Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

((Funny that you had Rachel notice John and Sherlock were together- I was thinking of having her be shocked and making some comment about John not looking gay, so it was interesting to see you had the opposite instinct for her. The comment about how close they stand to each other was cute))

Rachel cuddled Percy close to her and took a deep breath.

"I'm assuming that at this point you know about the treasure that was supposed to be buried on the grounds?"

"Yes," John answered, pulling his chair so that it was a comfortably close distance from Rachel.

"Right. All of the local village children had grown up hearing stories of some fantastic treasure that was supposed to be on the grounds. It was just a story, there were as many different versions as their were tellers. Some said pirates buried it, some said that a past deMauley was a thief, and then another said that the treasure was brought over from a Crusade by a knight. It was nonsense."

"Ed though...well, he actually believed it...He had this theory about one of the kings hiding jewels or something in the grounds, some hundred years ago. He was obsessed with the idea, it was why he got the job in the house. He was always trying to find a record or some clue that would lead him to the treasure..."

Rachel looked down, biting her lip.

"It's alright," John said softly, "keep going."

"I...I was attracted to Ed...I originally thought the obsession was cute, a little kid who still believes in pirate treasure. I didn't realize...anyways, I was the one who found the riddle. I told him about it, hoping to impress him. It worked, he took me out on a date, and managed to get me to show him the riddle. He couldn't figure it out though. Looking back now I realize that the whole time he was dating me it was only because I had access to the riddle. Also because I was better at figuring it out. Ed...well to be honest he was rather stupid- no head for puzzles, could barely even do the wordsearch in the local paper. I was the one who figured out the puzzle, though it took me longer than it should have because he kept arguing with me about every line."

“Well, anyways, after I solved the riddle I realized that Ed wasn't planning on just taking the treasure himself. He had gotten others involved, Jack Hammond and the like, and...well their plans were violent. They were going to harm the Count. I told Ed I didn't want any part in that. The Count isn't a friend or anything, but he's been a good employer to me, I told him I would expose him to the Count.”

An expression of lingering fear takes over Rachel's face, and she absently rubs at her side.

“Well, Ed took a turn after I said that...he hit me, multiple times. He threatened to spread lies to the Count that would lose me my job. He...he threatened to kill me if he needed to, and to go after Em,” Rachel's voice breaks and she starts shuddering, “I-I swore to him I would keep my mouth shut, but still said I couldn't take a part in the plan. He-he told me then that I needed to be gone, th-that if I wanted Em to be safe I n-needed to make myself disappear. H-he said he would go after her if he so much as saw me or found out I had contacted the Count. So, that's w-why I've been here.”

Rachel bursts into tears, and Helen pulls her close, allowing her friend to cry on her shoulder.

((Went to the theatre again, I am just back and my computer has sneakily been confiscated by my mother and I am tired to mobiletype and make typos so I obvipusly can't post a devent post with a plot. I really have to write this rp overday, because I hate it to let you down AGAIN))

((oh and I really like your idea about the gay thing. I am sctually very curious of how it wod have worked, so if I can edit my previous post (tomorrow, that is :')))

((Haha, don't worry. I am totally envious of how much time you spend at the theater. I love to go, but don't often get the chance. Also, mobiletyping is SUCH a pain, so I understand the desire to avoid it.))

((If we don't want to edit the past post, I was thinking that if they end up still going to see the older sister she could be the one to make the mistake. Maybe make some comment about Rachel's choice in men? Tell her that John would be the right type of guy for her, and then have her say that John's gay? The two sisters then get in an argument about it, while John and Sherlock are awkwardly standing and watching? I don't know, idea floated through my head at some point in the middle of history class today- no idea why THEN, I was supposed to be thinking about primary sources))

Sherlock listened carefully to what Rachel had to say. He was glad John was good with people and said the things that worked well for the situation. He always managed to say the right things, the things that people needed to hear, while Sherlock completely failed at that. It was remarkable.

He stretched his fingers against his lips and closed his eyes. He hadn't heard anything that was entirely new to him. Rachel being abused before she had to hid herself wasn't something Sherlock hadn't considered. He had thought that had been a very probable option, in fact.

"Jack Hammond." Sherlock murmured.

"What about him?" John asked.

"I need more information about Jack Hammond." Sherlock opened his eyes and got up.

"Where does your sister live?" Sherlock asked Rachel, briskly.

"Just three streets away, why?" Rachel said between sobs.

"I need to visit her. But I need you with me and you can't walk. This is a village, old ladies are the eyes and ears. No, we must go by car, Helen, do you own a car?"

"Yes, but-"

"No, we have to go, now!"

Sherlock hurried himself to and fro in the small room, when he felt John's hand hooking one of his legs. John gave him a soft, but urgent glance up, evidently meaning: Not good, you need to calm down.

"Soon." John reassured Rachel with a kind expression. "Take your time."

Sherlock inhaled dramatically slowly and exhaled even slower. It worked, despite his irritation.

Helen had brought Rachel a handkerchief, which she used to dry her eyes and then blow her nose.

"All right." Rachel said numbly, her voice nasal of the blowing. Helen rubbed her back comfortingly and helped her up.

They went outside, not forgetting their coats and jackets. They shielded Rachel to the car, carefully, yet nonchalantly, looking around for familiar people. There were none, so they quickly were off to Emily, Sherlock wriggling his toes nervously in the passenger-seat.

((Ended up reading the real Musgrave Ritual earlier tonight, fun case))
((Also, warning: scene is over-flowing with awkwardness and bad comedy at the expense of our characters.))

Once Rachel had calmed herself down, they got into the car. For the short ride John gave an overly-exaggerated telling of the story of how Percy's antics during their time at the house, to keep Rachel distracted and calm. It worked, though when they pulled into the driveway of her sister's house she started shaking.

