The Only Thing Worth Fighting For

Chapter 6

"I'm telling you, it was Ivor," Sherlock insisted over the phone, one finger in his mouth as he nibbled at the skin around his nail. "I don't care what his alibi is, it's wrong."

John walked into the room with Rosie in his good arm and looked over at his best friend. He placed Rosie into her bouncer and wandered to the kettle, clicking it on before starting on two mugs of tea.

"If you're going to be dramatic about it then I will end our contract," Sherlock sighed. "You asked for my help and I am giving it to you."

John listened intently as he carried Sherlock's mug first, before returning for his own and settling into his chair.

"Thank you. Payments can be made via cheque," Sherlock grumbled, before disconnecting the call and looking over at John with a smile. "You're up early."

"Hmm," John shrugged. "Who was that? You have a case?"

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively and sneered, "Fourth this morning. Came in from the blog."

"You never take ones from the blog. They don't fall high on your boredom scale," John smiled.

"Well, I can't exactly leave the house and leave you and Rosie alone and we still need the money," Sherlock grumbled.

John winced at the thought that Sherlock was staying around due to his inability to care for his own daughter and felt the anger rising slowly. Trampling it down, the doctor sighed and looked at Rosie who was happily bouncing.

"The health visitor will be around today for a weigh-in," John explained as he sipped at his drink. "They've pretty much left us alone but now she's six weeks they want to do a quick check to see how she is."

"Fine," Sherlock shrugged. "Do you want me to be here?"

"You can stay if you like, but don't feel like you need to," John mumbled, feeling the frosty atmosphere between them suddenly. "Everything alright?"

Sherlock nodded and stood to his full height, before walking to his bedroom and closing the door firmly.

The detective threw himself down onto his bed with a flourish; his mind palace was quivering with irritation at his intrusive thoughts, and had resulted in the low level nausea which Sherlock hadn't experienced since his night in Prague shortly after the fall.

He had been on the hunt for one of Moriarty's minions who was masquerading as a wealthy hotelier; Sherlock had taken on one of his disguises and rented a room for the night, waiting until the guests had all settled into sleep before sneaking up to the penthouse apartment where the man resided. Sherlock had picked the lock and turned his head to smile at John, remembering sadly that John wasn't there and he was truly alone. He opened the door and was attacked by the assassin who quickly gained the upper hand. Sherlock fought back, clawing and employing every trick in his knowledge of various martial arts to subdue the man until he could tie him up and have a proper chat with him.

After learning all of the information he could, Sherlock injected the criminal with a syringe of dirty heroin he had cooked up himself. Watching the man's eyes roll back had caused a chip from his humanity to fall away, without John there to put it back. He cleaned up after himself and positioned the body accordingly before sneaking back to his own room and lying on the expensive mattress, thinking of home and John.

It had become clear to Sherlock that he had an attraction to John very early on; from that very first night in Angelo's, Sherlock had found the doctor handsome and kind. He was genuinely interesting, whereas other people of average intelligence normally bored Sherlock within seconds. The fact that John seemed rather pleased to be in Sherlock's presence didn't hinder their friendship either and eventually, Sherlock felt feelings he had never known before. Lying on the bed in Prague, he entered his mind palace and enjoyed the sensations of being surrounded by John's warmth and scent.