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Comfort	By : KymLyn8ee Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 1995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or its characters and i make no moneys from this.. I just think they are pretty.

Chapter List
- 1-Comfort
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Slowly moving forward.........

As soon as Watson had left Sherlock looked up. Setting the book down he pulled the blade of the sword he had been hiding under the chair out into the open. He winced slightly, the injuries he had received brawling with that diamond thief hadn’t been anything to scoff at. His chest was throbbing something awful; no doubt he had a few bruises or worse. To be quite frank it had been difficult to sit upright and breathe normally, but he saw how panicked John had gotten over his nicotine habit. If the doctor had noticed any sort of injury he probably would have fallen into one of those emotional worrying fits. Not that they weren’t utterly charming, but it wasn’t as if the war vet needed any more injuries to fuss over. Besides, Sherlock was fine. Or he would be when the swelling went down in a few hours.
The body of the man was blissfully silent behind the sofa. Unconscious of course. Lestrade would be there any moment to tote the criminal off, probably with some baffled look on his face as to how Sherlock had solved this case so quickly. Idiots, the whole lot of Scotland Yard. How they couldn’t follow painfully obvious clues was just beyond Sherlock’s comprehension. It really must be so relaxing to be so gropingly stupid.
Lifting the sword off the ground caused Sherlock a brief moment of pain, but it was one he ignored as he began examining the workmanship and wear of the blade. This was an old weapon, hand carved with a great deal of care. Had Sherlock been a man interested in money he would have been swooning over the value of such a work of art. Maybe he should keep it, for John’s sake. The doctor had been ridiculously wound up lately, if they were any harder up Watson would no doubt be getting into rows with the microwave between meals.
“Sherlock dear,” Mrs. Hudson tapped on the wall and he jerked around, too fast, to see what she wanted. “Some friends of yours from the Yard are here.”
“Yes that’s all right and good,” he turned his face away from her to grit his teeth, “send the half wits up.”
“Alright Deary. I certainly hope this isn’t another drug search though. That was absolutely dreadful.” She continued to mutter to herself as she hobbled down the stairs.
In the several minutes he had before Lestrade came up, Sherlock took the blade and set it out of sight. To him it was obvious that there had been a weapon used but sadly he knew not another soul would be able to recognize such a thing. He’d keep the sword, sell it on the internet or something, maybe make Molly do it for him since he wouldn’t be bothered to do it himself. Then John could be set at ease with a few more funds in the bank.
“Alright where is he?” Lestrade asked the moment he entered their flat. He had that look of nervousness on his face, the nervous disbelief a man stressed out from work always has. Sherlock suspected some trouble at home as well judging by the slight limp in the man’s walk and the dark circles under his eyes. Probably banished to the sofa by his wife.
“Behind the sofa,” Sherlock commented. He moved slightly to the side so Lestrade could pass followed by Sergeant Sally Donovan who gave him a murderous look.
“Hello Freak,”
“Sally,” He managed a grimace as she sashayed past him. Obviously she still wasn’t over that rejection he gave her six months ago. He could never understand women. People in general really.
“Jesus did you kill him?!” the woman exclaimed looking down at the body and then accusingly back at Sherlock. Lestrade’s mouth fell open, and he closed it once more. He places his hands on his hips and looked up at Sherlock. The man being questioned blinked, wondering for a moment if they were actually serious before remembering who they were.
“No, I didn’t kill him.” He replied flatly. He crossing his arms and for a moment he looked like a rooster whose pride had been ruffled too far. “The signs of life are obvious if you’d just look,” Sherlock turned away and began to pace the room. He was very unhappy these two were staying longer than necessary. Lestrade he didn’t mind as much, but Sally, good lord! It was like being in a room with personified arsenic. The only person more bothersome was Anderson, and it didn’t help that he could smell his cologne on the woman. It was vile and he could feel his brain growing sluggish at the mere thought of that primate.
Lestrade bent down, took a pulse and stood back up in a moment.
“Yeah he’s breathing.” Sally looked disappointed. “Lets get a stretcher up here.”
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