John went to the door first, knocking and explaining the situation to Emily in a hushed voice. He then waved to the others, and they quickly got Rachel and everyone else into the house. As soon as Rachel was through the door, Emily pulled her into a tight hug, tears in her eyes. Moments after, she stepped back and promptly started yelling at her sister.

"What they BLOODY HELL do you think you were doing?!?! Do you have ANY IDEA of how panicked I've been?!?!?! You couldn't have even CALLED me?!?!"

"Em, hon, I didn't want to put you in danger--"

"I don't fucking care about that!!!! I wanted to know YOU were safe!!! That matters more to me than myself, and you should bloody know that!!! By the Queen's bloomers, what were you thinking?!?! Also, why the fucking hell didn't you TELL me that son of a bitch was treating you badly?!?!"

Emily then peers at Rachel closely. She steps forward quickly and yanks her sister's shirt up past her belly button, then hisses angrily.

"He hit you. That bastard HIT YOU!!!"

"Em, you need to calm down," Rachel says quickly, darting a look over at Sherlock, "this man has questions he needs to ask you."

Emily looks over at Sherlock. She narrows her eyes and scans him up and down, then looks back at her sister.

"You're kidding me, right?"

Rachel looks confused, then blushes, "Oh, no--"

"You just left Ed, and now you're trying for this guy? Honey, you need time to get through this, not a rebound guy. Besides, even if you want a rebound guy, he's not at all the right type. He's...bad- clearly dangerous, probably an asshole. I mean, he's sexy, but not the personality you need right now! Besides, I'm pretty sure he's gay. What about the short guy?"

"What?!" Rachel yelps, completely confused.

"What???" John tries to interject, attempting to remind Emily that he and Sherlock are still in the room. Emily does not notice.

"He looks nice- a good, stable, sensitive guy who would take care of you. I mean, he might seem a bit boring compared to tall-dark-and-handsome," in the background John rolls his eyes, "but he's a better long-term choice. He wouldn't hurt you, and he could help you get your life back."

Rachel is looking at her sister, completely befuddled, "Em, what are you talking about? He's gay."

"No!" Emily argues and turns to John, "There's no way he's gay! Look at him! He can't be."

Typical, John thinks to himself, everyone thinks I'm gay when I'm straight, and straight when I'm gay. What the hell?

"Your sister is right," John tells Emily, showing he ring "I'm gay, and I'm engaged."

"Are you sure?" Emily asks, not quite able to believe she was wrong.

John gives her a look like she's mental, "Very sure, it's a pretty hard thing to make a mistake about."

"You seem straight though...I mean, you look straight, and seem to act straight...this guy, your fiance...I mean, do you actually like him sexually? Is it just an emotional thing?"

"You cannot be serious. You do know that there's not a rule about how gay men have to look and act? They...we...are just like any other type of person. Just because I don't go around wearing a pink sequined shirt or anything doesn't mean I can't be in love with another man and have sex with him...oh, for fuck's sake!"

John marches over to Sherlock, grabs his scarf, and pulls him down for a quick, highly annoyed, snog.

When he pulls away, he turns to the others, "Now, can we please move the conversation off of my sexuality and onto topics that are actually relevant and important such as, oh I don't know, this whole business with Ed and Jack!"

Emily, face burning red, nods and turns to Sherlock, "Umm, yeah, right, so...ah, what do you want to know?"

Sherlock looked amusedly to the scene in front of him. Then he was a rebound, then he was sexy and then he was gay! John had a worse time convincing Emily he was gay. Everyone assumed he was gay when he was supposidly straight, and now he was engaged with a man, everyone thought he was gay. But Sherlock was ever so happy to help John in his evidence of gayness, though he was a bit startled.

Sherlock groped John's ass for the short moment the kiss lasted. He told himself it was just to help John prove his point, but who was he fooling?

John's ass was one he gladly groped when he had the chance.

When they parted, he saw Emily trying to cover her flushed look, as if she had walked in on them. Sherlock grinned, then became serious.

"What I have heard from the barkeeper, you had had a relationship with Jack Hammond, is that correct?"

Emily's face whitened, but nodded.

"Could you describe him to me?"

Emily sighed. "Let's sit down."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. All these idiots who wanted to sit down prior to discussing things. Couldn't they just tell him?

Sherlock felt a hand on his arm. It was John of course, reminding him of his manners and purpose there. They all went to the living room to sit down.

"Jack... Is the common ladiesman. He loves football, women and beer. In that order. But what he loves most is money. He isn't dumb like Brunton, Jack is very economic in his doings, always searching for the most profitablr thing to do."

"As I said, he is a ladiesman, so I suppose that what we had... It didn't matter. To him. Not to me either, look what I got now: a good husband, a decent house and a kid..."

"What is his relation with Brunton exactly?"

Emily shrugged. "Best buddies since primary school. Nothing special, they were both the most handsome of the whole village, they could get who they wanted.." Emily wandered off in a memory.

"Does Jack have a criminal record? Unknown callers from abroad or from the country?" Sherlock snapped her attention to the things that mattered now.

"Eh... Let me think... The usual youth vandalism, driving while tipsy, the common stuff you know. He got calls from anonymous numbers, yes, bur who doesn't these days? It's not like he's some criminal mastermind."

Emily huffed a laugh, but it faded when she saw John and Sherlock's serious expression.

"We have encountered a criminal mastermind before who was unrecognisable in disguise right under our nose. We learned to be careful."

((of course is Jack not a criminal mastermind but ugh I am tired again and this mobile keyboard ugh))

At that moment a cry is heard from upstairs. Emily excuses herself, then comes back down the stairs a few minutes later carrying a baby boy, right around a year old. He has curly light blondish-red hair, messy from sleeping, and big blue eyes. He's still rubbing his eyes and pouting a bit, curled up against his mother's shoulder. He perks up when he sees the other people in the room, happily smiling and spouting nonsense words. He spots Rachel and instantly reaches out to her.

