beyond the gravestones (sherlock/johnlock fanfic)

Chapter 2

A/N: Kinda a filler chapter. The action starts in the next one.

2 HOURS AGO

John straightened Rosie's bag on his shoulder and set off down the stairs. He'd forgotten how much he missed living at Baker Street and running around solving crimes with Sherlock. Sure, Sherlock could be insufferable, but there was never a dull moment with him around. John had been helping out with the renovations at Baker Street and eventually ended up staying; the house he had shared with Mary was too big, too empty. Besides, being friends with Sherlock Holmes meant being able to drop everything and run out on an errand at a moment's notice. It meant midnight stakeouts and pre-dawn chases through the city. It meant sleepless nights spent pondering over cases, or slumber rudely awakened by Sherlock thumping his way through 221B. Add a baby to the equation and life got even more complicated; if he needed to go off with Sherlock on a wild goose chase, it was just a lot more convenient to leave Rosie with Mrs Hudson.

John was both jealous and glad that so many people constantly clamoured for Rosie's attention. Mrs Hudson thought her a delight. Molly begged to look after her whenever she was free from the mortuary, and Harry had asked to babysit her once or twice. John had promised his sister that if she remained clean for a few months, she could have Rosie to herself. Even Lestrade wanted to spend time with Rosie.

Whenever John saw Sherlock and Rosie together, he had to resist an urge to laugh. Sherlock treated her with extreme trepidation, as if afraid that she would dissolve into fragments of glass at any moment. He was always unsure about how to deal with her tantrums and soothe her, but she seemed to think him funny. Everytime he walked by, she held out her chubby little arms and if he picked her up, clutched on to him for dear life. When he was solving a case, he often muttered to her, and she would smile. If she saw him working with his chemicals at the kitchen table, lab-goggles on, she giggled gleefully. Everytime she smiled or laughed or clamoured to be held, John could almost see something melting in Sherlock's eyes. It was at moments like these that something inexplicable would rise in John's stomach - he wasn't sure if it was grief for Mary or happiness for Sherlock - and he had to turn away and compose himself.

As John stepped out into the crisp London air, someone asked, "Cab, sir?" John nodded and loaded himself into the back of the black car. He quickly gave the cabbie directions to Molly's house. As they wound through the busy streets of London, he frowned and looked around. Something seemed wrong. They weren't on the path he always took to Molly's. In fact, by now they were somewhere else entirely; a rather isolated stretch of road with a few trees on either side. He was about to ask the cabbie where they were going, when the car gave an almighty lurch and swerved sharply. He barely had time to shield Rosie with his body before the car crashed into a tree - and after that, he saw red.

***

The cab had barely drawn up at the gate to St. Bart's, but Sherlock was already out of the car. He practically flew up the driveway and through the doors, down to the reception area, where he prepared himself to push his way to the front of the line. However, he didn't need to, for Molly Hooper was already waiting for him. She looked tired and drawn, and as soon as she saw him, her face clouded over.

"I had the early shift," she told him, leading him through the corridors. "I was just about to go home and take over Rosie's babysitting duties for a bit, when I saw them both being wheeled in. Apparently the cab just kind of...swerved off the road and into a tree. John isn't severely injured, but he's still getting stitched up. He was really agitated, kept yelling and asking for Rosie, so they sedated him."