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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
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 2
- 3
- 4
Hello! I’ve written 2 chapters and not said a word. This is one of the first things I’ve written that I am letting people see. I’m sticking disgustingly close to the plot right now just cuz it’s helping me start. I’ve had writers block forever!!! And it’s nice to finally just be doing something. Reviews are welcomed, criticism as well. I also like requests for later scenes. The chapters will get longer soon and I plan on getting a bit dark later on. So yeah. I hope u all like it so far. J B_C

3
       “Don’t worry about me I can manage,” Sherlock couldn’t help but grin as Watson struggled up the stairs with three or four bags of groceries. The smile, however, quickly fell from his expression as he read the email he had just opened. Anyone who addressed him as ‘buddy’ put themselves in a dreadful place with Sherlock. The remainder of the email may as well just kick him in his bruised chest. He deplored business men.
       “Is that my computer?”
“Yes of course. Mine was in the bedroom.”
“And you couldn’t be bothered to get up?” Watson strode towards Sherlock and gave him that disbelieving and slightly offended look the detective was so used to seeing in his career. “It’s password protected!”
“Yes in a manner of speaking. Took me less than a second to guess yours-
“Yes Thank you,” Watson slapped shut the device and took it across the room where he could guard it with more than a password. He felt flustered, an emotion which only increased when he sat down to look at the bills strewn on the end table beside the arm chair. He picked them up, a slight nausea rising in his stomach when he realized he was still flat broke and his share of the bills were more than a little bit overdue. “I need to get a job.”
The statement made the actuality of it so much clearer. Watson had been unemployed since he returned from Afghanistan and his army pension was all he dreamed it would be, bleedin’ little. Maybe if he managed to live on nicotine patches and scraps of pasta his money would have lasted a few more weeks, but unlike Sherlock he needed a solid two meals a day. Looking up, Watson, for the first time, noticed just how thin the young detective was. It was easy to miss since so often he hid under that massive overcoat and scarves. But looking at him now, in those tiny dress shirts, Watson wondered if he was even healthy. And this was exactly why he needed a job. If Watson had to spend another day just sitting watching Sherlock sitting he didn’t know what he would do.
“Dull.”
“Sorry?”
“Job’s. They’re Dull” Sherlock didn’t even move as he spoke. He just sat there with his chin resting on his hands as the sirens blared through the streets outside. “I have to go to the bank.” And then like a bolt of lightning the detective was up, throwing on his coat and dashing down to the streets of London.
       Watson sighed and slumped further into his chair. There were some things John just could not figure out about Sherlock Holmes. So sedentary and then, out of nowhere, jolting to life like a robot that had just finished charging its batteries. But then there were times when he was so typically human. The jealous look he had given Mycroft after solving the pink lady case, and the way he had smiled when Watson called him brilliant, or an idiot were all moments where John had seen through the outer barricade of Sherlock Holmes. There was a man inside that shell, there had to be. Watson wouldn’t have stuck around if he thought other wise.
       “Sherlock!” he called out as he grabbed his coat off of the kitchen table. Knowing the younger man he was halfway down the road already. “Wait a bloody minute!”
~
       Sherlock hadn’t said a word the entire trip into the city, and the bank turned out to be an enormous office building.
       “So when you said the bank…” Sherlock didn’t fill in the blank for him and instead just stepped on the escalator leaving Watson, as usual, in the dark as to what was going on. The doctor did, however, notice something was going on. Those blue-gray eyes had a fixed look about them. They were focused, observing, and almost cold. It was the look Sherlock had possessed when he had been examining the pink lady. His pupils were tiny, contracted as if all the information pouring into him was a bright, bright light no one but the darkly clad man could see. It blinded him to but itself, which was all Sherlock ever seemed to want to see.
       The doctor felt his pulse increase as they stepped off the escalator and Sherlock announced himself to the receptionist. It was true that the detective became cold in his hunts for the unobvious, but for Watson this coldness meant another adventure and more danger. Mycroft had been right in stating he longed for the battlefield, the doctor longed for the dangerous lifestyle he’d lead before the bullet sent him back home. War had been exciting, hazardous; it made the man feel as if he were doing something with himself and his life. Being back in London, living mundane every day life was so dull compared to survival in Afghanistan. He was no hero here, just a man. But Sherlock… Sherlock had abilities that hero’s had. Sherlock fought a different kind of war, on a secret battle ground only a trained eye could see. Watson wanted to see that world; he wanted to fight that battle.