Rachel takes her nephew, cooing at him, "Hello Benny, it's so nice to see you. You've gotten even bigger since I was last here. Are you talking yet?"

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get him a bottle and snack."

Little Benedict looks around, then points at John and Sherlock, making a loud "Wha?" of inquiry.

"These are Auntie Rachel's friends. This is John, and that's Sherlock."

Benedict squirms in Rachel's arms until she puts him down. He then toddles quickly over to where John and Sherlock are standing to investigate these new people. He passes by John with a cursory glance, then comes to Sherlock's feet. He is clearly entranced by the shine on Sherlock's shoes. He starts pulling at Sherlock's trouser leg, trying to get the man's attention. John quickly swoops in and picks up the boy.

"Steady on there, little one."

John holds the boy a bit awkwardly- while he's good with kids, he's never been overly confident with infants. Benedict is currently scolding John in baby language for taking him off the floor. He pushes his hand into John's face, one finger going up John's nose. John ends up sneezing. Benedict freezes, stares at John, then bursts out into giggles.

He smiles at John, and sticks his hand into John's face again, now in a more exploratory manner. Hands go into his mouth, and narrowly avoid poking out John's eye. The resulting facial expressions John ends up making greatly amuse Ben. By the time Emily comes back into the room, the little boy is tugging on John's ear.

"Aaah, no, stop, that is connected to my head, it's not meant to be pulled on...Emily, you're back!"

Emily laughs, looking apologetic, "Oh, it seems he's taken a liking to you. I'm sorry, he's very curious. Here, I can take him."

She walks over. Ben looks happy, until Emily goes to pull him out of John's arms. Then he leans back and yells, "NO!"

"What's wrong love? It's just Mummy. You need to come away from John."

Ben scowls, "No," he points at John, "Mine."

"Benedict Timothy Carlton..."

"Mine."

"Oh dear...I'm afraid he's decided you're his new toy. I'm sorry...um, if you can deal with him just until the questioning is done, it will make things easier. Otherwise he'll end up throwing a fit."

John sighs, "Fine. Give me his food," the takes Benjamin over into the corner where he sits, trying to get the stubborn baby to eat some cold noodles and avoid having said noodles put down his shirt, "Come on Ben, you need to eat. If you don't eat it, I will, so you had best cooperate Mr. Benedict Timothy Carlton- Christ your Mum gave you quite a name, way too much for such a little guy."

Emily chuckles, then turns back to Sherlock.

"He's sweet. Anyways, you were wondering about Jack's criminal record? He was always very good at slipping out of things at the last minute and having someone else take the fall for him. His criminal record is fairly short, but it's pretty commonly believed that he's done a lot worse than is on record. He's...very charismatic. People end up doing things for him, thinking it's a good idea and then realizing their mistake after it's too late. It's not often crimes, but things like lending him money and then realizing you'll never get it back type of thing. If...if Ed had talked to Jack about some idea to get easy money, Jack would have gone in on it, been able to talk Ed into acting. Ed on his own was always a big talker, but never one for action- Jack was always the one getting Ed to do bad things. Jack would have made a plan, had Ed do the dirty work, and then just waited to reap the benefits. I can tell you though, I've known him my whole life- he's...cunning, but not necessarily smart. He knows how to get things he wants, but it's more of an...animal intelligence. Also, if he can tell that he'll be beaten, he turns coward- far too fond of himself to stick around if he knows he can't win. If he realizes you're looking into him, he'll bolt."

((Baby because I'm too tired to think of real plot, and I imagined John talking with the same tone of voice he uses for a sulking Sherlock. Weirdly enough though, as much as I see John good with kids I think he would just be clueless with babies- he would over-think it and just panic, so I had to try and write it.))

((aahaaaw so cute I can't))

Sherlock's senses sharpened when the woman carried the infant. He thought himself as very bad with these little humans. It was like cats, but then without prior knowledge of how to hadle them.

Sherlock cynically looked down at the toddle tugging at his trouserleg. Would it not stop? What did Sherlock ad to do to stop it? Did it have an on and off button? Would it cry? Because if it would cry, we would be long from home.

Luckily, John stepped in and lifted the kid to his chest. It poked John's nose until he sneezed. Sholerlock this was highly offensive, though he knew the little idiot couldn't help it. But Sherlock's hard expression changed into a smile when John pulled the weirdest faces to dodge the curious child's hands. John, although he was struggling, smiled too.

Just for a moment he wondered. John looked perfect like this. He could have had this with Mary or any other woman. Sherlock couldn't give him this. He could never give him this. Then he wondered how it would be, how it would be if that little boy was theirs, a child with blood and genes of one of them in his veins and body. If they were the fathers of that child, what would he feel towards it? The same irritation? No, the image of that being his own, warmed his heart. It scared Sherlock, what should he do with that?

No, it was out of the question. Their hme was not fit for a kid, he wasn't fit for a kid. Besides... Benedict Timothy Carlton, what a hideous name!

"No, he's mine." Sherlock said, still smiling vaguely and staring at John.

On top of that: they would be mkre careful with having sex and thát was something Sherlock would not give in.

"Thank you. My planswill be changed now you gave me this information. John, let's go, unless..."

Sherlock looked at little Ben, who was pressing John's cheeks with both hands, tho which John gave Sherlock such an unamused glance, Sherlock couldn't help but laugh out loud.

((Not much progress, lots of reviewing I know. I have a plan, but before Sherlock can tell John that, more dialogue is needed, which I think you are very good at. I loved how you wrote the kid and... The name hahhaha))

((Aw, thank you, I'm glad he came across as cute. I've babysat since I was 12, so I know how to do kids pretty well. Little Ben was based off a boy I took care of over my winter break- cute, but he got into soooo much trouble all the time.))

John stood up and put Ben down. Ben made an indignant cry.

