Chapter Text
“...so you can clearly see, it’s so obvious! They can change their face, their name, their address - but never their DNA!” Sherlock was exclaiming, as he had a piece of hair trapped in his tweezers, held carefully in his latex-glove-covered hands.
“I’ve finally cracked the code, John-” Sherlock’s voice stumbled over the name, fading from it’s excitement in the space of one syllable the way one falls off a cliff; getting smaller and smaller until rendered invisible by the distance.
He was getting better, but Sherlock still caught himself speaking to John every so often. It had been a year. He should remember that John wasn’t there. It hadn’t taken him very long to get used to John’s presence, why was it taking him so long to get used to his absence? Sherlock shook his head, waking him from his reverie. He would ponder John’s presence/absence later. Perhaps he would conduct an experiment on rodents for how easily they got used to the presence versus absence of a companion. Or a tree with the presence versus absence of a supporting pole. But he was getting sidetracked. Sherlock needed absolute focus to track down Moriarty’s cohorts.
Sherlock’s phone buzzed, just as he had put the hair samples in a test tube. He straightened, and was promptly reminded he hadn’t slept in three days by a wave of exhaustion, then sank heavily into the chair. He picked up the phone. It was John. Almost as though he’d known Sherlock was thinking of him. Almost as if there weren’t several countries and time changes between them. John had texted him constantly from one week after the fall. Sometimes John told him he was sad or angry. Mostly he just sent small descriptions of a moment in his day. A case John was working on. Sherlock almost felt proud of him, for how much his observation had improved.
“Saw Lestrade today. New case. You would have gotten it in two seconds. Still working on it - JW”
Sherlock scrolled through the messages lazily.
“I know there’s a connection. You’d know it right away. I just can’t put my finger on it. - JW”
“I made tea. Put out two cups before I remembered you weren’t there. - JW”
“Made you tea again. It’s still here, if you want it. - JW”
The amount of times this man felt it relevant to text the deceased about tea! The corner of Sherlock’s mouth turned upwards, despite his disapproval of sentiment.
Within minutes he was asleep, the ghost of the smile still on his mouth, his limbs sprawled over the tiny wooden chair. It was the only piece of furniture in the room, other than the table covered in test tubes filled with DNA samples of the people he was tracking. There were maps and bits of paper covering the walls and the floor. John would have been livid.