A Study In Sleep

Chapter. 5

John still had hold of Sherlock's hand not really thinking of it much when he looked over to where the house was, when they finally got to the pavement. Waiting to hail a taxi.
"Well that was rude.." he paused, looking a little perplexed, before turning to look to Sherlock, "what on earth do you think those papers were about?" He questioned curiously.

Dimmock's change in behavior and attitude obviously indicated they were something important.

Sherlock still held onto John’s hand as he gazed down to him, glancing back over for the house for a brief moment.
“Cases, lost files, metropolitan police secrets. Something along those lines otherwise it wouldn’t have affected Dimmock also.” He explained as the cab arrived, Sherlock dragging John into it with him as he still held onto his hand, not even registering he was still holding to it.
“Are we going to Baker Street? I’m not in the mood for much else today.” He grumbled a little as he gazed out the window.

"If you want to.. I think we best have a talk to Lestrade anyway, give him some comfort.." John replied, looking out the window on his side as the cabbie began to drive. Feeling something different, although he couldn't place his finger on it. Noticing Sherlock was holding his hand, out of the corner of his eye. Trying not to blush, but instead leaving it there- wondering if Sherlock had noticed already.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the word comfort for Greg as the cab drove back through London. And much to Sherlock’s obliviousness, he was still holding firmly to John’s hand, not saying much as he focused on London outside. The famous detective was holding someone’s hand, John’s hand, and he didn’t even realise it. It was rather sweet and Sherlock didn’t want to let go. He never done things like this, something must have changed the job.

John couldn't help but steal his hand back quietly when he began feeling the horrible sensation of pins and needles in it, because he had held the detectives hand for so long.
This was when they had finally arrived back in Baker Street and the cab had pulled up outside. The great well-known door standing outside with the brass lettering on it and, however, the door knocker straightened to its original position.
The blogger got out swiftly, holding the door open for the detective as he looked at the door curiously, "has someone straightened the door knocker?" He asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at it questionably.

Sherlock’s eyes widened when he felt John’s hand leave his own, the sensation strange as he didn’t even realise it felt that natural. He cleared his throat before blushing slightly as stepped out the cab. This time he paid before he frowned at the handle and he immediately put it back to the /correct/ position.
“For gods sake! Is everyone going to ruin our time together today?!” Sherlock snapped up the stairs, truthful words he wouldn’t normally say leaving his lips as he stomped to the living room, noticing Mycroft sat in Sherlock’s chair and Greg sat in John’s.
“Do you both mind?” He snapped, eyes locked on his brother.

“Sorry, Sherlock, John did say to make yourself at home..” Greg blushed a little.
Mycroft too locked eyes with his brother, rather irritated his conversation with the inspector had been walled in on. Rising to his feet as he kept his back straight,
"It's alright, Gregory." The elder Holmes spoke, "What's put you in a foul mood, brother mine?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother beginning to deduce it but stopped suddenly when John had arrived, now standing beside Sherlock.

"Sorry, I just had to help Mrs Hud-" the blogger was about apologize when he noticed the official and the yarder, "is there something I've missed?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Greg sat there innocently as he gazed at the exchanges between the three of them, almost feeling like he didn’t belong there.

Sherlock however noticed Mycroft deduce him as to why he was moody, seeing his elder brothers eyes narrow and he narrowed his own eyes and furrowed his brown in anger and irritation. Instead of answering he stormed to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him as he knew Mycroft knew and Sherlock couldn’t deal with the fact that Mycroft knew he loved John.