"Oh, none of that, you'll be fine," John sighs. He looks down at the pouting baby, "Oh please. I know pouts, and you're not really that distressed. Go on over to your mummy."

Emily walked over and picked up Benedict.

"Say bye-bye Bennie."

Ben leaned over and hugged around John's neck, licking his cheek in a attempt at a kiss, "Buh-bye."

John smiled weakly, wiping at his now-sticky face, "Bye Ben."

"There are wipes on the kitchen counter on the way out, if you want to clean that."

"Thanks, and thank you for your help."

John walks with Sherlock through the kitchen to the door, stopping a moment to grab a wipe and clean off his cheek.

"Good Lord, I don't know how people raise babies. I just don't understand it. I can deal with them fine once they can talk in full sentences, but when they're little like that...Also with how easily they can get sick or hurt...well, there's a reason I never wanted to go into pediatrics."

John looked over at Sherlock, "You got a weird look on your face in there, when I was holding Ben. What were you thinking about? You almost looked...guilty..." John stops walking and grabs Sherlock's arm gently, "I know we can't have that Sherlock, I thought it through when we first started dating. It's ok, it's not really what I want in my life anymore."

Sherlock gives John a surprisingly vulnerable doubting look. John steps forward and kisses him on the cheek.

"I don't want you to feel like you're making me miss out on anything. Being with you is more important to me. Any of the women I dated, if I had married them...I wouldn't have loved them. I would have pretended to, for the kid, but...well in the end the child would have been the only reason I stuck around, the only happy part of the whole situation. That would have been wrong, and I would have been miserable. I'd rather have a spouse who I truly to love and no child, than be stuck trying to salvage an unhappy marriage with a kid. My parent's made that mistake and if was hell for the whole family, and had to watch as it destroyed both of them. I'm not making their mistake. I want to be happy, and that means chasing criminals down and then coming home to Baker Street to sleep with my lover at the end of the day."

John wraps his arms around Sherlock, kissing him softly on the lips.

"Only way I ever plan on becoming a father is if your mother and Mrs. Hudson gang up on us and demand grandchildren. If that is the case, then I am truly terrified because while I am looking forward to being married to a Holmes, I'm not sure how I would fare attempting to raise one. Any kid with your DNA would be able to outsmart me by the time it started talking, not to even mention the hassle of trying to get the both of you to actually stop experimenting and go to sleep at night. Besides, then I would have to share you for cuddling, and I don't think I like the idea of that, even if it was just sharing you with a kid. You're mine."

John is pleased to see the tension leave Sherlock.

"Now, what are we going to do about Jack and Ed? We still don't actually know what they were planning, or where they are. It seems like they were planning to get the chest, and then sell it and split profit. We're not sure if they knew what was in the chest. Now though...well we can't be sure if they are aware the chest is gone, but we do know they have some plan to act today?"

((This was actually sort of hard to write because I adore kids and plan to definitely have some after I'm done with university. Also, I personally find Parentlock adorable- completely OOC for John and Sherlock, but really cute.))

((Yeah I agree. Completely OOC but so cute :3))

"Good." Sherlock smiled and gave John a peck on the cheek.

"They are simple souls, so I think their plan is easy. They think we don't know about the chest, or at least I hope so. So, what I think they'll do is: they'll come to the tree because they hadn't had enough help from Rachel to know where the exact location of the chest is, they'll follow the steps and end up by the door. They'll try to open it and they'll find the chest - or.. so they think."

Sherlock's eyes began to shine.

"There are several things we could do. We could empty the chest we dug up, fill it with nonsense and bury it again, for them to find. We could reinstall the boobytraps if we want to have some fun along the way. I suspect they'll be with more than two men. Three or Four even. In any case, we should inform the police so that they can give us extra manpower if it gets tricky."

"So all we have to do is get back to the count and call the police?" John asked to be sure.

Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, ánd inspect the chest when the Trust's representative has arrived. What do you think?"

((Decided to give John a BAMF moment at the end of this, but there's a bit of...nasty sentiment that prompts it, just a heads up.))

"All sounds good to me. If we want to do booby traps I actually have some experience setting them from the army. Most of it was done by a different division, but I was still trained in the basics. Calling the police definitely needs to be done- this isn't Lestrade, so you won't be able to get away with making an arrest without the authorities present."

"So, seems like we should be heading back to the manor. Spend the afternoon dealing with the booby traps and filling in the police, then work with the chest tonight?"

"Correct," Sherlock answers.

"Well then, want to walk back? I know it's a bit far, but the weather's nice, and I'm not sure this town even has cabs."

"I highly doubt it. Yes, walking is acceptable, we're not in a hurry."

They start walking back, John's hand brushing against the back of Sherlock's in a steady rhythm. After a minute of this, John feels Sherlock's fingers twine through his. He smiles and lifts their joined hands up to kiss, then lets them fall back between their bodies.

"So, what about new booby traps? Are you going to want to set any up of your own?"

"I am considering altering some of the pre-existing ones to be less fatal, as we need at least one of the gang members alive in order to procure a confession."

"Very practical."

At that point a shout is heard from behind them, "Oy, fag, is this your fairy of a boyfriend?"

John's shoulders tense- this must be one of the men from the bar last night. He turns around, "For your information, I'm his fiance, not his boyfriend."

"Oh really? Well I've half a mind to take a look in your 'faince's' trousers, see if there's anything actually there. Last I checked, marriage is between a man and a woman, so one of you must be lacking your bits."

John growls and steps forward. He moves quickly, swiping a foot across the other man's legs, jabbing him in the stomach, and pinning him to the ground by his throat.

He leans close to speak in a soft, menacing voice to the man, "Now I am only going to give you this warning once, so listen closely. I am a trained soldier. I spent years of my life fighting in Afghanistan," John is about to say how Sherlock tracks murders down with the police, but thinks better of it- no knowing if this man is one of their gang members, "Sherlock has specialized martial arts training and spends plenty of time on the more dangerous side of London. If you or any of your friends ever comes near either of us again, you will be hurt- badly. I am making this clear now- both of us will do anything necessary to keep the other from harm. Do not test that."

