Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Sherlock, I'm home! Come down and help me with this stuff, yeah?" John called up the stairs, carrying bags full of groceries. It was quiet. Odd. Not even the sound of his violin could be heard.

"Sherlock?" He tried again. The room was quiet and no response was heard from the flat above. Until suddenly a crash of falling glasses came and the sounds of fabric ripping pierced the now-tense air.

Mrs Hudson upon hearing the noise appears from behind John in a flash, "Goodness John! what was that sound?" She said worryingly. A sigh escaped her "What's he on to now?" She exclaimed.

John whips his head around to face her then he faces the stairwell "I- I don't know. Let me, um, let me look" he was fully alert now. The sound of fabric was heard again. Blast. What on earth was he doing now? That better not be one of his jumpers being ripped or so help him God-

He set the bags down and climbed the stairs in a hurried speed. The air in his leg let out a puff from the motion. When he entered the doorway to their flat, he called out,

"Sherlock! I told you to leave my jumpers-"

A pair of wild, piercing eyes met his.

"alone."

Those wild eyes were not the ones of the great detective, but ones of a cat. A bloody huge cat. Stuffing was scattered around the already cluttered floor. What remained of the pillow was being held captive in the dark cat's mouth. How the hell did this thing get into their flat? Sherlock was nowhere to be found until a flat baritone voice was heard behind him,

"Ah, John. Welcome home. You can put the milk in the fridge, first shelf. I plan to use the second one." John turned to face the man with exasperation. His widened eyes met Sherlock's bored ones.

"Sherlock," John licked his lips and his eyes blinked in thought as he tried to form proper words.

"John," Sherlock responded.

"Sherlock, why is there a wild animal in our flat?" John quipped. He flexed his left hand in agitation.

"For a case, obviously. Remember the Circus Belle case, John? They owed me a favour, hence the trained animal. Why else would it be here?" Sherlock remarked.

"I never know with you, Sherlock." He looked around the flat, taking in the murder scene that was the torn-up pillow, "God, Sherlock, look at this mess! What's Mrs. Hudson going to think when she-" a gasp was heard from behind them which made him pause.

John cringed inwardly at Mrs. Hudson's arrival. Mrs. Hudson dashed forward and covered her mouth with both hands, "My pillows! What's happened!?" She groaned, "We are getting new pillows out of your next rent payment!"

Sherlock, as stoic as ever, just blinked boredly and sighed, "Please, you both know this is not the worst thing that's occurred in this flat. I rather find it to be quite mute in comparison."

A big yawn was heard from the beast behind the trio. Mrs. Hudson paused in her tracks as she slowly turned toward the noise, "Oh, dear! Sherlock Holmes is that a panther in my flat!?" She exclaimed.

"Brilliant observation, Mrs. Hudson. I was afraid you wouldn't catch on. Now that we are all in collective company. John and I have a case."

"Well, I'll let you two get on that. I'm off out! I'll talk to you boys in a bit, and Sherlock Holmes, you better clean this mess up! No more of this, young man!" She scolded gently and she exited the room.

The detective simply rolled his eyes, but we all knew within the coming week, he would replace her pillows.

"Anyways, the case, John," Sherlock stated, his tone growing more bored by the minute.

"Sherlock, I have a dat-" John tried stating

"Skip it, John! This is important." Sherlock interjected.

"Important? Sherlock, I can't keep calling these things off!" John's patience was thinning.

"Please, John, it never would have worked anyway. She's strictly interested for coital purposes." Sherlock deduced.

John could feel his anger bubbling. He never could have anything it seemed. Sherlock Holmes was always there to intervene. No matter the occasion.

"You should have let me figure that out for myself! That wasn't up to you to decide that for me! I am allowed to date, Sherlock! I don't even want to know how you came to that conclusion." John shouted.

Sherlock paused for a moment before he spoke, "Your laptop. You left it open. Based on the string of messages and replies, it was more than clear as to what her intentions were. I was saving your time. That is a kind thing to do, remember? You being taken advantage of by some woman is not only unfair to your luminance, but it impacts the work. Not good for either of us." He bit.

"No, Sherlock, that is not kind! Don't you remember me saying that when you broke Molly and Moriarty up? Which we didn't know it was him at the time, but still. You should have allowed me to go on that date and let me decide what I wanted for myself! I deserve time outside of the work. I need company, Sherlock! I want a partner! This is the last time you break up one of my dates!"

"Isn't that what we are?" Sherlock asked. A look of genuine puzzlement on the detective's face. His eyes showed that he was even a bit hurt by his words. Other than that he just looked puzzled.

"Sorry, what?" John was caught off guard.

"Partner's John. I thought we were partners. We live together, work together, share company together, we have fun together. Isn't that what partners do?" Sherlock questioned.

"Sherlock, I, no- no, we are not partners. That is not the kind of partner I am talking about. I mean the one I want to wake up to, have dinner with, go to bed with, build a life with. Things like that."

