It was at a dinner on his lunch break when John met him. He could tell the way Sherlock had- the stance and the hair and the slight burn around the neck and wrists but pale the rest of the way up to his shorts sleeve, all obvious now that Sherlock had explained but things he never would have picked up otherwise. He sat down on a bar stool next to John and ordered, scratching idly at the back of his sunburnt neck as he waited.
"Afghanistan?" John asked. The man next to him turned, curious.
"Sorry?"
"Short hair, military stance, burnt around wrist and neck but not-" John cut off, realizing he sounded just like Sherlock. "Sorry."
"No, its fine," the man said, waving his apology away. "Iraq actually, just returned. Tom. Thomas Grace."
John shrugged before taking the hand that he offered him. "I was close. Only said Afghanistan 'cause I was there myself. John Watson. Well, Captain John Watson I suppose."
A waitress set Toms plate in front of him but he didn’t seem to notice. "Captain? Got a little rank then. So tell me Captain, what’d you do in the army?"
John blinked a few times, wondering if he was imagining the flirtatious tone or not. He took a sip of his drink before responding. "Doctor. I was an army doctor before I was shot and shipped home. What about you? What did you do?"
"I was a corporal, I did whatever people told me too."
"Good at taking orders, are you then?" John joked. Tom laughed.
"Why, are you good at giving them?" Okay, now that was definitely flirtatious. He had two options, John realized. He could blow it off as a misinterpretation, pay his bill, and leave. Or he could take a chance. John thought it over in his head, taking in Tom’s appearance for the first time. He was tall and thin, a beanpole really, with cropped red hair and tons of freckles. Not unattractive, but not really somebody he would usually go for. But there was something about the way he laughed and smiled that made John think why the hell not.
John licked his lips nervously. "Look, I-umm, I was wondering- and I apologize if I interpreted things wrong- but would you like to go on a date tomorrow night?"
Tom smiled. "Love to." John grinned relieved and scribbled his number messily onto a napkin before going up to pay his bill.
***
Sherlock ran down three flights of stairs, coat billowing after him. This one was connected to Moriarty, he was sure of it, and Sherlock couldn’t let him get away. Sherlock still had his gun though, while the guy he was chasing was forced to leave his on the roof. Still, they were coming out into the street now, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to use it for fear of hitting somebody.
He pulled out his mobile with one hand, trying to awkwardly type with one hand while not losing him.
Need help. Come at once. SH
John laughed as Thomas told him a story about him and a couple of his army mates, loving the reminiscing factor. John made a mental note to keep in touch with Tom even if they broke up. He didn’t have many army buddies left, and he needed somebody to talk about those days to.
His phone beeped and John pulled it out, groaning when he saw it was a text from Sherlock. He looked up apologetically at Thomas.
"Do you mind? It’s my flat mate, he’s watching my daughter, and I’m really not sure I can trust him alone, much less the both of them."
Tom gestured for him to go ahead and look as John opened the message. "How old is she?" he asked.
"Just over a year old. But she’s not the one I’m worried about. So far she’s never accidently burnt down the flat, unlike him."
Tom laughed, probably thinking John was joking. John read the message and groaned. Shit...
Is Gwen okay?
Sherlock barely read the message as they both hit the streets, the first man running and dodging between people, Sherlock pushing them away in attempt to catch up.
Fine, with Mrs. H, but he knows about her and she could be targeted. HELP
John smiled and attempted to brush the first text off and continue with his date. He told Thomas a bit about Sherlock and Mary, but mostly talked about Gwen. He seemed enchanted by tales of the young girl, or maybe he was just content to see Johns face light up when he talked about her. Either way, John would have been content to talk about her forever if he hadn’t gotten that second text from Sherlock. A string of swears came out under his breath.
The criminal turned onto a main street, quickly gaining distance. Much longer and he might lose him, definitely if the man turned onto any side streets. Suddenly Sherlock realized where he was. It was several blocks down, but by the time the text sent and he had time to react they would be there.
Outside. Tackle him. NOW.
John got up immediately without question, ignoring Thomas's is everything alrights and what’s going on, are you okay. He weaved his way through the tables, trying not to plow any waiters down on the way outside, ignoring the host’s angry yells about him not paying. By the time he got outside the man had just passed the door. John broke into a run, catching the criminal quickly and throwing him to the ground. John pinned him to the ground, people around them backing away and whispering nervously. After about twenty seconds Sherlock stopped next to him, breathing heavily.
"Good work John, thank you."
"Care to tell me what’s going on?" John asked, getting up and dragging the criminal with him so he wouldn’t escape. Sherlock pulled a zip tie from his pocket and fastened it around the man’s wrists.
"Roger Black. Expert assassin and informant. Reports to Moriarty. While he was here murdering people he looked in at me, and through me found you and through you discovered Gwen. I couldn’t let him report back to Moriarty and put you and Gwen in danger." Sherlock checked his watch quickly. "Lestrade should be here soon to pick him up."
Just then Tom joined John on the sidewalk, a bit confused. John smiled and laughed. "Tom, meet my mad flat mate who’s supposed to be watching my daughter but instead thinks it fun to chase down criminals. Sherlock, this is Tom, my date."
