Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Claymore

Chapter 20

Little wisps of snow stuck in John’s beard as he and Clare led their small army to its place of Armageddon.  John hardly noticed as the cold covered his face with an icy sheen, for he would soon be in battle and his skills he acquired as a Yoma would be put to the test. Even before they reached their future battleground, John could smell the enemy. Raising his hand, John ordered the army to stop for the night and once it was dark, he would order a scout to size up their foes.

Contrary to popular belief, war is not as active as it would seem, for it is fraught with waiting and stalking, which leads to boredom and stress.  John paced back and forth to keep from the cold from freezing up his limbs, for they could not light a fire, due to the fact that it would lead the enemy right to them. In order to keep his mind from the exhaustive boredom and anticipation of the fighting ahead of them, John thought about Sherlock and chuckled to himself, for he knew that even though he had left Sherlock behind for his own safe keeping, he also knew that Sherlock was bound to be boiling mad. Well, he would have to make it up to Sherlock at a later date. John smiled hoping that his punishment would involve a riding crop. “God, life had been so dreary before he met Sherlock,” John thought, as he practiced defensive moves with his sword. He thought of Sherlock that first day in the lab and he inwardly smiled at the memory of Sherlock winking at him and saying, “The name’s Sherlock Holmes, 221b Baker Street.” As John continued to train, he felt a chill of foreboding pass over him, “John, you are just imagining things, for Sherlock is safe back at the village,” he thought as he thrust his sword in front of him in a virtual killing strike.

John made his way through the camp joking and encouraging the men in an effort to keep their moral up. After he had done this John thought of the first time he and Sherlock made love, hoping the memory would keep him warm, he allowed his mind to recall ever detail. God, the smell, the physical sensations, the beauty of that day all came back to John in a rush.

Sherlock was in one of his black moods staring moodily out the window. John watched Sherlock as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair his brows knitted together.

“Sherlock, are you okay?” John asked as he leaned forward in his chair.

Sherlock scowled. “It’s nothing. This bandage is bothering me that’s all.”

Sherlock was recovering from a gunshot wound and John was concerned. He walked over to where Sherlock sat. “Sherlock let me take a look.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Fine, John take a look, if that’s what it will take for you to stop yammering on.”

John lifted up the back of Sherlock’s shirt; the bandage had a spot of light seepage coming through. John gently removed the bandage. “Sherlock, just leave your shirt up. I am going to get a couple of things from my bag.”

When John came back he washed out the wound and applied another bandage. Sherlock’s white skin was perfect and John’s fingers lingered longer than he had intended. Quickly, John pulled his hand back.

When Sherlock finally spoke, John nearly jumped out of his skin. “John,” Sherlock whispered. “I think you need to readjust the bandage, it is bothering me.

John frowned.  He lifted up Sherlock’s shirt again. The bandage seemed fine to him. “Sherlock, everything looks fine.”

“John, do you think I am the most observant person you’ve ever known?”

For some reason John shivered, Sherlock’s low dulcet voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Sherlock, yes you are the most observant person I have ever met.  Why are you asking me this?”

Sherlock slipped off his shirt and stood before John. John didn’t back up as Sherlock stepped into his personal space.

John’s heart was pounding as Sherlock locked eyes with him; Sherlock’s eyes looked almost black they were so dilated. There wasn’t a sound in the room except the music that blared from Sherlock’s computer, it was Holiday by Greenday.