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John stared up at the numbers above the front door. 221B. The B was half the size of the numbers, which only highlighted how odd it was to have the letter there in the first place. Mike told him that there were several flats in 221, one of them belonging to the landlady, and one of them vacant. Flat B was occupied by Sherlock Holmes, the man he was coming here to meet to see if they could live together.
John felt the urge to head back to the tube station and back to his bedsit. There is no way that Holmes would want him for a flatmate. A broken down ex-Army doctor too filled with self-doubt to even do locum work. Mike tried to assure him that Holmes had similar concerns about his own suitability as a flatmate. Mike smilingly referred to Sherlock as an odd duck, and warned John that he could be off-putting to most people. John could well believe the odd duck part. He’d found his website – The Science of Deduction. That had been a…um…interesting read.
But beggars can’t be choosers, as long as Holmes wasn’t some sort of homicidal maniac, and his flat wasn’t a scuzz dump. The location was rather nice, especially the proximity to Regent’s Park. Also, a part of John hoped that he’d be less likely to blow his brains out if he had to worry about a flatmate finding his remains.
He shook his head of such morbid thoughts and rapped the knocker three times. After a few moments, the door opened and an older lady appeared, beaming at him. “Are you John Watson?”
He gave her a polite smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
She waved him inside. “I’m Mrs. Hudson, the landlady. Do come in.”
He climbed up the steps, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked around the front hall. “This looks nice. I admit I’m a little skeptical I’ll be able to afford a flat share in this neighborhood.”
Mrs. Hudson waved her hand at him. “Oh don’t worry about that. I’m giving Sherlock a special deal on the flat. I owe him so much. He helped me out when my husband was sentenced to death in Florida.”
John raised his eyebrows in amazement. “He stopped your husband being executed?”
She beamed at him. “Oh no, he ensured it. Now do come up. Sherlock’s waiting for you.”
She started up the stairs and John winced a little. Too bad the flat wasn’t on the main level. Resignedly, he followed up after her.
She knocked briefly on the door and then opened it. “Hoo hoo! Sherlock, your Mr. Watson has arrived!”
John perused the room, which was cluttered, but not filthy. His attention was caught briefly by the sight of a skull on the mantle, but he turned as Mrs. Hudson approached a man who was at the window, staring down at the street. A deep-timbered voice said drolly, “Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I was able to deduce that myself.” He turned to face them. “And it’s Doctor Watson, I believe.”
John’s eyes widened slightly. Christ almighty. Mike had failed to mention that Holmes was bloody gorgeous. Then again, Mike was straight. He wouldn’t have paid attention to the dark, lush curls framing Sherlock’s face. Or cared that those cheekbones were sharp enough to lacerate. Or taken notice of the lush lips, bloody hell. John lifted his gaze to Sherlock’s eyes in an attempt to get himself together. He reflexively licked his own lips, which caught the attention of the other man. John couldn’t be sure, but it looked like his flawless pale skin turned the slightest bit pink.
Holmes stepped forward and held out his hand. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. A pleasure to meet you.” John suppressed a giggle. Did he fancy himself James Bond? Well, he certainly looked the part. His suit was impeccably tailored. The shirt, especially, seemed to fit like a glove. In fact, whenever Holmes inhaled, the buttons…
John cleared his throat and shook Sherlock’s hand. “John Watson, and the pleasure’s all mine.” He couldn’t help the sultry note that emphasised the last bit. Sherlock blinked several times, and there was definitely a tinge of pink now.
“Oh!” Mrs. Hudson put her hand on her chest. “You two didn’t already know each other? Well, I guess that answers my question of whether you’ll be needing the second bedroom.”
John reluctantly let go of Sherlock’s hand. “I’m sorry, what?”
She fluttered her hand between them. “Well, I wasn’t sure if he was finally bringing a young man home.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have minded, of course. Mrs. Turner has married ones.” She winked. Sherlock turned even more pink, but didn’t say anything. A straight man would have corrected her, so that means gay. Or at least bi.
John smiled wickedly. “Since we’ve only just met, I think two bedrooms. For now.” Mrs. Hudson tittered and he laughed along with her. Sherlock just blinked again and went pinker.
There was a noise that John recognised as a text alert. Sherlock fished a mobile out of his pocket and scowled at it. The scowl disappeared as he read whatever the text said, and his eyes lit up. John was close enough now to see that they were an odd shade of green…or light blue. Was everything about the man enchanting?
Those gorgeous lips widened into a smile as Sherlock texted a reply. He sighed in satisfaction as he slipped the mobile back into his pocket. “Mrs Hudson, I’ll be late. Might need some food.”
