A Photo Of John

Chapter 21

When John awoke from bed, he realized Sherlock wasn't sleeping next to him.

He stretched and stood up, cracking his neck.

As he opened the door, he saw Sherlock sitting in his chair, hands tucked under his chin.

His head jerked up, looking at John.

" I've been thinking. We simply cannot let this happen."

He stood and walked over to John, grabbing his arms.

" Revenge! Revenge, my dear doctor!"

" What are you on about?"

He triumphantly spun and sprawled onto the couch.

" Anderson ruined Molly Hooper's funeral, and is currently ruining our career. He must pay. We need pressure points..."

John sat in his chair.

" I know! You've mentioned his..."encounters"... with Sally. He has a wife, we would be doing her a deed. I don't know, it's just an idea."

Sherlock was silent for a few moments.

" Brilliant John!"

John grinned.

" You don't think it's too much?"

" For Anderson? Never. I suggest we create a plan."

They talked for hours, suggesting theories and making maps. It had to be clever. Elaborate. He had to know it was their doing without any proof.

* The next day *

Phillip Anderson was leaving work a bit late, he had just " discussed possible suspects " which meant fooling around with Sally.

She just gave him the buzz his own wife couldn't.

As he was walking towards his car, he noticed two figures nearby.

They became clearer as he grew closer and he realized it was Sherlock and John.

Making out.

Disgusting.

He unconsciously wiped his mouth before he yelled:

" Hey lovebirds! Get a room!"

They stopped and started walking towards him.

John said:

" You know Anderson? I'm tired of your shit. It's a free country and practically everyone knows we're together. The only one in the dark is your wife."

" What are you saying?"

" I think you know exactly what I'm saying. Oh, and by the way, thanks for notifying the papers about Sherlock. That was quite mature, especially for your age."

Anderson sneered.

" Anytime."

During this conversation, Sherlock was lingering close to Anderson.

John gave a small nod, there was a streak of red, and they were off.

Phillip muttered " Jesus " under his breath as he got in the car and pulled out.

The two partners walked away and whispered to each other.

" I saw the lipstick on his mouth, the sleeve trick must have worked. Do you think he'll wipe it off?"

Sherlock looked off for a bit.

" I doubt it. After the spectacle he had just seen and the fact that he was late would cause him to not think about it."

About 10 minutes later, he pulled up to his house and his wife was waiting for him by the front door hallway.

" Hi lovely"

He murmured, smiling weakly at her.

" How was your-"

Her speech cut off and she stared at his mouth.

" Is that- is that lipstick?"

Before he could say anything she wiped it off and stared at her finger.

" And what the hell is in your pocket?"

She pulled it out, it was a pair of red lace panties.

Her face grew red and hot.

" YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WHOSE THE FUCK ARE THESE?"

She stormed upstairs and came right back down with a armful of his dirty clothes.

" You know what, I don't even care. I've suspected this for a long time."

" Emily! No it's not what you think!"

" Well what is it then? You just happened to have red underwear in your pocket and a lipstick smear on the side of you're face, right?"

" Emily please! I love you!"

She pushed him out the door, so he fell on his face on the pavement.

" Fuck. Off."

His face was dripping blood, onto the sidewalk.

" Em-"

" Don't ever think of coming back you son of a bitch."

She slammed the door so hard, the entire house shook.

He picked himself up and got into his car. Started the engine, and drove away.

Emily Anderson slumped down onto the couch and started crying.

From crying came sobbing.

She sobbed the entire night until she passed out onto their...wait...her sofa.