A Case of Identity - Chapter fourteen (14/23)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 part one Chapter 15 part two Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23
At dinner, Sherlock and John shared their table with Ben and Anne. Ben had left their table a minute earlier to get some more food. Anne smiled shyly towards John several times but remained silent. Maybe she was awed by Sherlock. However, John had no time to pay further attention to the matter, since he had his hands full with his friend once more.
"Eat!" John ordered impatiently.
Sherlock pulled a face. "John, please. I already ate breakfast yesterday and I had some scones this afternoon. Just to please you."
John held his gaze. "I'm serious, Sherlock. You will eat. It won't help you to behave like a twelve year old again."
"John."
"Don't 'John' me. We agreed on one proper meal, remember?"
"Humph."
Sulking detective.
"Stop it," John warned him.
Sherlock silently acknowledged defeat and put some food on his plate. He constantly watched John until John gave him a nod to tell him that the amount of food qualified as a proper meal. Sherlock gave John a dramatically faked smile and jabbed one of his potatoes with his fork. He purposely chewed it in a massively exaggerated way, which John pretended to ignore.
Three exaggerated chews later, Sherlock's phone went off. Someone was calling him.
Sherlock shot a quick glance on the display and rolled his eyes. "Mycroft," he hissed quietly. "I better take this one."
"You will come back immediately afterwards and you'll clean your plate," John told him with a serious face.
Sherlock just gave him an annoyed look and rushed out of the room.
"Overgrown man-child," John muttered darkly under his breath.
Anne watched him amused ."You really are sweet together you know?"
"No," John replied dubiously.
"It's kind of funny how you are tiptoeing around each other all the time. The way you're concerned about him, and how he seeks your approval," Anne smiled shyly. "He is different when you're around. Like he is feeling "in place"."
"Hmmm," John answered deliberately because he didn't know what to reply.
"The way you two are bickering is different. It's never hateful. Passionate, yes, but never hateful. It always is loving. So cute. It gives me hope."
That was unexpected. It gave him no more than a headache.
Doctor, Detective, Blogger, Marriage Saver. God help me.
Anne giggled. "He hates the way Howard is watching you."
"Who doesn't," John replied, letting out a sigh. His eyes flickered towards Howards table, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Cameron and fortunately didn't pay attention.
Anne reached towards John and put a hand on his arm. "Sherlock really does love you, you know. He's just socially awkward. Sometimes people put up walls, not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down," she smiled warmly. "Keep faith! The two of you will be fine."
Sherlock's return spared John an answer but Anne's statement took him by surprise nevertheless.
Scraps of conversations and thoughts were whirling rapidly in his mind. "You will have to have some faith in me". "Unconditional, unrestricted and absolute". "Keep faith! You will be fine". "So this is about true love then" . "He does love you".
Anne gave him another smile and excused herself.
"What happened? You look as though you'd seen a ghost," Sherlock inquired with a concerned look.
John's head was spinning. "Nothing," he hedged and decided to go for a diversionary maneuver. "What did your brother want?"
Sherlock studied John's face intensely but he didn't inquire any further. "He has planned our vacation," Sherlock replied through gritted teeth.
John turned his head quickly. "What?"
"The week after Christmas. He called to make sure we're not going to talk ourselves out of it."
John looked at him in disbelief. "He can't be serious! Does he not have a crisis to solve in Korea or maybe in China or something? Something important?"
"Multitasking," Sherlock replied dryly. He leaned forward towards John, lowering his voice. "At the risk of making you angry again, John, I will skip the rest of the dinner. I promise to have cold supper later, to make it up to you."
"What are you going to do?" John replied surprised.
"Youare going to have a nice chit chat. Try to find out more about the suspects.Iam going to break into the office and the other's bedrooms. Oh, don't worry, there are people around you. Howard is not going to harass you here."
I am going to break into the office and other's bedrooms.
John caught his breath. His skin went cold at the words, which Sherlock had uttered slowly in a tone of concentrated resolution. He seemed to see every possible result of such an action - the detection, the capture, the honored career ending in irreparable failure and disgrace.
"For Heaven's sake, Sherlock, think about what you are doing," John cried quietly for fear of someone overhearing them.
"John, I really do not have the time to discuss this," he replied impatiently.
But John was determined and looked at him sternly.
Sherlock sighed heavily. "John, I have given it every consideration. I am never precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and indeed so dangerous a course if any other were possible. Let us look at the matter clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will admit that the action is morally justifiable, though technically criminal."
John turned it over in his mind. "Yes, hypothetically."
Sherlock bended his head towards John conspiratorially and continued, whispering. "Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable I have only to consider the question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should not lay much stress upon this when afriendis in most desperate need of his help?"
John looked at him closely. "You will be in such a false position."
"Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way of gathering evidence - at least not as quickly. Everyone is here. This is my chance. Between ourselves, John, it's a sporting duel between this murderer and me. My self-respect and my reputation are concerned to fight it to a finish."
"Could we not get a warrant and legalize it?" John tried weakly.
Sherlock shook his head. "Hardly on the evidence."
"Well, I don't like it, but I suppose it must be," John replied darkly after a moment. He didn't like it - these sporting duels between his friend and the criminal masterminds of the world when Sherlock's ego went to all-time highs. At least, this one was no Moriarty, John thought. Just a criminal. Besides, Sherlock enjoyed himself far too much when it came to danger and illegal actions. There was no way that he would leave the man out of his eyes. "When do we start?"
"You are not coming," Sherlock replied with a serious face.
John frowned at him. "Then you are not going."
"You can't help me," Sherlock exclaimed stubbornly.
"How do you know that? You can't tell what may happen. Anyway, my resolution is set. Other people beside you have self-respect and even reputations. You're not going to break into that office - or anywhere - alone. There is a killer on the loose. I'm not going to play your desperate boyfriend while you are having fun."
"John," Sherlock said desperately.
"No."
"John."
John was determined. "No."
"Fine. You can come with me. We will interview the suspects tomorrow, then." Sherlock had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, well, John, so be it. We share the same room, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell. You know, that I have always had an idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal. See here!" He took a neat little leather case out of his pocket, and opening it under the table, he carefully exhibited a number of shining instruments. "This is a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with every modern improvement which the march of civilization demands. Everything is in order." Sherlock was thrilled to bits.
He had no doubt that his friend would have been the greatest criminal of them all, but he didn't want to add fuel to the flames. Fortunately, Sherlock had decided to become a good man. John also didn't want to know how the leather case had found his way into Sherlock's possession in the first place. "Good. What excuse do we have to leave dinner?"
Sherlock looked at John innocently. "Make up sex. We had a row."
"What?"
"It's a believable cover."
"We cannot just abandon dinner. Everyone will notice," John protested.
"I fancy you as my dessert," Sherlock replied with an evil grin. He looked like the tiger that prepared to capture his prey. "Besides, I want everyone to notice. In some cases, being in plain sight is the best cover you can create. People see, but they never observe."
He slowly straightened up again and adjusted his position towards John. He looked up and met John's eyes with evident curiosity in his expression. "Don't worry. No one is going to mistake my intentions. I have a little experience myself and I have observed people doing this."
John stared back, struggling to think clearly. "Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked alarmed.
Okay, maybe now was the time to panic, after all.
Sherlock reached out his right hand and swiftly brushed John's cheeks with his fingertips the way he had done the day before. His movements were achingly slow, leaving a tingling sensation on John's skin.
Sherlock's fingers carefully traced their way along John's neck, deliberately touching him only lightly. The gentle touch didn't fail to have the desired effect. The well-considered teasing of Sherlock's fingertips made his skin crawl.
No, not maybe. Now was definitely the time to panic.
Unfortunately, John was frozen to the spot. No one had ever touched him like that. All he could do was listen to the uneven pounding of his heart, staring at his friend in astonishment and getting lost in those eyes again. And he knew that the bastard knew, because Sherlock never broke eye contact.
Sherlock slowly placed his left hand on the inside of John's left thigh. John tensed immediately but he never moved an inch. Sherlock stopped the fingertips of his right hand and placed his arm on the back of John's chair, leaning towards him very consciously.
"No. Not trying," Sherlock whispered in his ear in a low voice.
The deep baritone voice was seductive, passing as a bedroom voice. Sherlock's left hand started to mimic the movements he had performed before with his right, stroking the inside of John's thigh teasingly. His touch ever so gentle as before.
At this point, John was only vaguely aware that there were other people in the room.
Sherlock slowly bent his head, closing the small distance that was left between them. He breathed softly against John's neck, before he placed a soft kiss against it. His lips were barely touching John's skin, sending shivers down John's spine.
By now, John had lost all train of thought. Instinctively, he had closed his eyes. He was very much reduced to his basic senses and only simple orders were formed in his mind like "swallow", "breathe in" and "breathe out". The pleasurable sensation at his neck was captivating his senses. A soft moan started to develop in his throat and John had to bite his lip in order to remain silent. His heart was crashing in his chest.
"I think this should do the trick, John. Don't you think?" Sherlock breathed against John's neck.
With his best friend breathing against his skin, John found it extremely difficult to form coherent sentences. Therefore, he simply replied with a hazy "Hmmm".
Sherlock gave him one last long and intense look.
"Let's go then," Sherlock answered satisfied. He grabbed John's hand and pulled him up, before dragging him along behind himself.
