A Study in Miscommunication

Chapter 15

—-John's POV—-

"I..." Couldn't believe it. "Thank you. Thank you." I said, speaking first to Angelo then to Sherlock.

Sherlock was still there against the wall when the landlady came out. "Sherlock, what've you done?" She sobbed.

"Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock rumbled in his deep baritone, obviously concerned.

"Upstairs." She gestured.

Sherlock looked at me and I stared back. He was worried, there was something wrong. I would follow and help as best I could.

Sherlock climbed the stairs lithely and I tried to not ogle his arse while keeping the crutch at my side as a weapon instead of pulling my very illegal gun. Sherlock threw the door opened and entered.

The man from before was there, sitting in Sherlock's chair like he owned the place.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded while looming over the man.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." The DI responded.

I tried to calm myself down. There were a lot of officers in the room wearing stab vests labelled POLICE. I was at a bit of a loss. They were combing through Sherlock's stuff and I wanted them gone.

"You can't just break into my flat!" Sherlock snapped.

Yeah!

"And you can't withhold evidence." The DI countered.

That's fair.

"And I didn't break into your flat." He continued.

"Well, what do you call this then?" Sherlock said loudly, gesturing about the room.

"It's a drugs bust." The DI said tightly.

"Seriously?!" I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "This guy?" This was absurd! I couldn't let it continue. They were obviously just picking on the man who helped them because he couldn't (wouldn't?) follow procedure. "A junkie? Have you met him?!" Cruel. They were bullies!

Sherlock came close, too close. God the cologne he wore! "John." He warned.

But I couldn't let this stand. "I'm pretty sure you can search this flat all day and not find anything you'd call recreational." The DI was sitting there with a nearly smug smile on his face and I needed to wipe it off.

"John, you probably want to shut up now!" Sherlock hissed in my ear.

"Yeah, but c'mon!" I didn't like bullies. I was on his side, he didn't have to worry about them pushing him around anymore.

Sherlock's cheek twitched as he ground his teeth.

It made me look at his mouth. His gorgeous mouth. "No." I denied, shelving all thoughts about those lips since he'd turned me down at dinner, but there was no misunderstanding the look in his eyes. It took me far longer than it should've to believe him.

"What?"

"You?" I really couldn't believe it. He didn't have any of the signs.

"Shut up." Sherlock snarled before turning to the DI, "I'm not your sniffer dog."

Whatever that meant. I didn't have time to ponder it because DI Lestrade responded with, "No, Anderson's my sniffer dog."

That slimy worm from the crime scene gave us a wave as Sherlock sputtered before asking, "Anderson? What are you doing here on a drugs bust?"

As the scene continued I could feel my heart become heavy. Sherlock had a problem with drugs. Well, that explained why he wasn't a detective. Lestrade was saying that everyone in the room was keen to be here. They were still bullies!