Work Text:
John was exhausted. Sherlock's restless pacing about the living room didn't make it any better.
“Tea?“ the blond asked as he got slowly off the sofa to shuffle into the kitchen and switch on the kettle.
The only answer he got was an irritated huff, which didn't surprise John in the least, as Sherlock was stuck on a case. Lestrade had asked for the consulting detective's help on a murder case in which the victim was left with a clown's nose in a portable toilet. But apparently Anderson had ruined the crime scene to the point that Sherlock couldn't gather enough data to solve the case and there hadn't been any developments in the last 36 hours making the detective now quite restless.
John had a coughing fit just as the kettle boiled and the detective's cellphone rang.
After John finally got his breath back, he registered Sherlock's shouting for him “John come on! There has been a new one fitting the pattern, we have to go. Could be dangerous.“ with that Sherlock snatched his scarf from the hook, was out of the door and hurrying down the stairs.
John cursed. Why could Sherlock never bloody wait for him? After all he demanded the doctor's assistance. No time to dwell on it. John had to leave his tea behind, once again, grabbed his coat and hastened down and outside to the, thank god, still waiting cab. Which took off even before the doctor had closed the door completely.
Sherlock's mumbled “Took you long enough.“ annoyed John even further but he held his tongue and only searched in his pockets for a handkerchief with which he proceeded to blow his nose noisily, earning him another glare from the detective.
They were silent during the rest of the drive, aside from a few sneezes and coughs on Johns part, how he hated to have flu. Arriving at their apparent destination, a construction site in Chelsea, Sherlock promptly exited the cab, leaving John to pay the fare as was usual.
“The victim is as of yet unidentified. Found this morning at around 8 am by a mason who thought he might have left his phone here yesterday at work.” John joined Lestrade who stood next to a portable toilet with his flatmate inside it examining the body.
Lestrade went on: “As you can see same cause of death, a cut throat, as with the first victim and he's got the nose of course. Despite this being a busier street we have found no witnesses whats-over. Donovan is still interviewing some of the neighbours, though I doubt that they heard or saw anything suspicious. So what do you have for me Sherlock?”
“I think it was a remarkably sensible decision on your part to call me before letting Anderson on the crime scene. But I guess even idiots are capable of learning from their mistakes.” was the detective's scathing answer.
John felt compelled to reprimand his flatmate in some way for laying into the DI, unfortunately he got only a slightly disapproving but definitely croaky “Sherlock” out. He felt miserable.
Nonetheless this got his friend's attention who asked “Not good?” to which John only shook his head and pointedly looked to Lestrade.
The DI stood stiffer than usual and had a tense expression on his face, John knew Greg felt responsible for Anderson, who belonged to his team, and his mistakes which held back the investigation.
However Lestrade only muttered “It doesn't matter. Let's just get on with it.” Surprising John.
Sherlock replied “I have several theories at the moment. John would you look at this?” at which point the curly haired detective stood up and moved out of the toilet so that the doctor could look inside too.
John was of course used to violence, seeing as their occupation was investigating murder cases. In spite of that he felt slightly nauseous at the sight of the in blood covered man wearing a, grotesquely out of place, clown's nose.
“What do you think of him?” Sherlock questioned.
John stepped closer and looked the victim carefully over, shivering as a gust of icy wind moved past him.
“Male, probably in his late thirties. Somewhat overweight but seeming to possess a certain strength. Certainly not an easy to overpower man, however there are no signs of a struggle, no bruises or scratches. Quite odd.“
Here John had to clear his throat but his voice remained hoarse. “The fatal cut of the throat was probably caused by a razor blade, as with the first victim.”
“Yes, the lack of bruises is quite curious.” Sherlock commented quietly while he scrutinized John carefully.
He took a step back, being the sole focus of the detective's attention was always a bit disconcerting. Especially when like now, the doctor had no idea what he had done to earn his friend's focus.
Sherlock's eyes softened and he approached John declaring “I am wrapping the case up in a bit after which we can go home. But until then I don't want you to catch pneumonia.”
With that the detective took off his navy blue cashmere scarf and wrapped it around John's neck, also handing him his gloves. Trying to hide a pleased smile at John's astonished expression. Not having anticipated this in the slightest, the doctor was stunned and only managed his “Thank you” as Sherlock had already turned around to the victim again.
Greg gave the blonde a questioning look to which he only shrugged. John had no clue what prompted Sherlock's concerned behaviour, which was quite out of character for the otherwise aloof man. Although they had gotten closer these last few weeks since John's break up with Sarah, come to think of it.
After the initial surprise abated he put the gloves on and snuggled a bit into the soft scarf, which was still warm from being around Sherlock's neck only seconds before. And the scent, John tried to be inconspicuous in his sniffing the fabric. It smelled exactly like his eccentric friend, like expensive shower gel, formaldehyde and a smell that was inherently Sherlock. John felt already better, how curious that a piece of fabric soothed his discomfort better then medication did.
Now he had unfortunately missed part of his flatmates deduction which he currently unleashed on Lestrade. The DI scribbled in his notebook trying to keep up with the consulting detective.
“So you see, it was all along a colleague who was bullied by the victims. If you search all McDonalds' in the area you should be able to find him. The murderer is male, about 1,70 m, shoe size seven, muscular and most importantly he has recently shaved off his black full beard. Got that?” Sherlock asked not even a little out of breath.
Lestrade replied “Yes, but now please explain it, how did you deduce all that? I also will need to take your statement at the police station.”
Sherlock huffed “Really Lestrade don't you see that John is ill. We are going home to Baker Street at once. You can have your statement at a later date if it's indeed necessary. ”
With that the man turned around and hailed a taxi. Sherlocks cab hailing powers were really astonishing. John hastily said goodbye to Greg and with a feeling of déja vu got into the waiting cab.
The doctor was about to thank his friend, yet as he glanced at Sherlock his eyes seemed to say not to do it now. Therefore John settled into his seat and the car ride was again spent in silence. Only this time it was a comfortable silence were before it was tense.
On their arrival at Baker Street Sherlock threw a few notes to the cabbie and departed the vehicle, followed by a pleasantly surprised John. The silence remained as they climbed the 17 stairs together and as they finally stepped into their flat. Sherlock turned around just as John had closed the door behind him and thus was standing a good deal closer to him than usual. The flatmates made eye contact and something transpired between them.
”You know John, I quite like the way my scarf looks around your neck” the detective purred as he pulled on the scarf in question to bring John even closer to him. Purred. A smile emerged on the blondes face, he had no idea what had provoked Sherlock's mask to fall, but he was giddy with joy to discover this flirty and unguarded side of his detective's character.
He went slightly on tiptoes to whisper in Sherlock's ear, his lips brushing over the detecive's outer ear “Well, I like that it smells like you.” and was pleased to notice that his action had evoked a shiver in his flatmate. With that he went in for a kiss. Closing his eyes and leaning forward, anticipating the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his. But to Johns dismay they never kissed, because Sherlock was redirecting his lips to the tip of Johns nose in the last moment.
“You're still ill John. I would in fact gladly kiss you. “ This was punctuated by a kiss to Johns forehead.
“But the resulting exchange of our saliva would almost certainly lead to my infection with the same virus you are afflicted with and I fear our developing relationship would suffer under my being sick and consequently getting bored. ”
“You git” John chuckled affectionately and kissed Sherlock's nose in return.