John gets off the other man, grabbing a card sticking out of his pocket without the man noticing- he's too busy coughing.

"You're--insane---you're a fucking freak. No wonder you can't get a girl to sleep with you."

John glances down at the card he's holding- it's for a prostitute. He throws it down at the man on the sidewalk, "At least I don't need to pay my lover. Better keep that in a place it won't fall from your pocket, I don't your friends would be impressed."

John walks over and takes Sherlock's hand, "Come on, lets go."

((Ooooh Sherly got something to say about this))

Sherlock looked loathingly down at the man who had insulted them. He had no grave physical injuries or anything serious. Yet, Sherlock pitied him. He pitied him for his imbecility, but also a bit for what John had done to him. He turned away from the man and walked on in silence. After a minute or two, he mumbled.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

He felt John turning his head to face him. He didn't look back.

"It's the least I would do for you."

"Yes, and I appreciate the effor but that wasn't necessary."

John was silent for a moment, assembling his thoughts into coherent words. They had left the little village behind and were now walking though fields and bushes.

"Sherlock, that man was insulting you. He called you a fairy, he wanted to look into your pants to see if you really are a man! He insulted the term 'marriage' by thinking it is only for hetro people! If you don't find that insulting-"

Sherlock still didn't look at John, but he knew what he would see: pressed lips, stern eyes, a look from under his brow and that little finger, waving in the air. John was getting a mad at him, nothing unusual, thoigh Sherlock felt uncomfortable.

"I know, John. I know. I felt insulted and I know je is an idiot who can't help it, but... I can't help feeling it's wolrong to fight fire with fire. Now he has a stereotype in his head that 'fags are batshit crazy'. Maybe you don't understand because you served in Afghanistan, but... I don't become a murderedlr beculause I hate murderers? To me, one would lower himself to the level of the insulter."

For the first time, Sherlock looked up and faced John, whose face was flushed with agitation.

((Poor Jawn. Sticking up for his fiancee and then getting called an idiot for doing so. I'd like them to have a row, seems about time. But please don't make your post too long, I'd like to write a grwat deal of Sherlock's wart (: ))

((Sounds good! Oh, this will be interesting, because I totally agree with Sherlock's stand on the matter. I'll have to argue against myself, fun challenge.))

John could admit that, logically, he understood what Sherlock was saying, but right now- with anger still pumping through him from his encounter with the man- he could not bring himself to agree with Sherlock's view.

"Well what the hell would you have had me do! Should I have just stood by, silent, and let him spew abuse at you?! Sherlock, I saw how hurt you were last night. I know you didn't want to show it, but I could see. I can't--no one should be allowed to talk to you like that, and I certainly won't let it happen when I'm standing right there!"

((If we want this can build up long-term. If this fight ends on uncomfortable terms- realizing they won't agree and not talking about it- it's very likely John will be in a bad mood for the rest of the day and do something stupid and dangerous when the criminals are added into the mix. They could then end up having a fight over being stupid and dangerous without taking the other person into consideration.))

((Oh I like the sound of that! (how mean it may sound). And thenbargue about stupid and dangerous actions and suddenly realising they argue be ause they love each other. Awww))

Sherlock flicked his eyes to the ground for a moment when John mentioned last night. He felt a flinch of the same feeling of yesterday, and the one John just mentioned - hurt. John was right and Sherlock hated and loved him for it.

"Oh, come on, that was just talking. Yesterday, there was physical contact, a chest-thrust and a punch in return. That's when it's fair to throw people on the floor, almost strangling them and threatening them!"

"Plus: when you do that, you become like them -idiots!"

((I hate Sherlock this way because I know what impact it will have on John))

((Ooh, yeah, that might be a bit too much for him. It's ok though, because in the end we can make it up to them with a wonderful fluffy make-up scene))

John flinches back as if Sherlock had physically struck him.

"I am nothing like them," he says softly.

He steps closer to Sherlock, forcing himself into the detective's personal space. His face is clearly showing all of the anger and pain Sherlock's words caused.

"I may not be as smart as you, but don't you ever compare me to a someone like that."

John steps back, a hard, masked expression falling over his face, shutting out all signs of his thoughts and emotions.

"I'm walking back alone. I need some space."

He turns around and walks away without another word.

((So, sorry if his walking away isn't very helpful. I was kind of getting the feeling that he was either going to leave and avoid Sherlock, or punch him, so...))

((oh this is so interesting. I love it.

It was not John's closeness that made Sherlock lean back just a bit. It were the emotions, written all over his face. He immediately regretted what he'd said the moment after he'd said it. And now he was staring a hurt John into his eyes.

Sherlock just stood there, numb, seeing his fiancé shutting down and walking away.

He wanted several things, he wanted to apologise, he knew John was nothing like them, it was just that he hadn't put it nicely. And now again, words failed him. Should he shout that he should come back? Should he run after John?

However, his lips and legs refused until John had disappeared from his sight. The moment he was gone, Sherlock cursed, loudly. Why couldn't he manage his goddamn words when he was emotional?

He tugged at his hair and then sharply let go. He began to walk back to the manor, telling himself it was just an argument, like normal couples have often. Yeah, of course, just a normal row, nothing to worry about.

Sherlock tried to push it to the back of his mind palace and succeeded... temporarily. It kept creeping back to his attention until he just let it and just put it to the cellar of his mind palace and locked it away for later.

Soon enough, he arrived at the manor. A new car was parked outside. It seemed that the Trust representative had arrived. Sherlock rung the bell, a footman opened the door and Sherlock strode in, almost bumping into the count and the representative. The Count had been giving the representative a tour around the house while they had been waiting for Sherlock. Sherlock deduced this, it was so obvious, that he just demanded without consideration.

