The city was like water and fire, earth and wind, full of life. Always twisting, spinning, turning, like a ticking clock. London, always alive, never asleep.
It was a cold day, the waves of the Thames were brutal, wind blowing in their faces. "Sherlock, what are we doing here? Really, what?" John Watson looked at the face of his flat mate, his eyes were the same as the Thames, like a restless river of blue waves.
"I need to find it John."
"You've been saying that for the last two hours! What do you need to find Sherlock?"
Sherlock sighed, "I can't tell you John, at least not yet."
It was a quarter past midnight and John Watson was standing with his best friend and flat mate Sherlock Holmes at the pier of the Battersea Power station.
"Ok, fine. When you are ready to tell me what's so important, you know where to find me. I'm going home."
When John was at home, he decided to make himself a nice cup of tea. His shoulder ached like hell and a cup of tea combined with a nice warm bed were the exact things he needed.
When his tea was ready he looked outside: It was raining, Sherlock was still outside. Well, better make an extra cup for when he comes home.
He walked to the kitchen, and took an extra cup out of the cupboard.
Then he heard the door, and footsteps on the stairs. “Sherlock, is that you?”
“John?” Sherlock’s voice sounded stressed.
The door slammed open and Sherlock walked in a fast pace towards the bathroom.
“Sherlock? Is something wrong?”
Sherlock ignored him… Sherlock ignored him, nothing special; the only thing that was different was the panicked look on Sherlock’s face.
John ignored his tea, with his face full of concern he approached Sherlock.
“I’m fine John.”
There was a warning in Sherlock’s voice. Was he scared? There was something in Sherlock’s neck, his scarf almost hid it, but it looked green and it was bleeding.
“Sherlock, what’s that in your neck?” John reached out to remove the scarf, but Sherlock grabbed his hand. Sherlock looked at him. Their eyes met each other and John stared into orbs of ice.
“I said I’m fine.” Sherlock’s deep voice shuddered through his body.
John tugged his hand free. “Sherlock if something’s wrong, I want to help you.”
“I’m fine John, the only thing I need is a bath.”
Sherlock looked threatened and sad. John knew that look; it was the same look he had on the roof of St. Barts. It was the same look he had when he returned to John alive and well, scared about John’s reaction. John wanted to reach out, to touch his face, to ruffle his hair. He wanted to kiss him, tell him everything was fine.
When he retreated from his thoughts, Sherlock had left the room.
What was wrong with him? He was not in love with his flat mate! Sherlock was his best friend, and John was a straight man! He loved women, not men!
But every time he saw Sherlock, heard his voice. It was like being under a spell.
Sherlock would hate him if he knew the truth about John’s feelings.
He walked towards the bad room and rested his head on the door.
He could hear the water in the tub
“Sherlock, your cup of tea is on the kitchen table.”
Still no answer.
“Ok, I’m going to bed.”
With a sigh, he went upstairs, changed his clothes to pyjamas and tugged himself under the blankets.
It was night in the never sleeping city.
At 221B Baker Street John was dreaming about Afghanistan. Sherlock could hear his moans and cries resonate through the water. He should be there with John. Hug him and tell him everything is all right, but instead he was in the bad tub, he looked down at his body with disgust. The only thing he wanted was to be human, but he couldn’t!
With every dull drop of rain or water splash his body decided to transform.
Today, John almost saw his true form. John would hate him if he discovered the truth about him.
There was a serial killer on the loose. Three bodies were found, and it couldn’t be a coincidence that they were of his kind. Someone knew it, and the only thing he could do was find the bastard before humanity would know about his kind. He had to find him, so that his life with John would return back to normal.