Sherlock, shockingly, said nothing. Only a light "Ah," and "I see," to make it clear he understood what John was saying. Sherlock was conflicted. He didn't understand. They did all of those things. They were partners. Not to the level John was suggesting, but still partners all the same.

He hadn't given romance much thought. Not really. He tended to avoid the subject, but if there was anyone he would share his world with, it would be with his brilliant doctor. Alas, romance of any regard was out of the question. They needed to stay focused on the work, no matter the person, and with John's differing preferences, that did complicate matters. For now, he would leave the subject be. It wasn't worth thinking deeply on at the moment, so he'll store it away for later.

There was a long, pregnant silence. Until Sherlock spoke, "Right," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "So, the Zoo."

"The zoo?"

"You heard me quite clearly, John. You know how I am in regards to repetition. I tend to avoid it."

"Right. So, what are we needed for?" John looked at Sherlock with an expectant look.

"Animals are disappearing from their cages." Sherlock cryptically answered.

"You're certain they didn't just, I don't know, escape?"

"Quite certain, John. You see, it is only the exotic animals that hold value within fashion industries. Like wild cats and crocodiles. That's not the only thing though, that much is obvious." Sherlock explained.

"Sherlock, you're doing it again. What else? It is not obvious," John saw Sherlock give him a glance and then ventured toward his desk where he plopped down a file into John's arms.

"Read through it, John. Tell me what you obverse." Sherlock peered over the file as John opened it up to look through.

"Well, let's see," John mumbled.

As he opened the file he began to read through the newsletters, job applications, and missing person reports. Hmm. John then saw dates. The time resignation of two of the staff fell 2 days before the night a few of the animals disappeared. By the looks of things, this is not the first time this happened. The simple answer would be the former staff were all in on it, took these animals somewhere to traffic, and fled. Considering Sherlock Holmes took the case it couldn't have been that simple.

Sherlock's baritone broke through John's thoughts, "I can hear you thinking, John. Go on."

"The dates," John began.

"Yes, continue." Sherlock barked.

John gave him a glare and continued talking, "The dates of two of the staffs missing reports. Exactly two days before the animals went missing. Which usually wouldn't seem odd," he trailed on.

"But?" Sherlock questioned cryptically.

"The staff who went missing were the ones watching and caring for the enclosures the day the animals went missing." John finished.

"Brilliant John! Now, we can move on to the main event!" Sherlock's eyes danced with excitement, with a light twinkle of mischief.

"Right, the cat," John grumbled looking at the wild cat lounging on the floor.

"Indeed, John. She and you are the keys to solving our case." Sherlock explained. The cat looked at John and Sherlock as the detective began explaining the events of the case.

John could read between the lines. He knew what "keys" meant. He was the bait.

Chapter Text

"Which is why I had taken the opportunity to fill out a security application last week while you were away at the clinic. We should be hearing back from them anytime now if they haven't sent you an email already." Sherlock dashed past John and unlocked the doctor's laptop.

"You did, what?! Sherlock! I already have a job at the clinic! You- I-" The doctor sighed exasperated. He knew he couldn't fight the detective on this. His eyes fluttered around as he huffed.

"And what will you be doing, Sherlock?" John pursed his lips and gave Sherlock an annoyed and expectant look.

"I'll be a zookeeper, of course. Someone is going to need to keep a closer eye on the animal and enclosure itself." Sherlock stated proudly.

"Sherlock, do you even know the first thing about taking care of an animal? Let alone a wild one? You hate getting dirt on your shoes! How do you expect to take care of an entire enclosure?" John pressed on.

Sherlock Holmes was as posh as they came. He knew the man dealt with horrid and disgusting things; but those things, much like the great detective, weren't normal. They were extraordinary things. He had never seen the man work an average job in his life.

Sherlock turned away from the laptop and glared at John, "I wasn't completely sheltered, John. I do know the basic needs of animal care. Besides, my trousers will be longer in length, the dirt likely won't scuff and ruin my boots. My job will be to feed the animal. I won't be the one cleaning up after the enclosure." Sherlock huffed at the doctor and went back to checking the emails on John's laptop.

Okay, even if he did know basic animal care. This was not any basic animal. Plus, Zookeepers did more than just feed the animals. Not that he would tell the detective that. For as observant as the man was, he was truly oblivious. He would've found it charming if he wasn't already in a bad mood. His leg was aching and he still hadn't even put the shopping away. Oh, shit! The shopping!

John quickly became alert "We'll continue this conversation in a moment. I forgot to bring the shopping up. Hopefully, the milk is still good." He turned to head out the door when an ache shot through what remained of his left leg.

"Ah! Son of a..." John groaned. He definitely is gonna take this leg off as soon as he gets the shopping and puts them away.

Sherlock upon hearing the doctor cry out whipped his head around to see John leaning his arm against the door frame. Quickly, he closed the laptop and went to the doctor's side.

"I'll handle the shopping, John. You need to sit down." Sherlock stated.

"I'm fine, Sherlock. It's just the socket. I've had my leg on all day, so the air has built up and made me a bit sore." John countered. Sherlock was a stubborn sod. He wouldn't give up that easily.