John followed him reluctantly. A part of him tried to get a clear head again as soon as possible, the other part of him pouted about the sudden ending of whatever had happened moments ago. For someone with little to no experience he was very good. Extraordinary actually, and although he mostly associated his friend with similar adjectives, this took him by surprise.
It might have been an act, but for all he knew, he just experienced similar to a public foreplay.
This was going to be quite embarrassing at breakfast, John thought. Everyone believed them to have had an intimate night. He could imagine how their fellow students would focus their eyes on them again.
John did his best to match Sherlock's pace.
They were moving quickly but without attracting attention. Sherlock knew his way well through the labyrinth of corridors and staircases.
"What do you hope to find in the office?"John whispered quietly, after making sure that no one was following them.
"The blackmailing affair. How is it connected to the murder? Why was the letter found in the office?" Sherlock replied curtly.
"Strange indeed," John wondered. "But does it have to be connected? Could it not be a coincidence?"
"I think you hit the nail on the head. You improve all the time, John," Sherlock answered, smiling one of his genuine, "John-only"- smiles.
"Two crimes at the same time. You must be giddy with pleasure," John teased him.
Sherlock let him get away with it. "I'm actually starting to enjoy myself," he grinned.
Suddenly John saw him halt, listen intently, and then in an instant he darted towards the nearby staircase, motioning him to do the same. It was only when John had joined him there that he heard what had alarmed his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into the measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching.
"Sorry, John. I think I am going to have you here and now."
He must have gotten him wrong. "What?"
In reply, Sherlock quickly pushed John a few steps on the stairs, so that their heads were on the same height.
"There's nowhere to hide. Why don't we go upstairs?" John hissed. Despite their precarious situation he realized too late, that his request could have been understood ambiguously.
"I have no intention to do so, John. Remember what I told you about creating a cover in plain sight," Sherlock replied darkly. He didn't give John the time to gather his thoughts. Sherlock quickly pinned him with his back against the wall, leaning his weight against him. He had captured John's hands, which were trapped in Sherlock's above his head.
John stared at him with wide eyes. "Get off me." For a moment, the soldier in John automatically tried to disengage himself, but Sherlock's hands and his weight refused to let him move so much as an inch. He stopped wriggling, preventing himself to unintentionally use techniques of his army days. After all, Sherlock wasn't the enemy.
"Close your eyes, John," he demanded with a firm voice that allowed no argument. "Please, quickly."
John muttered curses under his breath, but submitted in the end nonetheless. He knew when a cause was lost. Reluctantly, he did as Sherlock asked and closed his eyes, waiting in the dark for what felt like an eternity, bowing to the inevitable.
The sensation in his stomach was almost unbearable. Without being able to look, his olfactory sense sharpened. Sherlock's smell did his bit. He shivered involuntarily. Their hands were intertwining. When Sherlock's warm lips finally pressed delicately against the left corner of his mouth, John's breath caught in his throat. His heart skipped the usual beats and he started to feel lightheaded again. He deliberately took a few deep breaths through his nose. Sherlock brushed his lips against John's chin and continued his way up to his ear lobes and back. By now, he had a sketchy idea of the things Sherlock might have done with Victor Trevor. He had never thought he was to witness a firsthand testimony though. Sherlock's broad knowledge of anatomy certainly proved very useful. Eventually, Sherlock pressed his lips against John's, parting them slightly. Sherlock's soft breath against his skin and the gentle touch of his lips made John tremble slightly. However, he stood perfectly still, eyes closed.
Bloody hell! Where had his friend learned to play Casanova like that?
The footsteps were fading rapidly, now.
A moment later Sherlock drew back, resting his forehead against John's. "I think she's gone," he said, catching his breath.
John slowly opened his eyes. "Yeah, probably," he panted slightly and tried to calm down.
They stayed that way a little longer than absolutely necessary, their hands still intertwined above John's head.
"Well, let's give it another try then," Sherlock exclaimed at last, turning around quickly and releasing John from his grip.
"Right," John answered and followed his friend at a slower pace. He was a bit off balance and needed to touch the wall from time to time in order to stabilize himself.
"No one is going to mistake my intentions." No, certainly not. At least, there could have been no doubt to whomever had passed them that they had just been a couple, snogging on the staircase. However, snogging didn't really cover it.
Sherlock shot a quick glance at his friend. John could have sworn that the corners of his mouth had twitched slightly.
"Everything all right with you, John?" Sherlock asked innocently.
"Woozy", was all John managed to answer.
"Do you suffer from sudden hypotension or was it my kissing experience?" Sherlock teased him, obviously pleased with himself.
John mumbled something like "forgot to breathe" and "took me by surprise" in response.
Sherlock grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I warned you beforehand this time."
Pain in the ass, John thought half-heartedly, but he continued to follow him in silence.
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