A Johnlock before christmas

December 4

Thieves beware (part 3)

John was just reaching for the door, when Sherlock managed to pull himself together. With one long stride he got hold of the kitbag and pulled hard. The pickpocket tumbled backwards and lost his balance. Analyzing the situation quickly, the sleuth took advantage of John's momentarily disorientation to pin him against the wall.
"You're not going anywhere", he grumbled, annoyed by the fleeing attempt. The captured man just sighed.

"Thought it might work", he mumbled before stopping to restrain Sherlock's grip. Latter backed a bit away to see his face properly before he noticed something John had said.
"Why did you call me Inspector?"
The confusion was clearly written in the others face as his brows pulled together.
"Aren't you one?", he asked. His question was answered with an eye roll.
"Would I ask if I were? Stop asking obvious things and answer my question." John shrugged. "Found your badge between the pounds", he stated, as if that was an everyday occurrence. Well, for him it was, Sherlock supposed. To his own surprise he chuckled. He hadn't heard himself chuckle since many years and he immediately stopped, frowning at himself. The blond man who he was still holding against the wall just watched him curiously.
"Oh, are you in business too? Sorry man, if I got in your territory. Lost track a bit yesterday." He smiled apologetically.
"What? No, no, I'm not a thief", the detective shook his head, stopping himself from chuckling again. What was it today with him?

~~~ 

John wasn't surprised often. But as he stood pinned against the wall of the hut in which he momentarily lived, pinned of course by the tall man with the dark curls who he had thought to be an Inspector, he was surprised. Pretty surprised, really, but not of the man in front of him, no. John Watson was astonished by himself. Because when he looked into his eyes whose colour he couldn't identify (it looked like a beautiful mix of green, blue, grey and gold), he found himself trusting this man.

The pickpocket had only one rule in his life: Trust nobody. And now some strange guy who seemed to know everything about him walked into his hut, pinning him against the wall, and John Watson trusted him.

He watched him curiously. If that wasn't his badge, he had to be a thief too. It wasn't very likely, because John knew all the good pickpockets of London, but the possibility was still there.

"Oh, are you in business too? Sorry man, if I got in your territory. Lost track a bit yesterday." He smiled apologetically.

"What? No, no, I'm not a thief!" The man in front of him seemed to suppress a smile. John just raised an eyebrow.

"So, who are you then?"

"I'm a consulting detective. I help the police. To be precise I mostly help DI Lestrade", he answered shrugging. Then he tilted his head, no emotion passing his face as he seemed to scan John. The pickpocket felt a little uneasiness crawling up his back under the intense stare. Was he going to get arrested? That would be shit, really. He had managed to steal his whole life since he was eleven without getting arrested. He didn't want to get started with that now. The detective in front of him took a deep breath, before saying the last thing John expected.

"I need an assistant. Anderson doesn't work with me. I think you're the right man for that task. Meet me tomorrow at 4 pm. I have a room for you, if you're going to accept. You can't stay in this", he waved a hand to the mattress, "dust."

Then he released John from his grip and began to walk to the door.

"That's it?", John asked, gaping at the back of the detective. He turned around, the question clearly written on his face."

"We know each other for five minutes and you get me a job as your assistant on crime scenes, i hope you can see the irony, because you don't work with an Anderson, whatever that is, and ask me to move in with you at a place you haven't told me where? I don't even know your name!" He shook his head incredulously.

The sleuth seemed unimpressed. "I didn't ask you", he stated.
"Yeah, more like demanded", John muttered, but the tall man didn't listen to him. He pulled the door open. Turning his head back to John, he said: "The Name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Bakerstreet."

He winked and with the door closing, he disappeared out into the night.
John just stared at out of the shattered window, not able to move. What the hell was that?!, the thought.

AN: First meeting succeded! Yay :)
- I don't own anything - 
Merry Christmas
~ Allie