"No, John. I know you've been having phantom pains recently. The recent weather hasn't helped your pains in the slightest and I need my doctor in full health for this case. So, sit down." Sherlock's icy eyes met John's stormy ones. The detective's eyes clearly read he wasn't backing down. "Please?" Sherlock finished.

John sighed, "Fine!" He huffed "Fine. I'll sit, but make sure you put-"

"'The dairy and eggs away first, so they won't spoil' I know, John. Just go and sit. I'll be back in a moment. Then, we'll discuss more about our case."

Sherlock watched as John went to go sit down. He walked with strong yet careful steps. The puffs of air from his prosthetic cut through the air. He never talked to John about his leg. He figured if he wanted to discuss it, he would. He didn't normally see John without his leg or his adaptive sock. He could see how uncomfortable it made his doctor for people to see him without it. When he did though, he felt -- trusted. That he was allowed to see that side of John. The doctor. The solider. But most importantly, the aftermath of both titles, just John Watson. His doctor.

He didn't pity the man, no. He was -- in awe. The strength he saw in his doctor was something he never saw in anyone else. A truly radiant, conductor of light.

"Sherlock...Sherlock!" John was calling his name, causing the man to break from his thoughts. "You're staring." John looked a bit sheepish. Oh. Right. He likely made the man uncomfortable. He likely assumed he was staring at his leg alone.

"Right," he cleared his throat, "I'll just -- be off then. 'Back in a moment." He went out the door and went down the stairs to pick up the groceries that lay at the bottom. Clearly based on the way the handles of the bags were all leaned inwards toward each other, John was holding all of them and was planning to haul all of these up the stairs on his own before setting them down after hearing the ruckus upstairs. Because of Sherlock. Sherlock felt some guilt creep in just a bit.

John tried hauling all of them at once because he knew Sherlock wouldn't help him carry them up the stairs. Then he was about to go back down the stairs to haul them up again on his own. His leg prevented him from doing so. Sometimes he didn't know why John still bothered with him. Maybe he felt obligated. After everything. The detective sighed as he grabbed the shopping and began scaling the steps. He simmered his thoughts before they had a chance to overflow. He bumped his hip into the door, entered the flat, and made his way over to the kitchen. He placed the shopping down onto the counter. Then began putting them away accordingly.

He owed John. So, the detective did what they always did when they disagreed. He made him tea. He waited for the tea to be done steeping. Upon seeing it steam just right. He poured them each a cup. His sweet and John's just ordinary. Just like them. Sherlock always needed more but John -- John didn't need anything. He could just be John.

Chapter Text

Sherlock walked over to his chair, both cups hand in hand. He quietly handed John a cup. John looked at Sherlock with surprise. He never made tea. He looked up at Sherlock to see his ivory skin ghosted with a rosy tint. Sherlock did not make eye contact with John. He just sat down in his seat across from him and brought the cup to his lips. Still not making eye contact. John finally understood and chuckled. Upon hearing the doctors laugh, Sherlock's grey eyes shot up from the fireplace now looking at John with a curiousity.

"Sherlock, you do not need to apologise. I was fine carrying the shopping." John said with a light grin. He took a sip of his tea before setting it down onto his chair-side table.

"I do, John. You were having pains and then upon hearing noises from our flat, you were alarmed. So, you had to set everything down. You clearly weren't in fit condition and then were going to get the shopping anyway. You weren't even expecting me to help because of my unreliability." Sherlock explained. Looking down into his cup.

"You aren't unreliable, Sherlock. I just figured you didn't hear me calling you. I wasn't upset. I did get worried though when I heard those sounds and no reply from you, so I went to investigate. I didn't ask you when I came back up because you were focused on gathering things for our case to tell me about. I wasn't upset with you. You do not need to apologise. You know when I'm upset. For being the most brilliant man in London, you truly are oblivious." John grinned.

He leaned forward and gave Sherlock's knee a gentle reassuring squeeze before he leaned back to begin removing his leg.

He glanced over at John who sat in his chair, taking off his leg to reveal the adaptive sock and gel liner underneath. A light fire began to churn in the fireplace. John must have tried starting one while he was downstairs gathering the shopping and brewing around his thoughts. The heat will likely help his aching limb. John took off his sock and began rolling the gel liner off of his leg. The doctor's relief was very much shown on his face now that the prosthetic had been removed. He began to massage his stump to take out any of the remaining tension.

The fire reflected the time gone by beautifully. Before the detective met the doctor, his home was not really a home. Merely a workspace and a place to sleep. Now that the doctor was here he couldn't imagine Baker Street without him or his daughter. Rosie was a bright girl. She is going to be 4 soon. She was the image of John. Golden blonde hair, kind smile. Her eyes were John's as well but the glimmer that twinkled in her eyes was her mother's. Intelligent and full of mischief. Mary and John. A beautiful combination.

Looking at John now, he could see how time had changed him. His blonde hair had now faded to a beautiful grey. The fire brushed John's face with a soft glow, showcasing more age lines than before, and the man was more at peace than he used to be. Sherlock loved what time had done to him. Time had shaped Sherlock too. Each day the detective saw strands of grey sprouting within his inky curls, he smiled more now that he had a reason to.

