whatofthewarts | (no subject)

(no subject)

Irene Adler had many homes, and many more hiding places, but months after her death Sherlock was certain he'd found at least half those in the country. She had her many stolen jewels tucked away all over the apartment, and it took him the better part of the afternoon to dig them all out of their hidey holes. When he had them in his pockets, he went searching for someone else entirely.

Although they had their obvious differences, given their different environments, Sherlock found it was remarkably easy to track himself down.

"Making headway, I presume?"

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"And make sure that no cracked ribs became broken ribs, which may then puncture your lungs."

Now Holmes is sounding testy.

"Does someone feel a little bit guilty?"

He makes a face at him.

"I may have been a virgin but I was hardly blushing."

"Perhaps not, but you are a proud man, and proud men tend to ignore vital injuries."

So there. Even if they both know that Sherlock is more than bright enough to recognize when he needs help. He probably knows better than Holmes how to treat it by himself.

"Then stay, if you want."

Caving in, quietly, when he doesn't bolt at the admission of his utter inexperience.

Although Holmes had meant to leave and come back in the morning, he changes his mind now. He takes off his shoes, and his coat, and settles in bed beside Sherlock.

He rolls over onto his side. The position highlights the difference in their heights, the subtle weight of muscle Holmes has over Sherlock, the bony jut of Sherlock's shoulder above his. He smiles.

"When you visit my world, I'll let you hide in the back room for days with a chemistry textbook."

"And mathematics. And global politics."

He's almost salivating at the thought of all that information.

"You can come on faces and pretend to speak only french, to keep from being asked to explain things you can't."

Plotting, happily.

"Alors je le ferai."

Smirking. But he tilts his head a little.

"'Come on faces'?"

"Cases."

He corrects, in a sleepy slur.

Cases.

Because he doesn't understand the slang in the other phrasing, he just nods, and gives him an amused, sympathetic pat. He's heard Watson say stranger things while sleeptalking.

"Sleep now."

He flushes pink, for no obvious reason, and starts to drift off.

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