Chapter Text
It felt almost surreal. Being in a cab in London. It was such a familiar setting that for moments during the ride, felt almost as if nothing had happened. But that was far from the case. So much had happened. Possibly more then any other adventure they’d had together. And that was really saying something at this point. John felt that sense of relief that came after the danger they faced during a case cooled down, and he was anxious to get home.
Sherlock hadn’t said anything since they left Musgrave. Waving off further questioning about the situation, but not leaving until he had been assured that both his siblings would be looked after. John couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. Sherlock’s mind was an unusual place to begin with, but now with everything Eurus did to him, everything’s he’s discovered, it all must be racing through him at a level of processing that John probably couldn’t even comprehend. But he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse for this particular situation.
There were a couple of times during the ride home where he was tempted to talk to his friend as he stared out the window; but neither of them were particularly good at this sort of thing, and perhaps the back of a cab was not the best place for it. So they just sat in awkward, yet comfortable silence, until they reached their destination.
With Baker Street still being a burnt shell of it’s former self, that destination would be John’s home. Exiting the cab and paying the fare, John walked up to the front door with Sherlock following. When they entered, they heard some familiar footsteps coming down to the ground floor, and were greeted by Mrs Hudson, with Rosie in her arms.
“Oh thank goodness!” Mrs Hudson exclaimed at seeing them return. “I hope you settled all that nasty business. You were gone long enough. We were worried sick.” she added speaking both for her and Rosie. Handing the infant to her father’s waiting arms.
“Hello sweetheart.” John said as he held his daughter close. For a while during this whole ordeal, he thought he might never see her again. That wave of relief washing over again as she cooed in his arms. “Thank you for looking after her Mrs Hudson. You are a lifesaver.” he replied to his former landlady as Sherlock removed his coat and scarf. Taking a seat on the couch.
“Oh think nothing of it dearie. It was my pleasure to have something to do after that mishap at the flat. Your brother will get quite the earful next time I see him.” Mrs Hudson glanced over John’s shoulder to address Sherlock. A comment which elicited a chuckle from John and the slightest smile from Sherlock.
“I wouldn’t be too harsh on him Mrs Hudson. After this latest case I solved for him; I’m sure he’ll help restore 221B to it’s proper glory as, compensation.” Sherlock remarked.
“Well it’s certainly the least he can do. Are you boys alright? You left so quickly after that disaster.”
“We’re fine Mrs. Hudson. The case is closed, it’s all sorted.” John answered softly.
“Well, that’s a relief. I certainly hope that’s the last bit of excitement for a while.” John wasn't betting on it but hopefully this would be the last somewhat traumatizing case for them. Maybe some typical murders for a while.
“I think you are in good hands now.” the landlady continued, sweetly addressing little Rosie “I’ll leave you to it then.” now bidding the doctor farewell. Walking past to grab her coat.
“Wait” John intervened, careful not to drop his daughter as he turned around to face her. “You can’t go back to the flats in the shape they’re in.”
“Oh don’t you worry about me. I’m going to spend some time with my sister. I’ll be by to see to the clean up. You just take it easy alright?” Mrs Hudson requested warmly of her former tenant. John nodded. As she opened the door to take her leave, she turned again to John “There’s a fresh pot on the stove. I think you boys could use a nice cuppa.”
“Mrs Hudson, you are truly indispensable.” John complimented to her latest of many sweet gestures. She gave him and Rosie one last warm smile before departing. John’s entire frame slumped slightly as the door shut. Not even realizing he was attempting to look less tired then he was. Taking a moment to adjust his grip on Rosie, smiling at her. “As always, she’s knows just what we need. I could certainly use some tea. Sherlock how about-?”
John was about to ask his friend if he wanted a cup too. Only to discover he had fallen asleep. Legs still planted on the floor but the rest of his body appearing to almost struggle to keep upright. Like he would fall on his side any second. Either he was so bored from the small talk between the two of them, or recent events had finally taken their toll.
Either way, John stared briefly at this rare vulnerable image of the great detective, and gently placed his daughter down on the nearby chair for a moment. Long enough to help his friend into a more comfortable position. He never even stirred as John properly let him lay down and placed his legs on the sofa cushions; his legs bending slightly due to his height overpowering the length of the couch. But this position would be much more acceptable then just leaving him in the one he was in.
Interrupting the silence that almost echoed in the Watson household was Rosie fussing slightly. John kneeled down to comfort her where she sat. She calmed almost instantly, giving her father such an innocent smile earned just by his presence, and the only sound that could now be heard was the even breathing of Sherlock's deep sleep.
As he picked his daughter up again and went to see about that warm cup of tea, John found himself once again staring at his friend who had endured so much.
“Rest easy soldier.”
John stepped downstairs that morning to start with breakfast, but when he came down, he saw an unusual sight. Sherlock was still asleep on his couch. He had wandered down here a couple of times during the night to tend to Rosie, and made sure to be quiet so as not to disturb his exhausted friend, but even with everything that happened the last few days, surely he’d be rested by now.
This would already be unusual for Sherlock, who didn’t seem to need as much sleep as “normal” people did. Usually able to run on adrenaline and intrigue. However, even for a regular person who’s mind didn’t race like an engine, he should have gotten more then his needed sleep a couple of hours ago. But there was no sign that Sherlock had moved from that spot aside from an arm and a leg now dangling off the side of the couch. Something was wrong.
John stepped over to the unconscious detective. Sitting on the adjacent table, he checked his friends vitals and looked for any sign that he might have been hurt or gotten sick, It wasn’t unlikely after what they went through at Sherrinford. But everything seemed okay. Aside from the fact that Sherlock barely stirred during this examination, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
John considered trying to wake him up, and even nudged his shoulder a couple of times while he was looking him over to get his cooperation, but there he still laid. Maybe he really was just that exhausted. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. So since he couldn’t find anything wrong with him otherwise, he decided to leave him be for now. He was going to take a couple of days off from the clinic anyway, so if anything did happen to Sherlock, he would be around to make sure it didn’t escalate.
John returned to his original plan of starting the day properly, though admittedly with some slight hesitation as he left Sherlock’s still unmoving side.
This was weird. Even for Sherlock.