Time had given him a gift. It gave him John. A man who showed him why being human is something truly remarkable. He didn't notice until he came home and he saw John and Rosie playing on the floor of the flat. Rosie was wearing his hat. Deerstalkers are hideous things and weighed down his curls but it suited the little Watson. He had a family now. He truly knew what it felt like to feel accepted and be human. The doctor taught him that. Sherlock's eyes swirled with mirth as he watched the doctor.

"We've got to work on your staring. Your eyes will kill a man if you look at them wrong." John grinned.

"Would make for an interesting case. Man Killed By Stare. Baffles Scotland Yard Once Again!" Sherlock quipped with a chuckle.

"So, onto the case then?" John presumed.

"Yes," Sherlock stated.

"When do we leave?" John questioned.

"Tomorrow afternoon. We have job interviews." Sherlock answered.

"Ah. It's a good thing Rosie's with Molly for the weekend, eh?" John said.

"Indeed. She would never forgive us if she knew we went to the zoo without her" he smiled at the thought of having to face the wrath of a pouting Watson. "Should we bring her something?" Sherlock suggested.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea, really," John answered. The fact that Sherlock put as much thought as he did into his daughter should have surprised the doctor but it didn't. Sherlock loved Rosie. He may not be as skilled as the detective was in terms of deducing but he knew. Every day he saw the man, it was always either "How's Rosie?" "I noticed she was doing this more recently", "I'll tend to her, John", "I'll phone Molly". He knew he made the right decision making him her godfather. Sherlock had become an amazing man, friend, and now father. He could see how hesitant Sherlock was to accept the title. He felt guilt after Mary. John didn't help much there either. Sherlock was trying to respect John after everything. Rosie didn't know though, to her, Sherlock was just her Lock. She never called him his full name. She flipped between Sher and Lock. He found it endearing. It made the detective's heart flutter too.

"What should we get her, you think?" John asked.

"Hmm. Well, she has been on a bit of a bee kick recently." Sherlock stated.

"Gee, I wonder where she got that from," John teased with a grin. She may not be Sherlock's, but he could see the detective in his daughter in many ways. It was precious he thought. The pout she has definitely does not come from him or Mary. There's only one other person with that pout and that was the man sitting across from him. He's glad Rosie has Sherlock. Hell, he's glad he has Sherlock. It's good to be home.

"I cannot help that she has good taste in interests." The detective smirked, looking up from his cup.

"Ha! Let's hope she doesn't take up the interest of putting god knows what in our fridge." John laughed.

"Mmm. I don't know, John. You'd be quite surprised at the mischief Miss Watson has gotten up to." Sherlock bantered with a cocked brow.

"Oh? Well, is there something you need to tell me about Miss Watson, Mr. Holmes?" John quipped.

"Not at all, Dr. Watson. I made her a pinkie promise and I have been sworn to secrecy." He dramatically places his hand over his heart and sends the doctor a cheeky wink.

"Not involving her papa in her secrets? I'm hurt."

"Well, you are a doctor, John. I'm sure you have the proper materials to mend your wounds."

"Oh! Piss off, you cock!" John laughed. He glanced at his watch and then to the window behind Sherlock. It was getting late and it seemed they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow.

"Mm. Dull. Heading off to bed are you?" Sherlock deduced. The detective rose from his chair and walked over to John, "Want me to take your cup? I won't be resting anytime soon, but you knew that already." Sherlock leaned down and took the doctor's empty cup in hand and carried his own in the other.

"If you would, cheers. I need to get this bloody thing back on only to take it off again," John said as he smacked the socket of his prosthetic. "Pain in my arse this thing is," John grumbled as he put his gel liner on. After a short while, the click of his pin and socket was heard and the doctor was ready to go. "Help me up, yeah?" John asked as he brought his right hand up.

"Oh! Of course, yes. Let me just," Sherlock placed the cups on the side table and extended his hand towards John. Meeting John's strong grip he pulled the doctor up.

"Ah... that's better. Ta, mate." John gave Sherlock's shoulder a squeeze and a thankful pat. The pressure of air that was trapped in his leg left with a loud "puff!"

"I'm off to bed then," John said walking toward the direction of his bedroom. He turned to look at Sherlock. "Goodnite, Sherlock." John smiled tiredly as went to his room.

"Goodnite, John," Sherlock smiled as he picked up their empty cups and went to the kitchen.

He stood at the counter and listened as the puffing of John's leg got quieter and quieter until he heard the doctor's door close with a gentle click.

The detective began to wash the used dishes from that day. As time passed and he completed the light task, he ventured over to the sitting room and brought out his violin to play a gentle melody to lull his doctor into a peaceful sleep. The longer he played, the more his mind wandered into the plot of what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

The night flew by and morning had arrived. The sun came in to greet the doctor as he sluggishly woke from his bed. He noticed something odd. Once again, the flat is quiet. No clinking of petri dishes and sizzling sounds. No gunshots. And most of all no violin. Weird. Rosie wasn't here, so for the detective to not even be playing his violin was strange. The doctor sat up in his bed, pulled in shirt on, put on his leg, and set off to find the cause of the silence.

