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The Biggest Lie- Sherlock The biggest lie
I ever told
"Do you love me?"
"No, I don't."
"Hey Sherlock?" John asked, looking down at the man draped cross his bare chest. In the after glow of their love-making a warm content seemed to have settled over him, giving him the confidence he needed to ask the question that had been burning inside him for so long.
"Hm?" Sherlock replied tiredly, looking up into John's eyes.
"Do you love me?"
The consulting detective stared at him, not entire sure of what he had just heard but knowing all to well that it couldn't have been anything else. John had asked if he....but why? Hadn't he told him when they first met that he was married to his work? Did he think that sex would change that? Could he tell that it had?
Could John tell how much he meant to the sociopath, how much the man he was holding needed him? Sherlock had thought he had been so careful, so precise in hiding the feelings he didn't even want to admit to himself for fear of creating an attachment that could
Don't keep doing this to me.
The lies, the teases, the silence,
It's tearing me apart.
Can't you see?
Why don't you see?
You're hurting me.
Don't you care?
This is only hurting us.
Both of us.
Not just me.
For once, be honest.
Please, just please,
Chess. For Serenber6The door to the boys' dormitory opened quietly and shut again a few seconds later, leaving its two remaining occupants once again in the dark.
"Dean?" Seamus called tentatively.
"Yeah?" the other boy replied from his own bed.
"Good you're up." Seamus sat up and crawled to the edge of his bed, looking across to his friend who had also sat up. "They left again."
"I know." Dean said. "I wonder where they go. And where's Neville?"
Seamus smiled. "Probably forgot the password again."
"Think we should go find him?"
"Nah. No use all of us being caught out of bed."
Dean nodded in agreement. "So what now? I can't go back to sleep."
Seamus thought for a moment before grinning. "We could play wizard's chess."
"We don't have a chess set." Dean pointed out.
"No." his friend conceded, still grinning. "But Ron does!"
He climbed out of bed and scrambled over to the absent boy's trunk while Dean lit the room. "I'm sure he won't mind." he said, digging through the trunk's unorganized contents.
Nursery Rhymes Are Deadly 11Little Tommy Tucker
"What do you think it means?" John asked when they returned to the flat. He was still too shaken to go to bed despite the late hour. Instead he sat down in his usual chair, taking in all the warmth and comfort he could from it.
Sherlock didn't respond. Instead he went into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. He knew John would want some as much as he did. He was still in shock after what had just happened. The fear of losing John, the horror of possibly being the one to kill him, the joy of having him be alright and the comfort of holding the other man in his arms all twisted and swirled in his head like a hurricane. At at it's center, a growing hatred and respect for Noel that he couldn't seem to separate and catalog.
"It could mean a dozen things John! I've never heard the damn thing before! You can't expect me to analyze a rhyme and compute the exact crime its directing us too in one hour. Not after you were almost dropped to your death.
MiscommunicationJohn had been acting strangely. Ever since the incident at the pool with Moriarty he had been skittish. He might have thought Sherlock didn't notice but of course he did. Every time they were in a room together John would make an excuse to leave. He would be sitting in his chair when Sherlock would come into the room and sit down on the sofa. Within minutes John would start twitching, his hands would clench and unclench and he would start looking over his shoulder. Then he would rise and go up to his room or leave to do the shopping. Or just leave, no excuse given.
At first Sherlock thought it was just normal nerves. The man had been strapped to a bomb, it was normal not to want to stay still for too long. Movement made you harder to catch. But he seemed to have no trouble staying still for long periods of time when the consulting detective wasn't within his range of vision. He knew because he'd followed him one day and watched him sit on a park bench for an hour and a half.
Nursery Rhymes Are Deadly 10Hickory Dickory Dock
Sherlock sat in the back of Sally's car in total silence all the way back to the flat. He felt weirdly shaken by what he had just witnessed. He had tried to imagine who they were chasing a number of times but had always left the face blank. Seeing him like this was sort of a shock. He was so young, so thin, so....human. He hadn't been nearly so surprised by Moriarty who at least looked the part of a criminal even if his obnoxious attitude had been hard to swallow.
But this man, this Nursery Rhyme Murderer, he didn't fit. How could some kid, who couldn't even feed himself pull off such elaborate and perfectly timed crimes?
They pulled up to the flat and Sally stopped to let them out. Sherlock said nothing but climbed out of the backseat and went inside. John was about follow when Sally called after him.
"Hey, Doctor Watson?" she said
"Yeah?" he asked, turning back to look at her.
"Is he going to be alright? I've never seen the freak so quiet."she asked.
Nursery Rhymes Are Deadly 9Little Miss Muffet
"Little Miss Muffet.... Historical reference John?" Sherlock asked, thinking quickly.
"None that I know of." the doctor replied.
"What could it mean then?" Sally demanded.
Sherlock ignored her, the gears in his mind working at full power. Little Miss Muffet....a child? Maybe. Seemed unlikely, he'd avoided bringing children into the rhymes so far. Most people avoided dragging children into things like this. At least he still had some humanity left to him. Sat on a tuffet. What the bloody hell is a tuffet? Did it matter or was it only important that she was sitting on it? Curds and Whey, she was eating something. Could it be a restaurant, a cook? Was the spider some sort of metaphor? A clue about poison or was it an indicator of the criminal himself?
"Who's taking over the case?" Sherlock asked.
"I am." Sally told him.
Sherlock nodded. Suddenly it all clicked into place.
"We have to get to Bart's. Now." He said, moving quickly back towards the crowd of onlookers
Omnipresent 4Love-a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection
John awoke, warmer than he could remember being in a long time. Eyes still closed he realized the cause of this new found warmth was the body his arms were currently holding against his chest. The body was thinner than his and longer but surprisingly soft.
He smiled as the memories from the previous night came rolling back and opened his eyes to make sure it had not been a dream. Yes this was certainly not his room and if the mop of black curls in front of his face was any indication the person he was holding was most definitely not Sarah.
He sat up slowly so as not to wake Sherlock and ran a hand through his short blond hair. This was bad. What was he supposed to tell her? Sorry I didn't take you out last night I was too busy shagging my flatmate? I was going to take you out for Valentine's Day but I ended up going on a date with Sherlock instead?
"You're thinking too much." a voice behind him said.
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