You and Sherlock

Always in Pairs

The walk back to 221B was quiet. Sherlock was focused -- in his own head. He walked briskly, with his collar turned up in typical fashion. Privately, you wondered why you hadn't just called a cab, because the walk back was certainly not short and the weather was bordering on unpleasantly cold. But Sherlock carried on, and John pattered behind him so confidently, so you followed. 

When you finally arrived back at 221B, you split and went into your own flat to settle in and warm up. Sherlock had gone up the stairs without so much as a glance in your direction. That wasn't unusual; Sherlock's game was on, and he'd be too busy figuring out the symbols to do anything but that.  Glancing at the clock on your wall, you realized it was only eight. This night's adventure's end was significantly earlier than usual, leaving you ample time to finally clean up your flat a bit, and take a nice, hot, everything shower. 

An hour later, with a pristine kitchen and freshly washed hair, you felt like a new woman. Certainly a clean one, who had her life together. Another twenty minutes, and you'd actually had a proper supper. Another ten, and your clothing was laid out for tomorrow. And you officially had nothing else to do but go to bed. You figured it wouldn't hurt to check in on Sherlock before the night's end -- and, if you had to admit it -- you were a little curious. Gently shutting your door behind you, you ventured up the stairs. With any luck, Sherlock would be so engrossed in trying to solve this, that he wouldn't be crashing above you at all ends of the night and you'd get a decent night's sleep. 

Which is what John looked like he desperately needed when you walked in. The room was awash in typical chaos. John's photograph had been printed out -- blown up into a bunch of small sections and tacked onto the mirror. Next to each photograph was a hastily scribbled numerical value, corresponding to the symbol. Sherlock stood at the fireplace, his back to you. 

He didn't turn at the sound of your entry, but John waved. John had been lounging at the dining table, his back to Sherlock and eyes drooping. At the sound of your footsteps, he picked his head up from his hands and waved, before immediately dropping his head back down. You moved to just behind Sherlock to look more closely at the photos and wondered what the detective was thinking. 

After another five minutes of silence, you had your answer.

"Always in pairs, John," 

John, who had most certainly managed to fall asleep, shot up at Sherlock's voice and turned around to face him, squinting. 

"Huh?"

"Numbers come with partners," Sherlock sounded impatient, but he still hadn't looked away from the numbers.

"God, I need to sleep," John muttered and you smiled sympathetically, sitting down beside him.

"I know the feeling," you murmured, poking him with an elbow. He grinned a bleary smile back. 

"Want some tea?" you offered, and John shook his head, yawning. 

At the fireplace, Sherlock shifted back on his foot and frowned. "But why did he paint it so near the tracks?"

"No idea," John replied to the rhetorical question around another yawn. 

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"I'm okay. Best not, since it's late enough," John replied, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself up a bit.

Sherlock shook his head at the mirror. He shifted again. He'd caught something in his mind. You knew him well enough now. Well enough to know when he shifted his weight, and his left foot tapped -- even from the back, you knew. Sherlock was gnawing on something. The game was afoot. 

"Thousands of people pass by there every day," he muttered. And then the tapping stopped. And he turned, flashing you a triumphant smile. "Of course. Of course! He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. Don't you see, Y/N?"

You shook your head and he gestured for you to come join him. At the fireplace, he grabbed your hand and pressed your fingers against some of the symbols.

"Somewhere, in this code, there's information," his eyes gleamed with the sort of manic joy that sent hairs raising on your neck as he stared down at you.

"And how do you get it?" you asked. Sherlcok shook his head impatiently, dark curls bouncing. 

"That's the question, isn't it?" That same mania in his eyes bled into his voice as he stood beside you, the air from his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. And then he was pushing your hand aside and tearing photos off the mirror. 

"We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao," Sherlock declared, spinning away and grabbing his coat.

"Oh good," John groaned and stood to follow, looking for all the world like he'd rather be shriveled up in bed somewhere.

"Are you coming?" John looked at you and you shook your head, glancing around the chaotic apartment.

"No, unlike you two, I actually have a job that I need to go to in the morning," you laughed. "And besides, I could use the sleep," 

Sherlock was rushing down the stairs and off to his next stop and John nodded. 

"Well, erm, good night then,"  he waved before turning and pushing out the doorway.  

"You too," you yelled after him. You heard the door slam and went to go back to your own flat after a moment. Sherlock would find Soo Lin, you were sure of that. You hoped that he wouldn't be stupid and terrify her, but you figured he probably would. 

And then you'd hear about it in the morning. Perhaps later than that, you figured, if you'd already left for work by the time Sherlock and John returned home. You might even get a whole day of productive work in with Molly. If the game was good enough, Sherlock would be engaged, and now that he had John -- well he certainly didn't need you.

You couldn't quite figure out why that thought left a lump in your chest as you settled in for bed. 

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A/N: Surprise, merry christmas, all the things! figured i'd take a break from writing my original storeis bc of writer's bloock and do something still creative with this. hope you enjoy!