A Rose By Any Other Name | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 5

She was staring down the person in her kitchen who, in surprise, had thrown his hands up in surrender now that he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

"John!" she exclaimed with relief, setting her gun down on the table. "What in the bloody hell—"

"I'm sorry," he stammered out, tension easing out of him as Aryn put the gun down. "I had stopped by and saw the door was open."

"Announce yourself next time, if you'd please," she scolded, walking over to the kitchen sink. She grabbed a glass that was sitting on the counter, filled it with water, and took a hefty drink. After calming her nerves, she turned to John and asked, "What are you doing here so late?"

He stood up and rubbed the back of his head. "Um...Sherlock hasn't come back to Baker Street yet. Mrs. Hudson called me to ask where he was. I thought maybe you'd know."

She chuckled as she set the glass back on the counter. "And you find this to be strange behavior? As long as I've known him, disappearing suddenly and then reappearing just as suddenly is pretty normal. I don't know where he is."

John nodded in annoyance as he stated, "Yes it may be, but I'm just...I dunno. I'm worried more about him than usual."

Aryn nodded as she folded her arms across her chest. "You want some tea?"

John nodded as he sat back in the wooden kitchen chair. Rubbing his face with his hands, he sighed. "How did you handle him? Before, I mean."

She laughed as she set the kettle on the stove to allow the water to boil. "I didn't have to baby sit him, if that's what you're asking."

He laughed slightly, thinking about how their friendship consisted of a lot of John chasing Sherlock around as if he was a three-year-old child who had consumed far too much sugar. It was exhausting business. With the baby coming, John was worried that once his attention shifted away from Sherlock, Sherlock would go back into his old ways. John had always told himself that if he ever saw any bags of white powder in Sherlock's possession, he'd literally knock some sense into him. It was a waste of a brilliant mind if Sherlock was to succumb to drugs once more.

Sitting across from John, Aryn sighed. "College," she randomly said.

"Sorry?" John asked, now looking up at the DI with more attention than he had previously.

"College. That's how Sherlock and I met."

He leaned back in his chair, preparing himself to process what Aryn was going to tell him. "And how exactly did you get caught up with him?"

"Probably the same way he reeled you in. The want for adventure, a need for a companion."

He nodded in understanding. "And you two didn't have problems?"

She laughed heartily. "Oh no, we did. It was a rather dysfunctional friendship for the first few months. He'd only talk to me when he had a case. Saved my life once or twice, so I do owe him that. But it never extended to something more than that."

Her face scrunched up a little as she finished her last sentence.

"What?" John asked, noticing the change.

She shifted in her chair slightly as she said, "I suppose there was a turning point where Sherlock finally saw that I wanted to be more than just his tag-along."

His eyes widened. "What like...like..."

"...a friend."

It wasn't what John had expected. He had honestly expected her to say something along the lines of being lovers. Aryn had struck him as someone who was very sociable and able to get along with nearly anyone. The way she had said the word "friend" made him think that there was much more to her than met the eye. It was possible that Sherlock was her saving grace, just as Sherlock had been his.