I Am Offering This Scarf

Chapter 5- The Tattoo

We walk down the stairs (me trying hard not to trip on the back of the coat) and stop in front of the dark front door.

"A new page, John." He says quietly.

I look up at him, confused.

"It's a metaphor John. We're turning the page. Things'll be different now..." He turns and touches his lips to mine.

"I hope so."

"The Game Is On, John." He whispers against my lips. He straightens himself out and holds his hand out for me to take.

I grab it.

He opens the door before I have a chance to say or do anything else. Flashes spot my eyes instantly as we try to make our way through the thick crowd. Questions, all of the same nature, are being constantly thrown our way:

"Are the headlines true?"

"Are the famous Sherlock Holmes and John Watson finally together?"

Finally? Has everyone been expecting this?

"I see that you're holding hands, is that merely to get through the crowd or something more?"

"Is the picture we saw in the paper correct? Or is it another crazed fan gone wild with photoshop?"

I tug on the edge of Sherlock's collar to get his attention. The corner of his mouths lifts up as he looks down at me. It's to noisy for words so he just quirks his brow in question.

"Should we answer them?" I mouth. I'm becoming faintly aware that the crowd around us is getting thicker. We'll never get off Baker Street.

Sherlock nods his head vigorously to my earlier question and hugs me against him, smashing his lips to mine. He's bent over me and I have no choice but to be the arc.

Everyone on the street quiets for a second. A mere beat of surprise. They believed we were together, but not that we would do this.

The street near erupts. Me and Sherlock pull away from each other with wicked smiles on our faces, camera flashes blinding us. We push towards the curb and hail a cab that had just been about to drive past.

We jump in and close the car door quickly. "Bart's Hospital." Sherlock says without letting the grin melt.

We collapse into a fit of laughter.

Clutching at my sides and out of breath I say, "That...Has to be...The weirdest thing...I've ever...Done."

Our laughter subsides and Sherlock wipes his eyes. "It was great though..."

I roll my eyes but my face goes red. "Yea it was..."

Sherlock smirks, knowingly. "I'm totally a great kisser."

I cover my face with my hands as it heats to an all time high. "Sherlock we are not having this conversation..."

He shrugs, ruffling his coat. "If you prefer. But I am."

***

We pull up in front of Bart's Hospital and let ourselves inside. It's quiet in this building, such a change from outside 221B.

We find Molly in the morgue area. She's examining, what looks like, to be a newer one. The rings around his eyes say he hasn't slept for a while and his short nails say he's been nervous. Sounds kinda like he was threatened. He hasn't been sleeping- waiting for the killer to come. And right when he didn't expect it- BAM. He's dead. But how? I move around to the other side of his body and see a bullet hole in the side of his neck. Wasn't inflicted upon himself. No, not suicide, in fact, this looks a lot like the Blind Banker case. He's not right handed. His left hand has callouses from where multiple pencils and pens have rubbed. And who shoots himself in the neck? "So who did it?" I finally ask aloud after about a minute of contemplation.