Be My Starlight

Planning

POV- John

It is about one month to the wedding date, everyone is excited for us. We finally have most everything planned out and ready, the only things left to get are our tuxes. Molly insisted on coming with us to the store and is happily chattering away.

"That one."

I turn to Sherlock when he speaks, the first time all day. He is running the fabric of a striking midnight-blue suit between his fingers, admiring its beauty. An attendant comes over, leading us back to the dressing rooms. I spot a silvery-white suit while waiting for Sherlock to change, heading into the changing room next to him. He still hasn't emerged by the time I am finished, though Molly is waiting eagerly to see what we picked.

"That is beautiful John."

"Thanks."

Sherlock finally comes out, looking rather nervously between us. Molly audibly inhales, not taking her eyes off of Sherlock. I turn and am struck speechless, no words can describe how I feel.

"Sherlock you...its...thats absolutely brilliant."

Still awe-struck, I am surprised when he steps forward and kisses me.

"You look...amazing my Otter, I love it."

"Yours is stunning John. I love it."

I had honestly forgotten I was wearing a tux, too distracted by Sherlocks beauty. The colour brings out the blue in his eyes, making them apear more startling. Molly is chattering away again, walking ahead of us merrily. We carry our purchases outside, turning our backs to the wind as we call a cab. Sherlock, although his mood has improved significantly, is still being moody. When the cabbie takes a rather sharp turn into traffic, Sherlock lets out a string of profanity that surprises even me.

"Are you okay?"

"We're going to be late."

"Late for what Sherlock?"

"I'm on a case!"

We drop Molly of in front of her flat, me promising to text her later to tell her how Sherlock is doing. I turn to him now, Lestrade has said nothing of a case recently.

"What's going on?"

"Not here John."

He is trying to be quiet, though I can tell all he wants is to be yelling. I lace my fingers through his when he starts tapping morse on the worn seat, wincing when he jerks away.

"I'm sorry."

I look up at him, those are the nearly non-existant words in his vocabulary. He never apologises, ever.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm...I'm fine."

His face is flushed, he flinches away when I lay my hand across his forehead to check his temperature. Normal. Obviously something is bothering him, though I can't expect to hear of it until later. I almost regret my desicion to reach out when Sherlock locks his fingers around mine again.

"Together?"

"Together."

We step out of the cab hand in hand, squinting against the harsh lighting of the suddenly apearing sun. Lestrade hurriedly ushers us into the building, something important. Sherlock lets go of my hand suddenly, noticing something on the walls.

"What is this from?"

"It looks to be some form of cleaning agent residue, someone tried to cover this up. You can see here how the colour is slightly changed from the rest of the paint, an indicator of a bleach based solvent. Based on the way it runs down the wall..."

Everyone in the room is speechless, as we always are during one of his speaches. He suddenly turns to us as if realizing we are here for the first time.

"Where did the body go?"

"Already taken away."

"Where was she found?"

Lestrade leads us down the short, carpeted hall to the sitting room. The room is a mess, clutter littering everything.

"No one lives here I presume?"

"Not for the past seven years. Someone heard a scream and called the police."

"The dust is deeper over here, showing a lack of use while the dust here..."

He walks through to the kitchen, leaving us no choice but to follow.

"...is more disturbed. I'm sure you have neglected to check the contents of this room?"

"Why would we?"

Lestrade regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth; we all know Sherlock is going to go off on a rant about the incompetence of the Scotland Yard now.

" 'Why would we'! Why wouldnt you? The settlement of the dust is a clear indicator that someone has in fact been living illigaly in this house! You already trampled the carpets, tampering with evedence again. I should expect no less from the likes of you and your team!"

He continues yelling for another few minutes before returning to his inspections.

"The dust here shows that a back enterance was used most often, prehaps something over..."

Sherlock walks out again, following his trail of breadcrumbs to show an upstairs window.

"...here. It was this one."

"Impossible. This is on the second story Mr. Holmes."

"Whomever it was used the lattice boarding along the side of the house to scale it, leading him to this very window."

"And why would they do that?"

"I don't bloody know! Give me a moment of silence please!"

We quiet, watching Sherlock enter his mind palace. One of Lestrades men walk in, boots loud on the creaking wooden floor.

"Shut up!"

No one moves, afraid to breathe for fear of upsetting him.

"Ive got it. We're done here, case closed."

Lestrade follows Sherlock and I out, pressing for answers. Sherlock finally realizes his presence and quickly explains what he has found. He keeps muttering to himself as we leave, something about the overbearing simplicity of the case. The ride back to the flat is uneventful, though it is by no means boring. Sherlock keeps listing things off about the case, asking me for confermation on certain statements. We walk together into the flat, Sherlock still muttering quietly. I put on the kettle and pull out my laptop, planning on starting a new blog post. The water is boiling now though, so I need to get up and make our tea. When I get back, Sherlock is sitting upside down in my seat. He smiles when he sees me, quickly slipping back into his mind palace. I watch him carefully, the whole mind palace thing still scares me. Especialy after he got stuck the first time. He suddenly snaps back to me, grinning boyishly when I catch his eye.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

He moves to the couch, allowing me room to sit back in my chair. I am surprised when he comes back over, somehow managing to curl up enough to fit across my lap in the chair. I sigh contentedly, this is my Sherlock. The side of him very few ever glimpse, but he has let me into his world quickly. I kiss him gently on his neck, laughing when he catches my ear in a kiss of his own.

"I love you my Otter."

"You too, my Hedgehog."