Chapter Text
I ran. I could feel the stares of John and Lestrade as I ran, the snicker of Sergeant Donovan, but I did it anyway. I only needed to be an alley over. I only needed space.
I heard Lestrade tell John to just let me go for a moment, “Sometimes he needs to think. It’s not abnormal.”
But it was abnormal. My brain, my beautiful, intelligent, never-let-me-down-before brain had stopped. Only for a moment, but a moment too long. John’s fingers had brushed against my hip for a mere second. It was surely completely accidental and we’d shared plenty of unapologetic, innocent, platonic touches before and usually they made my brain sharper. Why else would I have let him stay around me for so long? But in that one brief moment, my mind had gone completely and totally blank. All I could focus on were the feel of his fingers, the smell of sweat and the sound of breathing. My deductions and my one unfailing machine had been gone. Nothingness. Empty.
It was fucking terrifying.
I ducked to my right a few blocks later and leaned my forehead against the cool brick of the alley way, grateful for the shadow of the high walls and the cover from prying eyes. I heard John yell “Sherlock!” but it was just once, and mercifully he did not seem to be coming to find me.
I glanced down the alley trying to bring my breathing under control. A homeless man is squatting there, and gives me a funny look.
Time slows down.
He’s just been from the shelter down the street, I think to myself, desperate to know that my brain had not been damaged or maimed somehow. The used but new-to-him coat is ill-fitting and has a fresh smear of sauce. He was fed as well then. Probably a simple sandwich. Tuna. I can smell it, also clutching a tin in his left pocket. Probably leftovers for the …. Cat… he has befriended; a stray no doubt, but the white and black hairs on his trouser legs suggest the cat is amiable and willing to get close to him. The shoes are well worn and he has rather large feet so new shoes must be difficult to come across which is why… Ah! Yes! I watch as the man makes himself comfortable on the ground and begins to untie the laces. He removes them at available opportunities so he does not wear them out too quickly. I smirk, knowing I am right and am quickly sobered as I recall what has brought me to this alley in the first place.
I was clearly not drugged, damaged or hurt in any way; or else my analysis of the homeless man would have been less than adequate. I was not out of ideas, for the dead body lying out on the street gave me plenty of information that Anderson (idiot!) had clearly missed. Imagine! Not even being able to tell that the man in the suit had clearly been coming from his lover’s house and had been met on the street by his wife. Stupid, stupid. It was too easy, really. I sighed. So the only factor, then, had to have been the unannounced physical contact of one Dr. John Watson.