He turned towards the door as Mrs. Hudson snorted and replied, “I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper!”
John frowned. He wasn’t actually leaving, was he? They hadn’t concluded their business. Sherlock abruptly turned back and looked John up and down, his gaze assessing. John automatically went ramrod straight. Sherlock’s stunning eyes locked with his. “So, any plans tonight?”
The rich timbre of Sherlock’s voice sent a shiver down his spine. To cover his reaction, John smartly pulled up the zipper on his jacket. “Er, nothing fixed. Nothing I couldn’t heartlessly abandon.” He raised an eyebrow as he watched Sherlock’s cheeks grow even more flushed. “You have any ideas?”
The smile Sherlock bestowed on him was decidedly wicked. “One.”
*
As Sherlock led him into a small, intimate restaurant called Angelo’s, John had to chuckle to himself. When they first left Baker street that day, this was the sort of thing that John thought Sherlock had in mind. Not investigating a murder. In retrospect, John couldn’t complain. It had been rather fascinating as John got to watch Sherlock apply the principles outlined on his website first hand. He’d also enjoyed watching Sherlock get pinker and pinker as John complimented his deductions. Clearly the young man had a praise kink, and John was more than happy to oblige.
The owner came to their table and proceeded to gush about Sherlock helping him get off a murder charge. Sherlock smirked as Angelo carried on, but John noticed his cheeks remained perfectly pale. Interesting. He apparently didn’t blush at just anyone’s praise. Angelo said he would fetch a candle for the table to make it more romantic. John smiled warmly at Sherlock and…oh, there was the slight blush again. Very interesting.
Sherlock trained his eyes on the building across the street, because ostensibly they were here to catch a murderer. John attempted to make small talk with him, asking him questions about himself. Sherlock gave him a bewildered look and John laughed. “Just trying to get to know my potential flatmate. Get an idea of what your life is like beyond this…stuff.” He waved his hand to indicate the building that Sherlock was staking out. “Come on, give me something. Do you have family? A boyfriend?”
Sherlock scrunched his nose. “Family…yes. Boyfriend...no.” His cheeks pinkened a little.
John rested his arms on the table, leaning forward. “So, you’re unattached. Like me. Good.” He smiled brightly.
The blush darkened and Sherlock turned back to look across the street. He pursed his lips and his brow furrowed. He took a deep breath. “John, um ... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work. While I’m flattered by your interest, I’m really not looking for any…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.
John forced away his disappointment. The battle was lost, but not the war. He raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Is that the only reason you’re turning me down?”
He watched as Sherlock’s eyes flicked to his lips, and his eyes widened, skin once again flushing pink. “I…I…”
John chuckled and decided to put him out of his misery. “It’s all fine, Sherlock. I wouldn’t want to get between you and The Work.” The detective seemed to relax. He gave Sherlock a warm little smile. “Of course, married people have been known to have affairs.” John delighted at the dark shade of pink as Sherlock looked too flustered to reply. He was saved from having to do so by the arrival of their meal.
John didn’t have much time to savour his food before the apparent murderer finally made an appearance and they were dashing off down the streets of London, leaving his cane far behind.
*
John observed from a distance as Sherlock sat perched on the back of the ambulance, a shock blanket draped over him, talking to Detective Inspector Lestrade. He could tell Sherlock was in deduction mode as he spoke rapidly, his eyes flitting about. They rested on John and he paused mid-sentence, his gaze sharp and assessing. Ah, so he’s figured it out. John wasn’t surprised.
He glanced away in an attempt at nonchalance. When he looked back, he saw Sherlock throw off the blanket, as well as Lestrade’s attempts at continuing their discussion. He made straight for John, his expression intent. John felt a little thrill at being the focus of such an amazing man.
When Sherlock finally came to a stop, he was standing a little too close to John. His gaze was still intent. One might say…rapt. John was about to stammer out something about Sergeant Donovan filling him in on what happened, but Sherlock spoke first. “You just killed a man for me.” His tone was low, slightly breathless.
John cleared his throat and looked away. “Um…yes, well. I couldn’t let you risk your life to prove you’re clever. I already know you are. Idiot.”
Sherlock’s cheeks turned pink as he fought a smile. “John, um…you remember what I said at Angelo’s about being married to my work?”
John felt a little thrill in his veins. “Yes. And how is the missus?”
Sherlock swallowed. “Done for the evening. Don’t expect her back until at least the morning. Want to um…come back to Baker Street with me? You never did get to see the rest of the flat.”
John gave him a heated look that made Sherlock flush the darkest shade of pink that he’d seen yet. “Oh god, yes.”