It's An Experiment

A Matter of Time

"What?" Sherlock asked, wide eyed. John still avoided his eyes.

"Just what I said." John told him. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.

"Is this a riddle? Maybe the person you fancy looks like me. Or they act like me." Sherlock tried to reason. There could be no way that John meant what he meant. John's face was red.

"I meant what I said! No hidden meaning behind it! 100% the truth! I fancy you Sherlock! Gosh you can be such an airhead sometimes." John exclaimed. He was now sitting up, and leaning towards Sherlock. He tried to stand up, but immediately fell back down on the couch in pain. He needed to take another dose for his pain. He looked around, but couldn't see it.

'Shit.' He thought. 'It's in my room.'

Sherlock knew what John needed, and headed to his room to fetch him the bottle, then handed it to John. John took the pills dry.

"I wouldn't classify myself as an airhead. Maybe it's just hard for me to believe others when I want to believe what they say." Sherlock said. John took a double take.

"So you... want to believe... that I'm telling the truth?" John asked slowly. Sherlock's usually pale cheeks were dusted pink.

"I guess I've fancied you for awhile, but had not really thought about it. But lately I was thinking a lot about it. I guess I want to just believe that the feeling is mutual." Sherlock said. Now it was his turn to try to avoid eye contact.

John smiled. "I guess Mycroft was right. You are dense." John laughed lightly. His laughing grew, and he had to cover his mouth and close his eyes. Sherlock made sure to watch John. That way he had a mental video of John laughing. He looked... adorable. John's laughing was becoming infectious, and soon Sherlock was giggling along. He had nothing to laugh about, but yet he still laughed. He felt light, and he felt genuine emotions for the first time in awhile. The laughing finally died down, and John tried to change the subject.

"I'll order us some food. What would it be?" John asked.

"Mexican is fine." Sherlock said. John dialed the number, and ordered their usual meals. Sherlock got a dish of brown rice with black beans, and John got a shrimp and rice bowl.

Sherlock grabbed the order when it arrived, and gave John his meal. They ate in silence.

Sherlock and John read a little on the couch before John headed to bed. Sherlock decided to relax in his own bed for the night, and escaped to his mind palace. He relayed all his fond memories, mainly consisting of John and him.

The end of the week arrived, and John's leg was technically healed. He still used the crutches on occasion, or used his old cane. And he still needed to take pain medication every breakfast. But John was now allowed to walk around without having to elevate his foot. Although he still needed Sherlock's help going up an down the stairs.

They were heading to the morgue where Newman's body was. Usually a case like this would've been solved in a couple of days, but without Sherlock, the police couldn't find the culprit.

"Hello Molly." John greeted as he hobbled into the morgue, with Sherlock following.

"Hi John. Sherlock." Molly greeted. She was looking in a microscope lens.

"Have you found anything new about Newman's killer, or has the police done nothing while we were gone?" Sherlock asked.

"The police were asking around the area, but no one knew anything. Whoever killed Edgar Newman is skilled. It might've been an assassin hired from someone else." Molly told them. John sat down on a stool to rest his leg. Molly looked away from the microscope to talk to them.

"At this point, I'm analyzing everything that was collected, and that was on Edgar Newman's person. I've found nothing. Whoever killed him didn't lay a hand on him. So it's kind of hard with no finger prints or fibers." Molly explained. Sherlock thought.

"Was there anything in his system?" Sherlock asked. Molly nodded.

"Yeah. We found anesthetics in his system. Given in a shot form. I found the hole in his arm pit. So the killer most likely knocked him out, then poked him in the heart, which was the actual cause of death." Molly said.

"Don't you think that's something important? Anesthetics are not something you can get at your local pharmacy." John pointed out.

"Yeah but someone who was/is an anesthesiologist, or is friends with one can get it easily. My friend in forensics was able to determine the type of needle used for the injection, but it's the most generic needle. It would be impossible to track it down to just one company, let alone one person." She said.

"I think looking for an anesthesiologist would be a waste of time." Sherlock commented. He thought for a bit.

"What if Moriarty was behind this?" John thought aloud. Sherlock and Molly looked a bit skeptical. "I mean it would make sense. Newman is a wealthy businessman, who has some pull in the parliament. What if Moriarty felt he was a threat in some way, and called an assassin on him? We all know that Moriarty has a lot of connections." John suggested. Sherlock thought.

"It's plausible, but unlikely. Moriarty likes to get rid of people, not kill. If he wanted Edgar gone, he wouldn't have done it in a motel. He would have set up an elaborate scheme, and Edgar would go missing forever. No one would know where he went, and it would be an unsolved case." Sherlock said. Molly got an idea.

"Actually, I think John is onto something. We know that Moriarty is capable of anything and everything. But what if he want people to know that Edgar Newman was killed. What if he purposely wanted him to be killed in a public area, so it would throw you two off." Molly agreed. Sherlock thought about it. Moriarty wasn't one for showing patterns. It may have actually been him.

"Well I don't think we can do much with Edgar except ask around the homeless community. We should wait and see if something else significant happens. Knowing Moriarty, he'd do something else if he got away with the previous crime. It'll be a matter of time." Sherlock suggested. John and Sherlock left the morgue, and walked around the dilapidated sections of London, and around the motel area. Some of the homeless said they saw a black car bring the two to the motel, but no one got an actual look at the accompanying man's face.

Sherlock and John decided to head home early, and wait it out. And just as Sherlock said, it would be a matter of time.