As he began approaching the sitting room, he found out that the flat was not completely silent after all. Quiet snores were heard from the chair. Snores that came from the great detective. The man sat with his legs swung over the arms, mouth slightly agape and sheets of unfinished music lay in his lap and scattered on the floor. There laid John's answer. The detective was asleep. John smiled at the sight. He hardly witnessed the detective asleep, but when he did, it was definitely a sight. The man's already wild curls fell in front of his face. His face looked younger when asleep. He looked like his mind had finally slowed down.

John approached the detective and began picking up the detective's musical sheets when something caught his eye. The music he was writing was for him and Rosie. It was simply titled "The Watsons." He noticed some ink smudged on the detective's face from writing. An endearing grin came across his face. He must have been exhausted. He carefully licked his thumb and gently rubbed the ink smudge off of Sherlock's face. The detective stirred slightly but did not wake. John breathed a collective sigh. He'd let the man sleep while he prepared morning tea and breakfast. They'd get to discussing the case later once they'd eaten.

John turned away from the detective and made his way toward the kitchen to begin breakfast. The doctor began putting tea on and set off to the fridge to get some ingredients for breakfast.

He opened the fridge, and before he could collect the items he needed a foul stench flooded his nose. Oh God... Sherlock.. John took a deep breath to prevent himself from becoming agitated. On the 2nd shelf sat a plastic tub of different marked vegetables and meats, all of each were at different levels of decomposition. The smells of rotten food invaded his nose. All signals in his brain told him "Get these bloody things out of here!" he knew Sherlock must have had it there for a reason because he hardly kept as many things in the fridge since having Rosie around. Sighing at the scene in front of him, he grabbed the supplies for breakfast and got started on their meal.

The doctor hummed as he finished and plated their meals. The warm rise from their breakfast spread throughout the flat, cloaking the once prominent smell of rotten vegetables. Now that their meals were done, John could start on the dishes he'd dirtied from cooking. The doctor rolled up his jumper, revealing his toned yet scared arms underneath. He began washing the dishes when he heard a groan come from the other room.

" John?..." the younger man groaned.

The doctor perked up at the sound of the familiar baritone. John turned off the water and grabbed a dry cloth. He began walking toward the sitting room where the detective was currently stretching his fatigue away.

"Morning. I made breakfast. Hungry?" John asked as he wiped his hands off with the dry cloth.

"Mm," Sherlock grumbled. Since he'd known the man he had come to learn one thing. Sherlock Holmes was not a morning person. Preferably, he'd rather not sleep at all, but when he did, he loathed being disturbed in the mornings.

"What was that?" John cocked his brow.

"Tea, John. Just tea.." Sherlock spoke up. He placed his head in his hands exhaustedly.

John nodded and went back to the kitchen. He plated his food and a small thing of biscuits for Sherlock. The man needed to have something. He made his way back to the room and handed Sherlock his tea and morning meal. Well, a portion of a meal. He'd save Sherlock some of the leftovers for him to take later. He always did.

Sherlock nodded in thanks and took the plate and cup from John.

"So, onto the case, finally?" John asked.

"Indeed, John. Finally. So, around 1 PM I will be going in for my interview first thing. Miss Raanee has already been transported to the zoo so that matter has been taken care of. You will remain here at the flat and come later. A cab will send for you when it is time to come. You should have clothes lying on your bed. Clearly, you missed them since you haven't stated anything about them." Sherlock explained.

John briefly looked around and noticed the lack of beast in the flat. Or Raanee as it was named. That's when the detective's clothing comment clicked in his mind.

"What's wrong with my own clothes? I own perfectly decent clothing for an interview, Sherlock." John argued.

"Oatmeal-coloured jumpers won't do, John. You need attire that will enhance your aura of strength. The perfect atmosphere a future security guard needs. You should have a pair of trousers, pants, and socks, along with a dress shirt at your bedside. With your complexion, it will be well-suiting." Sherlock added.

The doctor knew there was no arguing. The clothes were already bought anyway. There was no use in fighting the subject.

"Did you make sure to..you know?" John looked down at his trousers. The left pant leg was cut, folded, and stitched neatly so as to not interfere with his leg.

The detective quickly swept up and down John's body as he looked at his leg and let out a light amused chuckle.

"Of course, John. I would never forget such a simple detail. All of your clothes have been tailored to suit you and your needs. You will find it to suit you perfectly." Sherlock smiled as he got up from his chair. He walked over to his cluttered desk and collected his laptop and physical case files. When he sat back down in his seat with a thump, he opened up his laptop to go over the facts.

John sighed in defeat and decided to focus on the task at hand, the case "What do we have?"

