Grind Me Down (Johnlock)

Chapter 13

Loud knocking on the door woke them up, and John gave Sherlock a questioning look.

"I'll answer it. You can go upstairs and get some clothes on." Sherlock smirked, watching as John sprang out of bed starkers and gathered up his dirty clothes from the floor.

Pulling on his robe, he stumbled to the door, peering through the peephole before opening it. "What are you doing here, Gavin?"

Rolling his eyes, the DI walked in, scanning Sherlock up and down critically. "Geez, look at you! You seem like you've been through a lot."

His dark eyes roamed over Sherlock's messy hair, unshaven face, the marks and bruises on his skin. His gaze sharpened when he spotted a red mark on his neck that seemed a little out of place.

Sherlock turned away abruptly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to come by uninvited?" He strolled into the kitchen and started making tea. His stomach was rumbling, so he put some bread in the toaster as well.

Lestrade wasn't put off by Sherlock's dismissive tone, following him to lean against the doorway. "You vanish for a few days without a trace, sending everyone into a panic. John kept calling me, and we even put out a missing persons report on you. Where were you?"

John appeared, his hair messy as well, but wearing jeans and a thick jumper. Lestrade looked him over carefully, his eyes zooming in on a red mark on his neck, and he smirked.

"Yeah, Sherlock, I'd like to hear your story as well." John got some plates out and buttered the toast. He gave Lestrade an inquiring look, and the DI shook his head.

Carrying the plates out to the living room, he set them on the coffee table. Sherlock brought out a tray of tea, and settled on the other end of the sofa. Lestrade sat in an armchair, sipping his tea.

Sherlock took a few bites of toast, before glancing at his waiting audience. "I went to Cornwall."

John lowered his brows in disbelief. "That's five hours away! You didn't think of mentioning that to anyone?"

Shrugging, Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "It just made sense after we searched their house."

Lestrade sighed impatiently. "My team searched the house. You showed up and pushed your way in." He leveled an unimpressed look his way. "We found the jugs of water. Why did you link the case to Cornwall?"

Sherlock scrolled through his mobile, and turned it around to show them a picture of an envelope. "I saw this on their desk. A letter to the husband, with a return address from there."

"So?" John finished off his toast and set the plate on the coffee table.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock's expression switched to his intellectual snob one. "Historically, about half the world's arsenic was mined from there. Private wells in the region often test at unsafe levels."

Lestrade leaned forward. "So, you thought the husband had an accomplice there supplying the water, and you wanted to get a sample."

John glanced down at the red marks on Sherlock's wrist. "But you were caught in the act and tied up. How did you get back here?"

Looking down, Sherlock seemed to lose his cockiness over his deductions, and was embarrassed over what had happened. "I was locked in a shed. I couldn't get the bonds off, so I crawled across the floor and was able to kick the door open. I made it over to some bushes and hid for the night from my captor. Luckily, it was raining and my tracks were washed away."

"No wonder you were so muddy and covered in leaves." John grumbled.

"The next day, I found a piece of broken glass and was able to cut my bonds with it." Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "I was cold, hungry and my phone was dead. I just headed south, hoping I'd find a town to call for help."