Lost and Found - SEQUEL TO SHERLOCK'S SECRET

CHAPTER 9

John remained in his chair for eternity, his mind racing with thoughts he could not quieten. What was he going to do? Sherlock was being threatened, more seriously than ever before. The very thought of Sherlock in danger made his stomach clench with anxiety.

The most important thing for him to do right now was to find the identity of the person threatening Sherlock.

With a new found energy he opened up his laptop, intent on going through old case notes in hopes of triggering some memory that might help him.

After a half hour of searching his blog, he had found nothing of relevance. He spent another half hour searching his unpublished case notes, but to no avail. It seemed that there would be no help from that avenue.

Sighing and slamming his laptop shut, John jumped at the sound of Sherlock exiting his room.

"John? Where are you?"

"In the lounge room, dear," he replied, slightly panic stricken. He had to find and hide the letter from Sherlock. He couldn't have him worrying about this, on top of everything else.

"I slept for ages, I swear. I think I've aged. You'll have to tell me honestly whether I look like I've grown older while I was asleep." Sherlock's voice grew louder as he meandered down the hall toward John. Just as Sherlock came into view, he found the letter and promptly shoved it into his pocket. It didn't escape the Detective's notice, though.

"What was that?" he asked, brow slightly furrowed with suspicion.

"What was what? Oh, the-the letter I shoved in my pocket? Nothing. It was a bill." John cursed internally at how sketchy his words came out. There was no way Sherlock thought he was telling the truth.

"If it was just a bill, why did you hide it?"

John sighed, trying to buy himself some time. "It's just a big one, that's all. We don't have as much money coming in anymore and I didn't want to worry you." What he had said wasn't completely untrue.

"Oh okay, love. I'm sorry you're stressed, but it will work out. I'll ask Lestrade for some cases."

This idea didn't make John all that happy either. "But Sherl, you need to rest. We can make do for a little while yet. Please, just trust me."

"Nonsense," Sherlock chuckled. "I promise, John, I feel fine - or, at least, well enough to take on some simple cases."

"Okay, okay... I guess we really could use the money. But promise you'll let me help?" John looked up at Sherlock with a childish grin on his face, pleading to be taken along on Sherlock's adventures.

"Of course," Sherlock purred, closing the distance between them and wrapping John in his arms. "I'd be lost without my blogger."

"Don't make me blush," John laughed, playfully hitting Sherlock on the chest. "You know how hard it is to make my cheeks go back to normal and I have to go out now! You used all the milk for your last experiment and I'd give up a limb for a cuppa."

"But I had to, John! I wanted to test if lactic acid has the same effects on the skin of a corpse as it does on a live human," Sherlock whined, hoping John would understand why he required the milk.

"I know, love, I know. I forgive you," he teased, rolling his eyes. "I'll be back in ten," he added, stepping up on his tip-toes to give Sherlock a peck on the cheek.

John stopped at the door to the hall and looked over his shoulder at Sherlock, who was already staring at him in adoration. Shaking his head happily, he blushed. God, he loved that man.