       “Sherlock Holmes,”
       “Sebastian,” The two men clapped hands and Watson felt his face twist in confusion. This man did not seem like the type of person Sherlock would be all too friendly with. Granted, no person seemed to be that type, but his man seemed especially not. From what Watson had heard his flat-mate say in the past, he did not care for business types. The working world bored him tremendously and he didn’t have much, if any, respect for those who worked for no reason other than earning a living.   This man, Sebastian, seemed to be one of those people.
       “This is my friend,” the detective had to pause to breathe “John Watson.”
       “Friend?!” the business man was genuinely baffled. His eyes sparkled a moment and he turned to look at Watson in the same way most people were looking at him since he and Sherlock had moved in with one another. Watson knew that look, and before any comments could be made about the nature of their relationship, Watson quickly interjected
       “Colleague,” and shook the man’s hand. He didn’t notice the hurt expression that flashed across Sherlock’s pale face, and it was gone before he could look at his ‘colleague’ a second time. Sebastian looked between the two once more and Watson soon realized he hadn’t stopped any sort of thoughts from running through that man’s mind.
       Did they really look that much like a couple?! Watson could see Sherlock getting mistaken for being a batty boy, he was so stupidly thin and pretty, and the long hair didn’t help much either… but Watson?! Even Sherlock had stated he looked like a military man, and a conservative one at that, so why was everyone mistaking them for a couple?
       Following the two men into Sebastian’s office Watson took a seat next to Sherlock and glanced at him wondering if the detective was getting as tired of the false assumptions as Watson himself was. No doubt Sherlock had noticed. Noticing things was what the younger man did. Sherlock’s face was impassive.
       “So you’re looking well. Flying halfway around the world twice in a month.” Sebastian just laughed,
       “Oh right. You’re doing that thing.” He turned to Watson “We were at Uni together and this guy here had a trick he used to do
       “It’s not a trick,” Sherlock integrated irritably. Sebastian just went on talking
       “He can look at you and tell you you’re life story. We’d all be at breakfast and this freak would know you’d been shagging the previous night.” That time Watson did notice Sherlock flinch
       “Yes I’ve seen him do it.” Watson commented “It’s f-
       “I simply observe.” Sherlock ground out the words as he shifted forward in his chair. His eyes looked wicked and defensive in more ways than one.
       “Oh yes go on, enlighten me how you know I was around the country.” The man continued to laugh in a condescending matter looking over at Watson for support. Nervously, Watson smiled, but it was more due to his sheer disbelief that Sebastian could be such an utter ass to a man sitting right in front of him. “What was it the mud on my shoes?” He laughed “Or perhaps a specific kind of ketchup that one can only obtain-
       “Actually,” Sherlock finally spoke up which honestly made Watson breath a sigh of relief. He had been watching Sherlock shrink under the scrutiny of the businessman and, quite frankly, he was about to stand up and take care of the suit with a good old fashioned punch to the jaw. But now Sherlock was back and undoubtedly had some embarrassing truth that he could reveal about the man just to shut his mouth. “I was just chatting with your secretary. She told me.”
       Watson felt something drop inside of him. What?!
       “Oh I see.” Sebastian just stopped for a moment and reclined back in his chair. Then out of nowhere he released a hearty laugh. “Well, I’m glad you could make it over. We’ve had a break in.”
~
       “Why didn’t you tell him off?” Watson had been quiet up until that moment. Honestly watching Sherlock move around the office searching for some unseen truth had distracted him slightly. He’d been so preoccupied he had almost allowed the detective to deny a rather nice looking check. Sebastian may have been an arrogant bastard but he certainly paid well.
       “What and give the two of you more to laugh at?” Watson’s face contorted with confusion
       “I wasn’t
       “If I had told him how I actually knew it would have been exactly what he wanted to hear. Just me, playing a trick. No, I figured giving him a normal answer was the fastest way to shut his mouth.” Blue eyes glared at Watson for a moment as if to say ‘and yours’.
       “So you did it just to irritate him?” The doctor laughed in a genuine, relieved sort of way. His face and pleased brown eyes told Sherlock all he needed to know, John hadn’t been laughing at him, he was still on, his side. “That’s bloody brilliant! So how did you know?” Sherlock turned his face away lest John see him grinning like a praised child.
       “His watch,” and Sherlock continued to explain as he began to follow the trail the clues had laid for him. It was time to find Van Coon.

Thanks 4 reading!!! <3
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Comfort