"Benjamin Taylor, 43, strong build, average height, lighter hair, darker eyes, who was supposed to work the night shift two days before the disappearances of, Flec, a four year old African Lion and Suki, a three year old tigress. It is said that he phoned in sick and was never heard from since. We move on to Austin Koucher, 48, strong build, taller in height, darker complexion within his hair and eyes, who was a zookeeper and disappeared around 8:28pm. He was last seen on the cameras turning the corner in the direction of the staff room in a bit of a hurry it seemed. Austin had been acting more skittish and had apparentally been trying to contact his supervisor in earlier weeks but to no prevail. They had just gotten done with the final look around of the enclosures to ensure the animals were fed and their homes were clean. Not wanting to cause panic in the public, they needed immediate replacements." Sherlock explained with a grin. John could see the sparkle that would shine in the detective's eyes every time the case was getting good.

"Us." John deduced.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"Indeed, John," Sherlock smiled proudly at John. Over the years the doctor had gotten more swift at keeping up and keeping the detective's mind at bay.

"Was the zoo closed at the time of the disappearances?" The doctor questioned. Sherlock quickly looked up the zoo's opening and closing hours. It was.

"Yes, the zoo was closed." Sherlock answered. He was curious as to where the doctor was going with his deduction.

"Why would there be a zookeeper at the place after hours? Wouldn't they have all gone home? Or were they needed for something? Like cleaning the enclosures or tending to one of the animals."

Dull. How could he have missed such an obvious detail? Sherlock thought. He was fortunate for the doctor's eyes in this.

"Brilliant John! Why indeed? Everything had already been taken care of for that night, so there had been no reason for him to still be there.. unless," a fire suddenly ignited within the fire's eyes as he quickly shot up and placed his laptop down. He opened the physical case file and opened it up. The fire in Sherlock's eyes burned brightly with each swipe his eyes took to read through the file.

"Yes, John! You're brilliant." Sherlock beamed as he dashed over to his coat to retrieve his phone.

The detective then looked at the time, 11 minutes past noon. Time to get ready.

"It's 11 minutes passed, John. I need to get ready," Sherlock quickly got up and started to make his way toward the direction of his room.

"Wait, what? Unless what?" John shouted after the man "And what about me? What time is my interview?" John asked.

"Your interview is at 3 o'clock. I need to phone Lestrade!" Sherlock hurriedly took his phone out and dialled the inspector.

"Aren't you going to-" the doctor sighed. He wasn't going to be filled in anytime soon. Looks like he'll have to take matters into his own hands for now.

"Lestrade? Yes, we have something. Pull up everything you know on Zachary Khoen." Sherlock stated cryptically as he rushed off to his room to change.

Zachary Khoen? Who the devil was that? John wondered. He walked over and glanced at the open case file that lay sprawled out on the detective's desk. The man was younger, 28, he wasn't extremely tall, but he certainly wasn't short either. Tanned skin. Blonde, medium-length hair, darker blue eyes. He was the one who covered Benjamin's shift the night of the animals disappearing. If that was the case, how did-

"He not notice an animal as large as the lion disappear into the night? That is indeed the question, John."

The doctor turned around to face the source of the baritone. The man stood finishing buttoning his shirt. He looked as sharp as usual. He wore a crisp, maroon button-down shirt that complemented his skin and a dark pair of trousers to contrast. He looked good, as good as he usually did. John had to admit, Sherlock Holmes was an attractive man. He could have anyone he wanted if he really wanted to, but that had never been Sherlock. The work came first. Always. Speaking of the work, hearing Sherlock's comment, made John snap out of staring and made a confused face at the man.

"I could see you looking at the file I had left open. Your head perked up after intense focus as though you had come to a conclusion. The conclusion could have only been about Zachary Khoen due to the file in front of you, and-" Sherlock started.

"I get it, Sherlock," John interrupted. The detective pouted at the interruption. "What did Lestrade say?"

"The usual. We will be undercover analysing the suspect and they'll be on stand-by. So, for now, we'll be using these." The detective pulled out fake ID badges. Sherlock's reading Sheridan Lochwood and his as Matthew Wauldron.

"Sheridan Lochwood? You couldn't have been a little more creative?" John questioned amusingly.

"Nonsense John. I wasn't the one to make these ID's. Graham was. So, if you are going to judge artistic liberties, blame Geoffrey." Sherlock glared.

John rolled his eyes and took his new ID. He looked at the clock, 12:35.

"You should get going, Sheridan." John grinned as Sherlock crinkled his nose at the name.

The detective began walking towards the door, before he headed out the door he faced the doctor and said with a grin "3 o'clock, Mr Wauldron, be there," and with that, the detective was off.

"That's Dr. Wauldron to you, Sherry!" The doctor joked.

"Ha!" The detective's laugh erupted from the stairwell.

The doctor turned away from the door and decided to take a look at the clothes the detective had left for him.

The game was officially afoot.

Chapter Text

John ventured toward his bedroom and saw a neat pair of clothes on his bedside. A green button-down? He never would have selected that for himself. He wasn't much of a fashion expert but he knew what he liked and what fit. It was a struggle buying trousers, especially, due to his leg. It wasn't easy adjusting to life without it. Hell, not even his left arm is fully his. A lot of the bones in his arm and shoulder had been replaced with titanium plates, metal rods, and just medal. He was able to keep the arm, but it took a long while to adjust to his body after the war. He wondered how different his life would have been had he and his men not been ambushed that day.

