The Unexpected Part 7
At the station weary eyed workers sat at their desks, the smell of coffee filled the room as Sherlock seemed to breeze through, unharmed by the infectious yawning that seemed to be passed on like chinese whispers,to Lestrade's office who was sat over a cup of steaming hot coffee trying to wake himself up. Sherlock strolled into the office and said
"You should go to bed earlier, I sent you home at 8 which left time for food and pointless TV and enough hours sleep for a normal human to function in the morning" he said with a slight smirk as Lestrade looked up.
"Alright, alright I don't need your wise cracks and I would have had enough sleep if someone hadn't text me at a ridiculous hour of the morning! So what have you found? And what do you need?" Lestrade said knowing that Sherlock wasn't even sorry about waking him.
"Fedor Tolstoy, a Russian scientist who invented a poison that could be implanted into the body and would slowly disintegrate in the body over 3 months, that is how the guy died. He was selling this poison on the black market in Russia it's lethal and about 3 months ago he was found out and fled the country which means he is now missing. I need to know the main facts about the dead guy, and you could find something about Fedor."
"Well... Not your average death then. Okay, the guy's name was Colin Connelly; he was 35; manager of a small business firm in the centre of London; the business was called Byrne's the founder of this firm; he had had leave for a few weeks about three months ago when he went to Russia for a holiday however he didn't go with his family he went alone. That's all I have, his file didn't have much in it."
Sherlock wasn't disappointed by the fact there was very little information to go on, it made this cases more interesting for him.
"Right anything else?"
"No." Lestrade was still only half awake and Sherlock's long coat flew out of the door behind him. He went back to his coffee, knowing that he would get his updates somehow. The police station carried on as usual and idea of Sherlock Holmes being in the station felt like a long time ago.
When Sherlock got home it was about 10am a reasonable time meaning that John would be awake now and that they would have to talk. When he walked into the living room he found that John was sat at the kitchen table reading a newspaper and eating some form of cereal. The detective's heart fell, it felt to him like nothing had ever happened and that he was just carrying on with his life, he watched as the man slowly gazed over the top of the paper looking straight into his shimmering grey eyes, he felt the compassion of the other man's deep blue eyes and then John lowered the paper so that Sherlock could view the whole face of the other man. He timidly walked over to the table and sat in the chair opposite, he wasn't sure on what to say, these situations where completely new to him.
"Hello"
"Hi" Sherlock replied weakly to John's blunt voice.
"I heard every word you said this morning, is it true." John's voice weakening slightly.
"No. I said it for a laugh. Of course I meant every word. You know what I want to say, I - I - just -"
But before Sherlock had found the confidence he normally had to tell John what he needed to say, his lips were sealed by the lips of John who'd shut him up to stop him from loosing any dignity he had left. Although the doctor lent across the table in an awkward position the kissed lasted minutes Sherlock who at first didn't know what John was doing but understood that he knew what he was trying to say and what he was stopping him from doing. Nothing made this moment more perfect for Sherlock. He was lost in the moment until John pulled away slightly gasping for air Sherlock stayed sat there and John decided that he was going to take control and he walked around the table and stood in front of Sherlock. Looking up Sherlock grinned like a fool, he was finally allowing his feelings to get the better of him. He stood up, their bodies close he was slightly taller than John he looked down and then leant down and nuzzled his face into the side of John's neck, he inhaled deeply. A sense of lightheadedness took over. Sherlock's mind was taken as he felt John's fingers slowly run down from his chest to his defined hips, a sensation in his gut made him fluster slightly, it was new to him but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Butterflies filled their stomach's they had no idea what the other was thinking, which was unusual for Sherlock but his mind was elsewhere. Sherlock brought his hand to John's face, a long thin cold finger slowly began to follow one of the bones in his cheek, John shivered slightly to the touch however he was admiring the thin soft lips slowly nipping along the lines of his neck. John began to follow the bone lines on Sherlock's hips although above his suit, John followed allowing his fingers to slip under the rough material of the blazer that he was wearing. His fingers slowly began to grip his shirt, only untucking the bits around his hips so that his pale bare skin was in contact with his slightly rougher hands his hand were warm and in contrast to Sherlock's skin his bones protruded from his body more than his own, his fingers lightly tread over the bones once again. Sherlock bit at his neck harder as a soft spot had been found by John's roaming fingers, Sherlock inhaled deeply once again.
