You and Sherlock

Let's Go Home

You shivered slightly in the night air, wrapping your arms around yourself. Beside you, Sherlock sat on the back steps on an ambulance. A paramedic wandered over a put an orange blanket around Sherlock's shoulders and he frowned. Smiling to yourself at his antics, you sat down beside him.

"Why have I got this blanket?" He gestured aggravatedly at the blanket. "They keep putting this blanket on me," he continued, sounding indignant. You smiled.

"It's for the shock," you explained, bringing your knees up to your chest. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

" I'm not in shock." Sherlock pointed out, still indignant.

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs," you looked pointedly at a photographer wandering about and Sherlock rolled his eyes again watching Lestrade as he approached.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Sherlock asked as Lestrade came to a stop in front of you.

Lestrade shook his head.

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but..." Lestrade shrugged carelessly, "...got nothing to go on."

Sherlock gave you an incredulous glance-- as if to ask you can you believe this man? -- and then turned back to Lestrade.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that,"

You and Lestrade rolled your eyes simultaneously.

"Okay," you sighed. "Do tell," You rubbed your arms around yourself again. Sherlock stood whisking his shock blanket off and then putting it around your shoulders before he began moving slightly, taking tiny paces.

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a handgun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon - that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter," Sherlock concluded, glancing at Lestrade to make sure he was paying attention. "His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..." Sherlock paused, looking around the area. You followed his gaze to John Watson, who stood some distance away. "... and nerves of steel ..."

Sherlock trailed off, eyes narrowing at John who looked back innocently and then turned away. John's hand reached back and rubbed his neck. Uncomfortable, you realized. And then the dots connected, but before Lestrade could ask any questions, Sherlock was speaking again.

" Actually, do you know what? Ignore me."

Lestrade blinked, startled. "Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that," Sherlock waved his hand around vaguely, reaching back to grab your arm. "It's just the, er, the shock talking."

Gripping your arm more tightly, Sherlock tugged you up and started walking toward John.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade called out behind you. Sherlock showed absolutely no signs of responding, so you half-turned to call back,

"WE're just going to talk -- about what happened?"

"But I've still got questions for you." Lestrade protested, taking a few steps in your direction.

Sherlock whirled around irritably, flinging the shock blanket off your shoulders and brandishing it menacingly at Lestrade. Well, as menacingly as anyone could brandish a bright orange aluminum-foil like flap of fabric.

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" He waved the blanket around more dramatically. Your trio was attracting stares, you noticed, especially those of Donovan's and Anderson's. You glared right back, though.