Work Text:
Wisdom. John was wise in the ways of the world. In ways that Sherlock was not.
He told himself, “I am not unwise or wired the wrong way, I am smart in other areas,” because that is what John told him once.
Sherlock heard people say those things about him, whether they knew or not, he knew they said those things, he could read their thoughts. Not exactly, but close enough. He knew what people were thinking because of their body language and logic and reason.
If John worked harder at noticing what was right in front of him, he would be a very good detective. He was distracted by the humanities and his own human needs. “I like warm tea too,” Sherlock said, “the mystery is so much more fascinating, I forget about the tea.” John looked at him and smirked. Sherlock felt warm when John looked at him that way. Like he was an amazing person.
John was wise about talking to people and Sherlock could read them. It was much harder for him to talk to people in the casual way John did, like they could be in a dark pub having a pint instead of a cold morgue. John knew how to chat up the front desk so they could easily slide in a good hour with a corpse at any time of the day or night. It seemed easy for John to even talk to Sherlock and he got the feeling he was not always an easy person to talk to. John made things easier and that was why he loved him.
It was a foggy day when John finally padded out from his bedroom wrapped in his robe and a blanket. Of course John went straight to the kitchen and yawned the whole way. He got out the things to make tea and gestured to Sherlock if he wanted some. Sherlock waved his hand, sure. It was easy for Sherlock to read John’s language as it was for him to play a new song on the violin. He just knew the notes and felt the melody.
Sherlock picked up his violin and played a slow and calm song he made up. He thought, “I really should be writing these down,” and then the music flowed through him and he enjoyed the moment, he closed his eyes and listened. He heard the sound of John filling the electric tea kettle with water. He heard him scoop the dried black tea leaves into the metal tea strainer. He heard him set out two ceramic mugs on the wood counter. He heard him shuffle to the fridge to get out the milk. It was two sugars for Sherlock and none for John, just lots of milk poured in. Sherlock stopped his song and opened his eyes, John handed him the hot mug of tea. It was a little thing that made life worth living and John made it easy to appreciate. It was not the rush of the game or the satisfaction of the solve and it was completely, utterly about John and his tea making skills.
He sipped his tea and watched the people down below in their long black coats and shiny shoes as they walked to work and into the shop down below. They had their collars turned up against the chill and their coats buttoned up tight. It was a cold morning and John would protest going out before he finished his tea. Sherlock knew they had to leave, and soon, if they were going to make it to their appointment. “John, we must get ready,” Sherlock turned towards John, settled in his chair by the fire.
“What? Now? Why?”
“We have an appointment.”
“What appointment? Sherlock, what appointment?”
Sherlock drank a big sip of tea and set his mug down on the side table by his chair. He faced John, bent down, and rubbed his shoulders under the thick flannel robe and blanket. “It’s a very important appointment. We must not be late.”
John grumbled as he got up from his chair. Ten minutes later and he was dressed in his usual pants, button down, and military collar jacket. Sherlock was already in his slimming suit and overcoat, he had on his scarf and gloves. “Come along, we will get a toastie on the way.” John grumbled his agreement and followed Sherlock out of their cozy flat.
Downstairs the shop had a special for them on busy mornings, two grilled cheeses with ham and coffees if they wanted them. It was a request they made so often, all they had to do was walk in and they would be ready for them to grab and eat on the run.
“Sherlock, where are we going?” John said as he took a bite of the sandwich.
“Across town.”
“Then we will need a taxi. What’s across town?”
“Our appointment.”
John gave him an annoyed look. He was giving him the runaround. He wanted to tell John and not until they were on their way in the taxi. John munched his breakfast in three big bites and Sherlock finished his before they waved a taxi. They disposed of their trash in the can of the shop and Sherlock slid into the back seat first. Once they were buckled he handed the driver a folded piece of paper with the address penned on it.
“Is that the address? Driver, what is it?” John said.