"Show me the case."

((blaaaahhhh i have to do a 15 minute talk for my class tomorrow and i am nervoussssss))

((Oh, you can do it! I'm sure you'll be great! Lots of times I make sure I have something to have in my hands when I talk, helps keep me from freaking out too much. Good luck.))
((This is fantastic, but I feel SOOOO bad about it))

John got back to the manor grounds, but avoided the house. He was not in any sort of mood to deal with people, and he suspected that Sherlock would go to the house. So instead he went to the treasure's old hiding place. He started putting the booby traps back together. Working on a complex task with his hands felt good, it helped him calm down a bit.

He stopped one step before finishing all of the traps, leaving them so Sherlock could go through and set his own plans up without the traps going off.

Then, he left. A ways off he saw a group of figures walking in his direction- one of the figures was clearly Sherlock.

John turned, not sure if they had spotted him yet, and quickly walked away. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. At this point he had moved past being angry- though there was still a fair amount of hurt remaining from Sherlock's statement. Now though, his main emotion was fear. What was Sherlock thinking? With anyone else he wouldn't worry about a fight like this- it could easily be worked past- but Sherlock was different. Sherlock didn't do emotions well, and he held grudges very easily (just take Mycroft for an example). Would he be willing to work with John to get past this?

John wanted to go and talk things out with Sherlock, make sure he was ok, but he didn't go. Sherlock was clearly working now, and it would be wrong to sidetrack him. Work still came first, the personal drama could wait. Until they could properly talk though, he needed to stay away from Sherlock. Otherwise the tension would become a distraction.

((Ok, so John will probably just keep wandering and avoiding people. Maybe once night hits and the bad guys come he stations himself just on a back path or something where he can keep an eye on things- close enough to help if there's danger, but far enough to be hidden. Then someone makes a run for it- Jack?- and John goes after him? Most likely he's unarmed now, so doing that would be incredibly stupid and Sherlock would be completely justified to yell at him about it.))

((SORRY SORRY SORRY for a post like this again. THis time it's a Disneyland Paris audition for which I have to get up at quarter past 6 to be there in time at 10 o'clock. Sorry again, but I have to delay my post!))

((WOW!!!! Disneyland??? That's SOOOO cool!!!! Hope it goes well!!!))

((Thanks! I was rejected after the first round. They look at your form a great deal and I think my age, availability and maybe even hight were not what they were looking for. You HAVE to be 18 if you want to work for Disneyland and I won't be 18 till summer. So. Yah. Bummer. Better luck next time.))

The Trust's representative showed Sherlock the contents. They were of very little interest to Sherlock as they were of a king that was long dead. But he understood it had great value to historians and probably the entire country, but Sherlock didn't care. His mind was sidetracked by other matters.

That's how he called John now: the other matter. Sherlock was in his work mode and while John was not here with him , thus not being a help to him, he was 'the other matter'. The fact that they had had a row wasn't helpful too.

Sherlock was constantly looking around when the three of them were on their way to the back door to go outside.

"Where's John?" The Count asked with interest.

"I don't know." Sherlock said monotone. The Count didn't let the subject go, though.

"Did something happen between you two?"

Sherlock didn't answer. The Count took that as enough of an answer, but didn't pursue 'the other matter'.

The trio went outside. Sherlock walked ahead from the others, looking for John. But he seemed to be absent here as well. Sherlock opened the secret door in a half wish the other matter was there. But he wasn't. There were... booby traps though.

A grin broke open on Sherlock's stoic face.

"Count, representative, you'd better go inside the manor or walk around the grounds. I'll be working with booby traps. Ugly business."

The Count and the representative murmured an 'ok' and left, leaving Sherlock to his task. He had to admit, the work done so far was neatly done, no flaws to see. All this work was for him, he realised. Damn now Sherlock felt even worse. He didn't deserve 'the other matter'. He didn't deserve John.

That was the moment something urgent came up in his mind. A new strategy. Fortunately, he had just finished this work. He got up and closed the door behind him, regarding this as finished, and ran to the Count and -hopefully- John.

((So they have to meet up at some point. Could Sherlock perhaps meet the police and John to explain the strategy of that night? So that John is in a group and Sherlock doesn't talk to him one on one?))
((Oh I should say I am going to stay over at my boyfriend's for three nights :3 So I will not be able to reply till Thursday! Sorry!))

((Oh, sorry to hear that, but yeah- better luck next time))
((No problem, this will be a busy week for me as well. Have fun with your boyfriend!))

John realized in the midst of his wandering that he couldn't avoid Sherlock all night. He had to go back to the house at some point to figure out what the plan was for catching the gang. He sighs and flops down on a tree stump.

"Fuck, I don't want to see him like that. I don't want to talk to him until we can take the time to get this mess sorted out."

John takes a few minutes to try and figure out what would be the best way for him to deal with this. Most likely trying to stay as unemotional as possible. Well then, good thing he has military training. John closes his eyes and cautiously digs up some of the memories of Afghanistan. None of the actual battles, but the memories of his training. Slowly, he feels the hard shell of discipline and apathy he had learned to keep up fall over him- it was the only way he could survive on mission- how he dealt with watching brothers-in-arms die without going mad. This was the same situation. He had a mission and he could not be emotionally compromised. He needed to push all his feelings aside, lock them up, until after the mission. He knew the danger of this- when he pushed his feelings away like this they always flooded over stronger than normal once he let them out again, but it was the only coping mechanism he knew.

When John opened his eyes again he was Captain Watson of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. His face was blank, giving no hint of the thoughts beneath it. His posture fell immediately into attention parade stance. His eyes were no longer a warm and caring, but cold and guarded. He would be almost unrecognizable to anyone who had met him in the past few years, it was as if he had never come back to London and moved into Baker Street.

