Not Afraid

Chapter Three - A Case For John

John, as it transpired, did not sleep a wink all night. Instead, he lay, wide awake, tossing and turning and mulling over the happenings of the day and trying to figure out why Sherlock was being so secretive and vague. And why on earth he was suddenly concerned about love, as trivial as it was in his 'considered opinion'. John didn't understand, he didn't understand at all. Maybe he really should put it on a tee-shirt. Mary would approve.

It was many hours before the sun began to rise and John was incredibly tired, yet his mind refused to let him sleep. He tried to see the positive side; at least he wasn't having nightmares about Sherlock's death. A small reprieve, a tiny island in the middle of a never ending ocean. He crawled out of bed, eyes drooping and feeling like he'd been put through a mincer. He checked on Rosie who was, mercifully, still sleeping before stumbling downstairs to the kitchen. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, and right at that moment, John was glad. He didn't like that he was glad but the fact remained, he didn't think he would be able to maintain a friendly and caring persona whilst feeling as crappy as he did.

Curled up in his armchair by the fire and dressed now, John was thinking again. Not in the ordered, carefully planned out manner in which Sherlock did, but in the very erratic, muddled up and confusing way he was accustomed to. Rosie had fallen asleep in his arms, having had a bottle of milk and some time to chew on a toy rabbit, and he was hypnotically rubbing her back so she stayed soothed and asleep. Of course, he was thinking about Sherlock. Where was the sociopath? What was his problem? And why in the name of GOD DID HE HAVE TO BE SO FRUSTRATING?! John couldn't answer a single one of these questions so he gave up thinking about them and started thinking about the kind of human being Rosie was going to turn out to be. This didn't help his overall state of concern though. He was worried, as any parent is, about his daughter but he reckoned he had slightly more cause to panic a little. Rosie didn't exactly have a stable family life and John always felt guilty about it. He didn't know if he was doing right by her, though he had the support of Mrs Hudson, Molly Hooper and Greg Lestrade.

Without warning, and as if summoned by thought alone, someone knocked on the door and Greg Lestrade himself strode in with a cheery hello.

"Greg," John greeted quietly, nodding at a sleeping Rosie. Greg instantly looked apologetic and lowered the volume of his normally cheerful and somewhat sometimes abrasive voice.

"Hi John," he said, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "Sherlock around?"

"No," John said bluntly. "I don't know where the prick has gone."

"Oh, okay," said Greg. Then he said, "Everything okay? You know...between you two?"

John eyed him. "Wouldn't have a clue. Honestly? Something's up but he won't tell me."

Greg was quiet and John felt like a real dick. He was pissed off, taking it out on Greg and Greg just didn't deserve that, not after everything he had done for John over the years they'd known each other.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few more moments of feeling bad. "What's going on?"

"Well," Greg said, shaking off John's apology like he understood. He probably did, John mused; Greg had been working with Sherlock before John came into the picture. "There's case that's got us baffled. We'd hoped Sherlock would take a look but..."