Coming Home

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The week finally passed by, and John was released from the hospital. He was going to use crutches for awhile, so he had Sherlock to help him around. They took a cabby from the hospital to the flat, and Sherlock carried all of John's things. They walked in, hung their hats, and looked at the flight of stairs.

"How do you want to get up those?" Sherlock asked. John slowly walked over to the stairs, and hopped onto the first step. Sherlock stood behind him to make sure he didn't fall. John hopped slowly up the stairs, using the railing as an aid. Sherlock had to push him back up after he leaned too far backwards, but other than that, he managed the stairs in five minutes. He hopped over to his chair, and plopped down, sighing.

"I'll keep the cases to a minimum until you loose the crutches. Since you can't go up and down the stairs." Sherlock told him.

"You don't have to stop the cases. You can go ahead and go on the cases. I'll just stay here." John told him.

Sherlock looked through the fridge. 'The head is starting to smell.' He thought to himself.
"Don't worry about it. It'll be boring without you to help out and to point the obvious." Sherlock joked. Although his voice was very monotone, John still knew when he was teasing him.

"Well then, I guess you're stuck with me for another two weeks." John told him. Sherlock handed him a cup of tea, and he sat in his chair, across from him. They heard Mrs. Hudson walk in, and set some groceries on the table. She opened the fridge, screamed, and closed the door.

"You should get rid of that head. I can see maggots already." She huffed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson for getting our groceries." John thanked her.

"Oh no problem dear. I feel sorry for what happened. I'll help you out whenever Sherlock goes out." She offered.

"That's a lovely offer, but it isn't needed. I can walk about just fine." John assured her. Sherlock went to put the eggs in the fridge.

"Do not let John walk down the stairs by himself. He can't manage it. And do check on him while I'm away. His soldier of a mind is going to make him think he can walk around without crutches." Sherlock told her.

"You have no faith in me." John dissed. Mrs. Hudson walked into the living room to get a look at John.

"So Sherlock is going to be the mother until you're alright." She teased. He sighed.

"Well since you can't walk, maybe you wouldn't mind it if I showed Sherlock your old journals from when you were in Afghanistan?" She thought aloud. John flushed.

"Don't you even dare." He warned.

"Oh do dare. I would love to see what John thought about alone in the field." Sherlock agreed. Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock hurried to John's room to fetch his journal from under the bed. Mrs. Hudson discovered it while she was cleaning, but she hadn't read it. John tried to stand up, but his leg was still numb around the ankles. He tried to hurry to the room with his crutches, but the two closed the door to keep him out. He banged on the door.

"Please don't read it. It's very personal." John told them. He heard her giggle.

"Sherlock! If you read a single word from that book, I'll never forgive you!" John yelled at him. He smacked the door for emphasis, and hobbled back to the living room. He waited a moment, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson came back out.

"Did you read anything?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How could I? You would loose trust in me." Sherlock told him. John was currently sitting up on the couch, with his legs rested on the rest of the couch.

"I didn't read anything else." Mrs. Hudson told him. She left the floor to the first, leaving Sherlock and John in the living room.

"What is in there that you want to be kept a secret?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head.

"It's nothing. Do not worry. Anyways, are there any appointments today? I can still sit in for appointments." John asked. Sherlock nodded.

"They should be over any minute now." Sherlock said. They heard the front door open and close, and footsteps leading up the stairs. A petite blonde girl in a baby blue dress, with red shoes and lipstick appeared in their doorway.

"Hello, I have an appointment." She said. Sherlock sat her down, and he sat on the couch with John. John ended up having to rest his foot on Sherlock's lap so his kneed wouldn't bend too much.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked. John rolled his eyes at the straightforward question.

"Well I think my landlord is stealing items and food in my apartment. He is the only other person besides me who have a key, and knows the alarm passcode. I would come home, blatantly placing my necklace on my dresser, and when I get back, it's gone. Also I've come home to my milk being half empty. And it would be full just before I left. There's no other way someone is coming into my flat." She explained. Sherlock looked her up and down. She was middle class, her blonde hair was bleached even further to achieve a lighter colour, she wore blue eye contacts, and the watch she wore was a bit expensive, but not entirely. Sherlock noticed orange cat hairs on her shoes, and one imbedded in his watch band. She could tell by her unevenly dilated pupils that she was on medication.

"What is our address?" Sherlock asked. It seemed to be a stupid question.

Her expression blanked out. "Um. I don't remember." She said.

"What colour is our door?" Sherlock asked her. She blanked out again.

"Miss, the landlord has not been stealing from you, you have been misplacing your possesions and food. I can tell you are on a special medication, and your memory is impared. The fact that you can remember who has the keys and code to your house suggests the medication is new, and have a memory loss symptom. I would recommend you go to get your prescription reviewed by another doctor. Make sure to lock the door on the way out." Sherlock told her.

She looked very puzzled, and she smiled.

"You're right! I remember it now! I am on new medication." She said happily, as if just realizing a new discovery. She left the room, but did not lock the door. Probably forgot.

"John. Would you call that woman attractive?" Sherlock asked. John thought about it.

"I mean yeah she is attractive. She's thin and blonde. But then again most of the UK is thin and blonde as it is." He said. Sherlock nodded his head.

The two sat on the couch for a bit, and read or wrote. John headed to his room earlier since the pain medication made him drowsy, and Sherlock stayed up the night.

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