Married to My Work, Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Friends, Enemies, and Sherlock Holmes


Without much else to do the day after he moved in John texted Moran about getting a drink. A few hours later he was sitting on a bar stool in a quiet pub. He looked around after ordering two beers, wondering what was taking Sebastian. He had started getting interesting in the football game playing on the telly by the time Moran sat next to him.

“Sorry I am late, the boss needed me for an extra job today.” Moran said gruffly.

“I take it you got that position you mentioned before?” John inquired with a smile.

“Yep. Hows Holmes treating you?” Moran asked picking up his glass and taking a swig.

“Alright, he mostly keeps to himself.”

They drank in silence until Moran said, “I know you know I am wondering about your leg, and I know you noticed this.” He ran a finger over his scar, “How about we swap stories, one soldier to another.”

John looked down at his glass and traced a swirl in the condensation. He liked Moran, but he was not sure he was ready to talk about his leg. Deep down he knew he just didn’t want to think about it.

“Maybe later then.” Sebastian said taking a sip of beer before chuckling, “This isn’t even from my time, I fell with a pair of hedge clippers when I was six.”

John looked up at the scar and reevaluated it. “It should not be so severe, your doctor did a terrible job stitching it.”

“This is the handy work of my old man and some dental floss.” Moran said with a grin and John cringed inwardly, “at least he didn’t use mint.” There was a chirp from one of Sebastian’s pockets and he pulled out his phone, “I need to go, it was nice having a drink with you. We will do this again soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” John replied, disappointed he had only been with is friends for about five minutes.

Moran got up from his stool and gave John a joking salute, “Until next time.”


John sat alone to finish his drink, and was surprised when his phone buzzed.

“Come at once if convenient.

-SH”

John stood quickly from his seat and limped out the door of the pub. He felt his phone buzz again but was too intent on getting to the tube station before the train left to check it.


He managed to squeeze into a packed car and stand with one hand clutching the bar, the other holding his cane. He frowned when he noticed several of the passengers sneaking glances at him.  At the next stop all of the other passengers exited the car. He licked his suddenly dry lips and shifted nervously, remaining on his feet despite the surplus of seats. The doors closed and a man stepped from the control booth, whirling an umbrella with one hand.

“The leg must be hurting you. Sit down.” he said glancing at it pointedly.

John tightened his grip on his cane as the train lurched into motion. “I don’t want to sit down.”

“You don’t seem very afraid.” the stranger said tilting his head. His eyes seemed to bore into him, and it was different from when Sherlock’s had. Sherlock had had an air of curiosity, but this man was cold and evaluating.

“You don’t seem very frightening.” John shrugged.

The man stopped in front of him and smiled. “Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don’t you think?” he paused to let the insult sink in before inquiring, “What is your connection to  Sherlock Holmes?”

“He is my employer.” John responded curtly. “Whats yours?”

“I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having.”

“And what’s that?” John asked.

“An enemy.”

“An enemy?” John figured this man was the reason Mycroft wanted Sherlock to have a body guard.

“In his mind, certainly. Do you plan to continue your employment with Sherlock Holmes?”

“I could be wrong... but I think that’s none of your business.”

“It could be.” The man persisted.

“It really couldn’t.” John muttered quickly checking the most recent message from Sherlock.

“If inconvenient come anyway.
- SH”

“If you do move into, um... two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, I’d be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way. Double whatever your employer is offering, in fact.”

“Why?” John asked shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Because you’re not a wealthy man. And I need information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you’d feel... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.”

“And why would you want to know this?”

“I worry about him. Constantly.”

“That’s nice of you.” John replied sarcastically.

Ignoring John’s tone the man continued, “But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a... difficult relationship.”

“No.”

“You’re very loyal, very quickly.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just not interested.” and it kind of goes against my job description John finished in his head.

“Trust issues, it says here.” the man said pulling a small note book from his pocket.

“What’s that?” John asked although he had recognize it instantly as the book one of his old therapist took notes in.

“Could it be that you’ve decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?”

“I just work for him. Who says I trust him?”

“You don’t seem the kind to make friends easily.”

“Are we done?”

The tube pulled into the station and the doors opened. “You tell me.”



Wanting to relay the experience to Sherlock and find out the meaning of the texts John hurried up the drive and unlocked the door. Following the sound of soft violin music he found Sherlock in the living room. John’s attention was immediately distracted by the patches on Sherlock's skin. “Are those two nicotine patches?”

“Three,” The violinist hummed as he continued to run his bow across the strings, 
“it helps me concentrate.”

“Okay. Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock replied serenely.

John sighed not bothering to pursue the subject, “I met a friend of yours on the tube.”

“A friend?” Sherlock asked sounding apprehensive and for the first time looking up from the strings.

“Well, he called himself your arch enemy. I know people can hold a grudge bu-”

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?” Sherlock interrupted.

“Yes.”

Sherlock relaxed “Did you take it?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

“Who is he? Should I be worried about keeping him away from you?”

“Did he have an umbrella and three piece suit?” Sherlock asked returning to his instrument

“Yes.”

“That was my brother. It appears you passed his test because you made it back here.”

“Right.” John said noticing Sherlock wasn't listening to him anymore. “Well, good night.”

He had nearly made it to his room when Sherlock murmured, “Pass me my phone.”

“Hm, where is it?”

“On the desk.” The violinist said lazily pointing to it with his bow.

John stared at it. The desk was about a foot away from Sherlock, but an entire room away from him. Sighing he adjusted his grip on his cane and made his way to the desk. He picked up the phone and held it out to Sherlock, who put his hand out, clearly wanting John to place it on his palm. Silently wondering if he had been hired to be a butler rather than private security he put the phone in the man’s hand, who took it with out a thank you.

Shaking his head he made his way back to his room and shut the door.