Sherlock had made a note for the driver to be silent no matter what and included a large tip.
“Fine, Sherlock, what is this all about? I don’t remember you telling me there’s a case. I thought we were taking a break for the start of the year, like a little at home holiday. We really needed it after last year, we were so busy with case after case and my blog blowing up with readers and comments. I was up every night replying. While it was fun, it was exhausting. I was hoping we may even get out to the country if the weather stays nice, you know, get away for a few days. I bet Mycroft would loan us a car. What do you think?”
Sherlock thought, “I think you get chatty after you’ve had a coffee,” and he kept it to himself. No use saying those types of things to the person who was nicest to him in the whole world. “I think you are really going to like this appointment, then,” Sherlock said.
John looked shocked, his mouth fell open and he stared at Sherlock. “Me? This appointment is about me? I never would have known. Sherlock, what have you done?”
Sherlock laughed, “I said you were going to like it.”
John stopped pestering him then and nodded, they drove across the city and talked about everyday things.
Whatever John thought he knew about this appointment, Sherlock was certain he was wrong. He watched Joh over the past months, work hard and then recuperate. He didn’t move far from his chair by the fire most days and read his papers and watched his stories. Sherlock buzzed around him doing research and reading books, he played his violin and went for walks around the neighborhood. He liked to light up his senses with a new experience or a challenge. This experience was going to lighten them both up.
The cab drove them further out from the center of London and into more rural neighborhoods. Sherlock saw water out the window, open water and some smaller areas iced over and white. The drive was pretty and they enjoyed the view in the back of the quiet cab. It was not too long before they pulled over onto a slightly rougher road. They went back into the trees from the main road and stopped before a large white farmhouse with cheerfully colored doors and shutters. The host of the farm came out to greet them and introduce themselves. They told Sherlock and John to walk around back and everything would be ready for them. Sherlock paid the cab to wait and the cabbie agreed to come in and have coffee while he waited in the kitchen with the farmer.
John gave Sherlock a quizzical look. Sherlock smiled and let John lead them to the back of the snowy yard. A ways off from the main compound stood a small wood structure that emitted long streams of smoke from the roof. Sherlock opened the door and inside there was a changing area, all in orange cedar wood and Sherlock smelled the pleasant fragrance. There was a bench and cubbies with clean towels. The back of the structure was closed off with a door and inside the light was on, Sherlock could see there were benches through the window in the door. They took off their clothes and wrapped themselves in towels. Sherlock went first to the back room and inside there were benches built into the wall and a bucket of water with a ladle to pour over a grate of gray stones that steamed. They were ready to sweat it out in the sauna.
“Sherlock, why did you bring me to take a sauna? Have you ever been in a sauna before?”
“I have and it was a perfectly pleasant experience that I wanted to share with you.”
“It's nice, it's really nice. Pour some water on those stones.”
Sherlock took a few big ladles of water and let them sizzle and steam on the hot stones. The smell of smoky cedar was strong and filled his senses. John stretched out on the bottom bench and Sherlock took the top, it was hottest towards the ceiling. Sherlock felt the sweat start to bead on his forehead, his arms, his legs, his skin tingled. He sat completely still and breathed in the dry, hot air and felt the sweat as it rolled down his skin.
When it was too hot to handle inside the sauna, they ran outside into the snow, barefoot and only wrapped in a towel. The rush of extremes from hot to cold made them laugh. The snow had an icy crust on top of the fluff and they stomped around like giants. The sky shifted from gray to light purple and blue as the sun set behind the white rolling hills. After a few minutes they ran back into the sauna and dried off. John pulled Sherlock in by the waist and held him close, he kissed him hard on the lips. Sherlock shook his dark curls and snow fell on John’s upturned face and he pulled away and giggled. Sherlock pulled John back in and kissed him all over his face, his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. He cupped his face with his hand and kissed him on the lips.
All the way home in the cab they held hands in the backseat.