John quickly marched back to the manor house, and into the sitting room. There he saw Sherlock, the Count, and a man who must be the Treasury representative gathered at a table. They all looked up as he entered. John focused his attention on the Count, avoiding looking at Sherlock. The Count was clearly shocked and slightly disturbed at the change in John.

"Ah-Dr. Watson. We were wondering where you were, we've been waiting for you."

"My apologies for your troubles," John replies crisply, "I had not intended to be a source of delay."

John finally looks over at Sherlock, and for a moment his protective shell slips, letting his emotions flow out. He cannot read all of the look Sherlock is giving him, but the bit he can decipher breaks his heart. Sherlock is looking at him in the same way he does when deducing a stranger- trying to pick him apart, get clues. He is clearly trying to find some hint of his John buried inside this cold soldier.

John looks away the moment he feels the crack forming in his control, so he does not see if Sherlock notices it. He shifts his poster slightly, arms going behind his back into an at-ease stance, and the familiar motion seals up the crack.

"Yes, well..." the Count stammers slightly, trying to figure out how to handle this new John, "would you care for some tea before we set to business?"

"Thank you, my lord, but I will decline," John says with formality, "I do believe that enough time has been wasted on my behalf already. It is going on 1700 hours, and dark will be falling very soon. We must begin planning at once, if we're to manage this operation with any sort of organization."

John turns to Sherlock, his superior office in this situation, "Holmes, what are your plans for us?"

((Oh, this is killing me. I hate this version of John. I've written it before, and it always makes me so sad. He's turning down tea! He won't call Sherlock by his first name! I will also warn you, when John's in this military mode, he's much less kind and considerate. More controlled in some ways, but less worried about hurting people. I wrote one story where he was like this- weird AU where he actually managed to delete his feelings for Sherlock- and he managed to rival Sherlock in tearing people apart verbally. He won't be that bad here, but...well if Sherlock tries to talk with him now, John will probably say very mean things.))

((aaah sorry for the delay! I had fun with my boyfriend though ;)))

The Count and the representative, whose name Sherlock had forgotten, couldn't stop talking about the treasure. It was tedious to listen to the unending and uninteresting rambling about kings long dead and the Trust's importance in archaeology these days. Sherlock's lulled mind snapped alive when the door opened and John entered.

But it wasn't John. Sherlock frowned and looked harder. John's hands were balled into fists, his jaw clenched and his whole body straight and tense. Sherlock didn't get a good look at his face - not yet. John stepped closer and stopped next to the representative, across from Sherlock. Only a table stood between them. Sherlock tried to catch John's gaze, but failed. When he eventually didn't try any more, John shot him a glance.

John's eyes were set hard. There was no trace of his usual softness and kindness that made John John. It was like Sherlock was looking at a stranger. That was when he realised.

He was looking at John Watson. He was looking at Dr John Watson, captain of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. This was military John. Not even the sexy military John he was in the bedroom, no. This was the roughened, ready-for-battle Watson.

And it was frightening.

What have I done to him? Sherlock thought, desperately. He got a bit nervous, panicky even. What if he had ruined another human with his words? And not any human, John! His John!

He would fix him. As soon as possible. He just had to.

Subconsciously, Sherlock straightened his spine too, mimicking John. He would not let the Count and the representative see this weakness, though Sherlock lost his composure when John called him Holmes. Holmes!?

Sherlock slipped his formal shell back on. He turned to John, eyes meeting and a stroke of hurt smashing his stomach. It was hard to keep eye contact, but he pushed himself to do keep it.

"Once the local police Inspector has arrived, I shall explain the plans for tonight."

John already turned away, but Sherlock tried to keep his attention.

"Joh- ehm. Watson, A quick word, in the hall." Sherlock nodded his head in the direction of the hall. His feet followed. John's did too.

Sherlock held the door open for John and shut it once they were both in the hall. Sherlock quickly looked around - there were no footmen in sight. Good. He turned back to John and let his tense composure fall.

"John."

Sherlock touched the side of John's upper arm to get his attention to turn and look at him. He didn't shake it off, but Sherlock let go anyway. Touching this new John didn't feel good. John stared him coldly in the eye. Sherlock flicked his eyes to the ground for a moment, before realising this was a token of weakness, so he looked up again.

"John, I-" Oh those goddamn words. "I know you're not like those idiots. I-I know I shouldn't have said that and ehm..." What to say more? "John, I'm sorry."

((I kind of like this contrast. Now Sherlock is the one who wants to fix stuff. I didn't write your John much, because I am so curious about how this is going to end!))

((Yay!!! So happy to hear you had a good time :) ))
((Yeah, I'm curious too. I feel so horrible that they're fighting on Valentine's Day weekend :( ))
((Also-Valentine's Day picture of the boys kissing: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]

John can't do this, he can't. Sherlock is clearly in pain, and it's making him feel sick. This is dangerous, he's practically forgotten the case already. He needs to keep this separate.

John walks a few steps away, turning his back to Sherlock, trying to keep himself pulled together. Every nerve in him is screaming out to go and hold Sherlock, feel the other man's arms circle around him, reassure his fiance that they will fix this and that he still loves him. He's clearly already distracting Sherlock from the case, he needs to do something to calm Sherlock down- they can make up afterwards, but they both need to focus on the work now.

John turns back to Sherlock, still clearly very tense, but a little less closed off.

"Thank you for the apology," he says, words a bit stiff, "It means a lot to hear you say that. I am no longer angry with you, though I am still rather hurt. I will forgive you though. However, I am trying to stay unemotional until we are finished with this case I do not want our argument to interfere with our work. Normally I would choose to work through the personal matter with you first, but in this case the timing doesn't really allow for that, so I am relying on being able to ignore my emotions for a few hours. You're not the only one who has needed to seem heartless in the past."