"You should go to bed earlier, I sent you home at 8 which left time for food and pointless TV and enough hours sleep for a normal human to function in the morning" he said with a slight smirk as Lestrade looked up.
"Alright, alright I don't need your wise cracks and I would have had enough sleep if someone hadn't text me at a ridiculous hour of the morning! So what have you found? And what do you need?" Lestrade said knowing that Sherlock wasn't even sorry about waking him.
"Fedor Tolstoy, a Russian scientist who invented a poison that could be implanted into the body and would slowly disintegrate in the body over 3 months, that is how the guy died. He was selling this poison on the black market in Russia it's lethal and about 3 months ago he was found out and fled the country which means he is now missing. I need to know the main facts about the dead guy, and you could find something about Fedor."
"Well... Not your average death then. Okay, the guy's name was Colin Connelly; he was 35; manager of a small business firm in the centre of London; the business was called Byrne's the founder of this firm; he had had leave for a few weeks about three months ago when he went to Russia for a holiday however he didn't go with his family he went alone. That's all I have, his file didn't have much in it."
Sherlock wasn't disappointed by the fact there was very little information to go on, it made this cases more interesting for him.
"Right anything else?"
"No." Lestrade was still only half awake and Sherlock's long coat flew out of the door behind him. He went back to his coffee, knowing that he would get his updates somehow. The police station carried on as usual and idea of Sherlock Holmes being in the station felt like a long time ago.
When Sherlock got home it was about 10am a reasonable time meaning that John would be awake now and that they would have to talk. When he walked into the living room he found that John was sat at the kitchen table reading a newspaper and eating some form of cereal. The detective's heart fell, it felt to him like nothing had ever happened and that he was just carrying on with his life, he watched as the man slowly gazed over the top of the paper looking straight into his shimmering grey eyes, he felt the compassion of the other man's deep blue eyes and then John lowered the paper so that Sherlock could view the whole face of the other man. He timidly walked over to the table and sat in the chair opposite, he wasn't sure on what to say, these situations where completely new to him.
"Hello"
"Hi" Sherlock replied weakly to John's blunt voice.
"I heard every word you said this morning, is it true." John's voice weakening slightly.
"No. I said it for a laugh. Of course I meant every word. You know what I want to say, I - I - just -"
But before Sherlock had found the confidence he normally had to tell John what he needed to say, his lips were sealed by the lips of John who'd shut him up to stop him from loosing any dignity he had left. Although the doctor lent across the table in an awkward position the kissed lasted minutes Sherlock who at first didn't know what John was doing but understood that he knew what he was trying to say and what he was stopping him from doing. Nothing made this moment more perfect for Sherlock. He was lost in the moment until John pulled away slightly gasping for air Sherlock stayed sat there and John decided that he was going to take control and he walked around the table and stood in front of Sherlock. Looking up Sherlock grinned like a fool, he was finally allowing his feelings to get the better of him. He stood up, their bodies close he was slightly taller than John he looked down and then leant down and nuzzled his face into the side of John's neck, he inhaled deeply. A sense of lightheadedness took over. Sherlock's mind was taken as he felt John's fingers slowly run down from his chest to his defined hips, a sensation in his gut made him fluster slightly, it was new to him but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Butterflies filled their stomach's they had no idea what the other was thinking, which was unusual for Sherlock but his mind was elsewhere. Sherlock brought his hand to John's face, a long thin cold finger slowly began to follow one of the bones in his cheek, John shivered slightly to the touch however he was admiring the thin soft lips slowly nipping along the lines of his neck. John began to follow the bone lines on Sherlock's hips although above his suit, John followed allowing his fingers to slip under the rough material of the blazer that he was wearing. His fingers slowly began to grip his shirt, only untucking the bits around his hips so that his pale bare skin was in contact with his slightly rougher hands his hand were warm and in contrast to Sherlock's skin his bones protruded from his body more than his own, his fingers lightly tread over the bones once again. Sherlock bit at his neck harder as a soft spot had been found by John's roaming fingers, Sherlock inhaled deeply once again.