Like Wire (A BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

[five]

Sherlock and John clambered out of the taxi, John repeatedly thanking the driver and Sherlock silently handing over the money. They were outside a hospital, a very stereotypical one with old bricks and the insides startling white. 

Warily, John followed Sherlock, trooping behind the tall boy in both apprehension and curiosity. They looked an atypical and uncanny pair: Sherlock, the tall, dark and mysterious stranger in a long black coat with the collar brushing against his sharp cheekbones and then John, a small, ordinary and freckled boy, the kind that seems to get good grades and tries to avoid change to keep his life predictable. 

John was inquisitive at to why he was here, as to why he had followed Sherlock into a bloody hospital where he was, supposedly, about to gaze upon some corpses. He didn't even know Sherlock, not really, all he knew was that Sherlock was his roommate, brother of Mycroft (head boy), supposedly a psychopath - or sociopath - that murdered his last roommate. He was a bit weird. John didn't want to be rude but he was secretly a bit overawed by Sherlock: everything about him was daunting, from his perfect posture to his disregard for a styled hair. 

Not that John didn't like Sherlock's hair.

Wait, no. Not that John did  like Sherlock's hair.

Wait.

No, John didn't mind Sherlock's hair. It was just hair. 

 Puzzled by Johns own internal conversation, he shook his head to try and focus his thoughts on what was important - not Sherlock's hair. 

The lift jolted unstably as it shuddered upwards, clambering its way towards what was labelled as 'the lab'. The lift doors were automatically prized open upon their arrival and Sherlock took a large, sophisticated step forward, shadowed by a scuttling John. 

"Oh! Oh - Sherlock," someone stammered, obviously unaware of Sherlocks decision to visit.

"Molly, hey," Sherlock smiled warmly.

"Whose that?" Molly quizzed at the sight of John who waved his hand at her.

"John, he's my... he's with me... like..." Sherlock trailed off, unsure what to class John as, "he's just a guy at my school - you know? A peer,"

"You're gay?" Molly blurted out to Sherlock before clamping her hand over her mouth in pure shock, "Oh God, sorry, sorry, I meant... I mean.... Are you two, a thing?"

Sherlock didn't respond, he formally floated around the lab, absorbing all the details of the room, John took this moment to blush scarlet and reply to Molly.

"No, oh no, I'm not gay - we're not a thing," he giggled awkwardly, "I'm just in some of Sherlock's classes,"

"Sherlock doesn't take interest in people, he doesn't just bring over a guy from his class," Molly murmured as she bumbled clumsily around her workplace. "I'm Molly Hooper, by the way," she introduced to John prior to spinning around and addressing Sherlock, "What do you need? I know you dont just pop in for a friendly visit,"

"How observant of you," Sherlock chortled, causing Molly to smile but look down - almost disappointed - at her pile of scattered paperwork, "I need to see Delilah White,"

Molly froze, nibbling nervously upon her lightly painted lips, aware of her conscience. She laced a lock of her soft blonde hair around her finger and straightened up some of the files with her spare hand.

"Sherlock..." she breathed, "You know I can't show a teenager a corpse - I'm not even meant to go in unsupervised, I'm lucky to have got this work experience," 

Sherlock sighed acceptingly, before adding "Have you got new makeup? I think it... suits you,"

Manipulation in its kindest form.

But to John it didn't seem kind at all.

Sociopath, yeah, John could see that now. In fact that was all he could see, a silhouette of Sherlock and the words 'sociopath' written in blood red ink - or maybe just blood.