He knew that she was serious and he knew that she would probably announce it in the most dramatic way possible. She's most likely write it in blood on his ceiling or something. He sighed and tried not to think about it too hard, shoving the note back in his pocket. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, trying to collect his thoughts. She had said "admit you love each other", which he was very confused at. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind for a little while, just whilst they were working, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but think it over. If she's put one in John's pocket she was bound to have put one in Sherlock's. He needed to get it out. He needed a distraction, something that would make the driver and Sherlock look somewhere else. Luckily for him pigions are quite stupid creatures, but they're also part of England, so if you see one in the middle of the road you're going to swerve out of the way. That's exactly what the driver did: he turned the steering wheel so sharply that Sherlock seemed to fall onto John, who saw this as his chance and gently dipped his hand into his friends clat pocket, grasping the piece of paper triumphantly. If this were any normal day, he would have gloated to his friend about how he pick pocketed him and he didn't seem to notice, but it wasn't so he didn't. He gently unfolded the scrunched up note and read over it carefully, cursing when he realized what had happened.
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Piper had planed for this. She knew that John would try to get the note off Sherlock, so she planted a fake note in Sherlock's pocket. He sighed at his own stupidity as they clambered out of the taxi when they got to Scotland Yard and a letter was immediately thrust into Sherlock's hand by Greg.
"Piper's a wierd one, but she's a great gal." He smiled and nodded to Sherlock as he lead them to the crime scene. John sighed once more and almost threw himself off of the bridge they were on. Today was not going in his favour.