No Mary. No Rosie. No Sherlock. Nothing. Just himself alone.. with all of him intact. He began to notice his phantom aches.

John could feel himself begin to dissociate as his mind wandered back out to the battlefield.

Boom!

John flew from where he was stationed and landed on his back. His ears rang for god knows how long. He could barely move, he tried crawling away from the area, but it was no use. "Help me! Someone help me!!" No one answered. He began to whine with pain, his vision was blurring, he was going to pass out, "Please, God.. let me live.."

He felt a piercing heat spread throughout the left side of his body when he heard a voice "Watson? Watson!" His Major called. He shouted toward his Private, "Someone call for a bloody stretcher we're losing him!" The Major shouted. The panic was clear in his Private's eyes. He could feel himself beginning to slip away. He suddenly felt his weight elevate. The stretcher. He was being taken to safety.

"Stay with us, Captain. We've got you."

Then the doctor was slowly drifting in and out of consciousness. He could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into the dark waters of his mind. The current was something he couldn't control, so he did not fight. Simply surrendered. The last thing he could hear was the panicking of his men.

"We've have to take the leg. The infection will spread and he'll bleed out if we don't."

"And what about his arm, major?"

"He'll need a Limb Salvage Surgery.. his arm is in ribbons. The outside will heal, but we'll need to install an internal prosthesis and install metal plating where his shoulder is."

"But, sir, we don't have the proper medicines. The anaesthetics were in the lorry!"

"We do the leg now and focus on the arm later! Now move!"

What men remained nearby gathered the scalpel, Caitlin's Knife, and Gigli's bone saw. The strongest of them were there to hold John down to keep him quiet. His hip was being supported by his bag.

John drifted back to consciousness enough to look at the men as he tried processing what they were saying.. They were gonna take his leg.. he was awake. He was awake!

John's instincts kicked in as he tried getting up to get away, but his men held him down. One covering his mouth with a firm grip. His panicked eyes darted all over.

"Captain, you need to stay still!" "Watson, stop!" The Major began to hold the captain in place. He looks at the scared Private, "Do it, Private," the look in the Private's eyes said he knew he needed to do it, but he knew this was something he'd never be able to come back from. This would change him forever.

"Forgive me, Captain, forgive me, please!" his young private looked at him with tear-filled eyes as he took out the Caitlin Knife and began cutting through the doctor's muscles.

"Mmmmm!!!!!" The captain's screams were muffled by the major's firm hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I'm so sorry," the youthful soldier cried as he began to bring out the Gigli Saw. He had to cut the leg off at the femur bone. They had to be very precise. One wrong move, they could cut the femoral artery wrong and kill him. On top of that, they could be found and they along with their captain could be killed. He brought the Gigli saw to what remained of the leg and began cutting.

The Captain's muffled cries and screams caused the doctor's vocals to be stretched raw. The trauma both physical and psychological caused the doctor's blood pressure to drop. The harder the Private sawed, the tighter the men held him. Until finally, the doctor passed out. They could complete the procedure without causing him more trauma than they already had.

The soldier radioed base camp in a panic, "We have a Sierra Whiskey India Alpha! We need a Lima Romeo Delta 130 and backup immediately! We've been ambushed!"

The soldiers carefully twisted and rotated the leg until finally, it was off. They needed to keep both the arm and leg wound secure until the rover came for them.

When it did, the Captain and the other injured soldiers were loaded up and began being transported to safety.

John briefly remembers waking up to hear "You're safe, sir, we got you," before passing back out again.

When the doctor comes back to the present date, he is sitting on the floor, drenched in sweat, shaking, and clutching the shirt Sherlock had given him. He takes deep breaths and runs a hand over his face. He needs to shower. He slowly gets up from the floor. His body still shaking at the remembrance of the trauma. A nice warm shower will help soothe his anxiety and phantom pains. He made his way toward his restroom, began taking off his leg, sat down in his shower chair, and started to shower.

Chapter Text

When John got done showering. He realised he hadn't checked the time. Shit. He hadn't realised how much time truly passed until he heard the downstairs door shut and muffled voices.

Sherlock must be home from his interview.

John steps out of the shower and begins to dry off. Looking at himself in the mirror. His left body was hard for him to look at some days. Some days were better than others. The doctor knew he didn't want to risk another flashback.

So, he quickly began dressing himself in the attire Sherlock had bought for him. A deep emerald dress shirt & cream collared trousers. He looked to his right to see brown accents to his clothing, deep brown dress shoes, socks, and a belt. One particular piece of clothing caught his eye which made him huff. A pair of red pants were neatly folded beside his socks. New pants, Sherlock, seriously? Then he spotted his accessories a pair of wide-framed, browline glasses, and a new watch. After he gets dressed, he takes in his outfit. Everything matches and fits perfectly. He doesn't even wanna know how Sherlock got his measurements. John looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. He's been forgetting to shave, so he's been left with a 5 o'clock shadow. He honestly does not feel up to shaving his stubble off, so for now John takes a shaver and cleans up his facial hair.