Since the fight on the sidewalk John's leg has been aching dully. Now, facing Sherlock and having to talk like this, the pain has flared up. John shifts his weight slightly, causing a sharp flash to shoot from his knee to his hip. The pain makes John stagger for just a second, and his face goes white. He quickly covers the moment of weakness up by going stony-faced again. He tells himself that things will be ok- he just needs to get through a few hours and then they can fix this.

In the meantime though, he needs to leave NOW, before his loses his resolve and just falls apart. Fuck it, why does he feel so weak? He's fought with Sherlock before, what is it about this fight that's effecting him so much? Maybe because it's in the middle of a case, or because of the comparison? Very possibly because it's their first real fight since getting engaged. John knows that they will be fine, but until he can have that moment of reconciliation he's going to hurt like this.

"Dammit! I can't...this is too much! I want to make up with you, reassure you so that horrible hurt look will leave your face. The fact that it's my fault it's there makes me sick with myself! I need to focus though. We're on a case, the work should come fist, that's the rule. I can't be distracted, because if I'm distracted you could be hurt, and that wouldn't help anything!"

John's fists are clenching and unclenching with frustration, and he finally swears, giving in. He storms over to where Sherlock is and shoves the other man against the hallway wall. He presses up against Sherlock and kisses him fiercely, letting some of the anger drain out into the kiss.

Once he runs out of breath, he pulls back to pant against Sherlock's neck, his hold becoming less forceful and more protective, "I love you, no matter how pissed off you sometimes make me that doesn't change. I do forgive you for being an asshole, I know you weren't trying to hurt me. After this damn case is wrapped up we are going to have a proper talk about this. We are also going to come up with some sort of solution for what to do if we get in a fight during a case so it can be handled in a better fashion. I think my plan for trying to stay apathetic is proving to be utter shit. I am so, so sorry for any hurt my behavior has caused you."

John lets himself collapse against Sherlock, lets himself one moment of weakness, "Tell me what you need me to do so you can focus tonight."

((Hmm, so it's official- John really cannot do this argument thing. He is completely disarmed by a hurt/ scared Sherlock. Not sure if this messes up the plan of them fighting more later or not. I tried having him keep up the cold bastard act, but it just wasn't working. He can still get himself hurt somehow, or do something stupid- maybe now try and pretend everything's fine and normal, I don't know.))

((I wasn't sure if the part from "Dammit---help anybody" was an inner dialogue or an audible dialogue, so I'll go for the first, because the kiss will be a surprise for Sherlock then.))

Sherlock was glad John accepted his apology, though the way he said it was horrible. It hurt to see John like this. His cold, emotionless composure wasn't the worst. John's little stumble on his bad knee was the worst. In a reflex, Sherlock braced himself to support John if he would fall, not even thinking about it. His help wasn't needed- yet. Though John looked stiff, he looked weak too. If they were really continuing this kind of relationship - which pained Sherlock at the thought of it - Sherlock was afraid John would actually fall at some point.

He saw John clenching his fists and his jaws and looking away for a moment. Sherlock wondered what he was thinking. He had not much time for that, because the moment he blinked, he was drawn back to the wall. John's mouth and body were fiercely pressing on his. He felt John's anger in the kiss. Sherlock hoped it was anger towards himself, more than towards Sherlock.

And although it was really inappropriate, Sherlock found himself turned on by this hell of a surprise. Or was it adrenaline? Anyway, John was fixed! John fixed himself! This was the John he knew. This was the John he loved.

Sherlock broke into a careful smile when John finally stopped crushing his lips to Sherlock's. He wrapped his arms around John and embraced him tightly.

"I love you too." Sherlock pressed a kiss on John's crown. He looked for John's hand and entangled his fingers with John's. "I just need you to be yourself. Just be your wonderful self."

Sherlock pressed another peck on John's forehead when the doorbell rang. He frowned, irritated by the despicable timing of it all, but when he looked down at John again, he smiled softly and gave him a softer kiss. "I love you." He repeated and pulled away to open the door when it rang for the second time. A footman was walking rapidly their way, but Sherlock was sooner.

"Ah, Inspector. I dare to say on the Count's behalf: come in!" Sherlock said, still holding John's hand.

The Inspector, followed by three police officers, stepped into the manor. The footman guided them to the sitting room, where the Count and the representative sat already. John was to follow too, but Sherlock stopped him. "We're right behind you! Go and say hi to the count." Then, the footman closed the door behind the police officers and the inspector and they were alone again.

Sherlock took a deep breath and faced John once again. John's composure had changed, he looked tired of the emotions, but luckily alive again. Sherlock's expression was soft.

"Tell me what you need from me so you can make it through till tonight."

((Ah! Feel so much better now that they're ok!!!! I get so stressed writing scenes with them fighting))

As the police officers walked through the main foyer John could feel the sick tension in his stomach relaxing and some of the pain in his leg fading. Things are going to be ok, he and Sherlock would be fine, none of the damage was irreparable. By the time Sherlock focused back on him he was almost feeling back to normal, though very tired

When Sherlock asked what he needed, John stepped forward one more time, stroking a hand against Sherlock's cheek.

"Same thing you asked me for- just be yourself. I think I'll be fine now, I...I'm positive now that we can fix this and I think the worst of it is already past, so it shouldn't cause trouble. I love you so much."

John leans up for one last soft set of kisses- one on each cheek, and then one on his lips. He then takes a step back, keeping one hand wrapped in Sherlock's.

"Come on, let's wrap up this case. I need a new story for the blog, otherwise I'll have to start posting horribly-written poems about your eyes and lips, just to give people things to read," John gives Sherlock a small grin, and takes another step towards healing by teasing his lover, "Though then again, I could try and write up some of our recent adventures...'The Great Towel Fiasco': a thrilling case in which John Watson solves a mystery all on his own, investigating the mysterious disappearances of the flat's towels, only to discover the guilty culprit to be his own lover Sherlock Holmes, scheming to force John to walk around the flat naked for his own viewing pleasure."