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”Remind me again”, John says from the stove, ”one or two eggs?”
”One”, Sherlock replies from the table.
”Two it is”, John mumbles as he drops another egg into the boiling water.
He winds up the kitchen timer before he has to stop, support himself on the counter and catch his breath. He knows it's ridicilous, to think that he, who once ran several blocks after a cab, now gets exhausted cooking breakfast. But there's nothing he can do about it, and it does happen to everyone one day.
”Did I ever tell you about Belarus?”
John looks over at Sherlock, with his hands clasped over the table as he stares right out into nothing as if he's seeing it all right there.
”No”, he replies. ”No, you didn't.”
He takes the few steps to the table, pulls out the chair on the opposite side of Sherlock and sits down. He's stiff and his bones creak when he does it.
”I flew over there just for the case”, Sherlock starts, running a hand through his graying hair and shaking his head a bit. ”I thought it was terribly interesting, that's what it sounded like. So I dropped all my other cases, and flew all the way to Minsk.”
”It wasn't interesting then?” John smirks.
”God no!” Sherlock scoffs. ”He sat there accused of murdering his girlfriend and I could see right away that he had done it. I still asked him to explain though, and so he did. He told me that they had been fighting, that his father had been a butcher and that he had a knife in his hands and stabbed her.”
He snorts. John smiles, because he almost looks like he used to when he does that.
”He still insisted on calling it an accident though, but I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. I'm not a lawyer, christ, but that was what he wanted me for. Wanted me to prove that he was innocent. But you can't prove something that isn't true.”
”So you didn't take the case?”
”No, I didn't take the case. He was so obviously guilty and had a terrible temper. His grammar too, god, that was the worst part. I could barely concentrate on what he was saying because I was so distracted by all the errors.”
He drums his slim fingers against the table, John sips his tea and concludes that it's still too hot.
”What next then?” he asks.
”Then I was going to leave”, Sherlock says. ”But not only does he have the audacity to protest my departure, but actually says 'I will get hung for this'!”
”He didn't!”
”He did!”
”What did you say then?”
”Well, I of course assured him that he would not get hung, but most definitely hanged.”
Sherlock smirks.
”How could I ever have guessed?” John laughs.
”You do know me.”
For the first time John manages to make eye contact with him. He looks so happy, so proud of himself, so Sherlock.
”Yes, I do know you.”
The kitchen timer rings. John stands up a bit too quickly to get to the eggs and loses his breath and cracks his back. Limping slightly he makes his way to the stove, turns it off and fishes up the eggs.
”It was two eggs, wasn't it?”
”Yes”, Sherlock says. ”Two eggs.”
John puts Sherlock's two on one plate and his own on another, then returns to the table. He puts Sherlock's plate down in front of him, and the former detective frowns at the noise.
”There you go.”
Sherlock only stares down at his breakfast as John starts to peel his.
”John”, he suddenly says.
John looks up at him and into his eyes. They're the only part of him that's still the same, that hasn't changed at all. But John knows that there will come a day when they will change too, and then Sherlock will be gone completely.
”Did I ever tell you about Belarus?” he asks.
John smiles.
”No”, he says. ”No, you didn't.”