I Am Offering This Scarf

Chapter 6- "The Night Is Still"

//Ayyyye. So guess what? I told you I'm thickening the plot right? Well, you guess didn't come here for plot. I know you didn't- don't lie. But you did come here for some effin awesome JohnLock. So here. I wrote in a Fanfiction-type-thing. Ha know, feels. The works. You don't like scenes like this? Get out. NOW READ. ;D//

Or maybe I should say a tattoo. Sherlock won't be able to recognize it. After we solved the Blind Banker case he said "I cracked this code, all they have to do is pick up another book." Well, it seems that they've found a new code and a new tattoo. It's the symbol they put outside 221B.

"That's not exactly what I was expecting..." Sherlock mumbles.

I poke him in the side. "They put this symbol outside our apartment right after we solved Blind Banker. They've picked up another book."

He purses his lips. "And found a new name." He zips the bag over the feet again. The glossed black bag shines under the buzzing fluorescent lights.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. "Um, Sherlock, I know we came here so you could play with dead people, but that's not really my forte. I think I'm gonna go upstairs..."

He turns and kisses me on the forehead with a semi-concerned look. "Have fun."

The corner of my lip lifts up. "I'll try."

***

I wander around the corridors of the hospital, a few people waving, some not able to. I was just like them a few years ago. Without any hope I would get better. I helped the country and all I got for it was a psychosomatic limp and some so-called 'PTSD' hand tremors. I really should thank Mike. Without him saying, "You're the second person to say that to me today," I never would be here. Not in the hospital, per se, more like at 221B, or with Sherlock. God, I have no idea what I would have been doing if I hadn't met him.

I continue to meander through the building, eventually ending up in the room Sherlock prefers, other than the morgue, of course. The lab, I guess you could call it. I go over to his microscope and sit down on his black stool. There's nothing under in the slide but I can see how Sherlock finds comfort in this type of thing. Seeing everything under a microscope. That's Sherlock even outside of this room. Maybe that's why he likes it? Of all the things he can't control in the outside world; all the people who don't think, the murders, crimes, he gets away from it in here. Don't get me wrong, he loves the last two, and, to be honest, so do I, but a quiet room with a microscope and some skin samples could be mollifying. And again I'm overwhelmed with the deep admiration. But there's never really a great way to express it. He's so, for lack of a better word, mysterious. Dangerous. He attracts danger, that's just him.

I slide off his chair and fold my hands behind my back while I examine the rest of the room. Gloves and various syringes coat one table. Something tells me I don't want to know what those are used for. From what I can see, there are at least four microscopes in the room, including his. A lot of stuff happened in this room. It's where we solved a lot of cases.

"I don't think alone protects me anymore." He says quietly behind me.

I jump and turn around at the same time, grasping at my pocket. "Jesus Sherlock!"

He smirks. "I'm glad you didn't bring your gun with you. I would be Swiss cheese."

I slouch my shoulders and look up at him. "Sorry. Just kinda stressed out. This place hasn't ever gotten to me until today." I turn around and wave my hand at all the stuff on one of the tables. "It's really amazing. I can see how you find sanctuary here."

To my surprise, he wraps his arms around me from the back and puts his lips next my ear. "Not much anymore John. I'd much rather off be doing something with you..."