He exits his restroom to meet Sherlock out in the sitting room. When he enters the room, he spots the detective removing his coat and laying it over a chair. The detective sighed, he could tell age was getting to him. He was feeling more tired than he used to. It made each case feel more worth it though. He turned and saw the doctor looking at him. John had put on the outfit he had gotten for him and God did it suit him well. The earth tones complemented his skin, hair, and eyes exceptionally well. John had always looked good to Sherlock, even when he was wearing those ridiculous jumpers. He secretly loved them though. They suited John.

He got tired of how everyone underestimated John. People were frightened and disgusted by his own presence when the real man they should be intimidated by should be John. He may be a kind man, but he was not always kind and friendly with his words. He has lived quite the life. He admired John's strength and his outfit very much showcased that.

John put on more weight than he had when he was in the war. He adored it. He thought it to be endearing. He found that when people are comfortable in the presence of someone they care for weight gain is normal. So, he felt trusted. Although, he still had quite the muscle definition for his age. His doctor was quite attractive he will admit. He cleans up rather nicely.

"Ah, John. You're just in time. Your cab will be here soon." Sherlock stated.

John met Sherlock with a blank look. He still had no idea what time it was. He quickly glanced at his watch -- 2:10. Fuckin' hell. He must have been out a while.

"You had a flashback." Sherlock deduced.

John's posture became guarded. He looked at the floor and back at the detective, "Yeah, I -- Yes, Sherlock. I had an attack." John responded as his left land fidgeted.

Sherlock gave him a concerned look. "Mm. Well, how about some tea then?"

"Yeah, that would be lovely, thanks."

"Kettle's in the kitchen." Sherlock said turning to go toward his chair.

John huffed but then he caught the glimmer in Sherlock's eye and that cat-like grin, he knew he was simply takin' the piss. The doctor rolled his eyes fondly. The detective knew John could see that he was messing with him. He knows making tea is therapeutic to John. So, usually, he let him make it.

A short while later, John finished the tea. He came into the sitting room and handed Sherlock his tea.

"So, I'll be heading out soon. Anything I should be on the lookout for once I get there?" John asked taking a sip of his tea.

"Zachery Khoen. You likely will be given a tour by him. Since he is on shift today. They kept the monitor of everyone who was clocked in today open. Lazy. No wonder it's easy to steal and kidnap from there. No one takes care of or monitors anything properly. Anyway, Zachary Khoen. He is our prime suspect at the moment. If you see him, make yourself familiar with him. Any new information you gather from him will prove to be useful." Sherlock answered.

"Right. Well, I think I should be off out then. Getting there early would look good on my end, yeah?"

"Mm. You're right, John. I'll have the cabbie send for you early." Sherlock then pulled out his phone and messaged the cabbie.

"I should expect a message in about a minute or so. So, for now, it's best that you gather your coat." Sherlock suggested.

"Fine. Let me know when he's here then, yeah?" John asked as he made his way downstairs to grab his jacket.

The detective shouts from the upstairs, "John! It's a good thing you decided to go out early! The cabbie is right around the corner!"

"Alright! I'm off out then! I'll pop down and bring home some takeout later, yeah?" He shouted back.

"You know what I like!" Sherlock responded.

"I'm off then! Be home soon!" John said, stepping out the door. He turned and looked toward the window where Sherlock stood watching. John gave him a smile and waved goodbye as the cabbie pulled up. John took a deep breath and made his way into the cab.

Into battle.

Chapter Text

When John arrived to the zoo, he took a look around. It looked normal. Unsuspecting. Children were playing, having fun. He saw parents taking pictures of them with the goofy lion mascot near the front enterance.

He needed to find the staff building..

He looks to see some members of staff heading toward a larger building on the east side of the zoo that has large mural of a few exotic creatures on the outside. A lion, elephant, zebra, and giraffe all together in the Savannah. A big rainbow casted over the top of the animals.

That's when a particular man caught his eye. A man matching the same description as their culprit. John knew that this was his chance. He began to jog over to the man, "Hey! Uh, excuse me! Mate, could you -- could you stop, please?" John shouted. The man turned to face the doctor.

"Who are you?" The man cocked a brow at John.

John blinked at the man, "Oh, right. Right. Uh, Matthew. Matthew Wauldron but you can call me Matt. I'm here for the, uh, job. Security." He smiled extending his hand.

The man's face turned to a greeting smile, "Mr. Wauldron, yes! Hello, I'm Zachary Khoen, I'm one of the security guards here. It's lovely seeing another person join our crew. Please, lets go inside, yeah?" He extended his arm out to guide John to the entrance.

When they got inside, John looked around for anything that could be out of the ordinary. Nothing. It looked like your every day workplace. Staff loos. Staff locker rooms for uniforms and personal items. The place appeared to be clean. The lighting was just right. People smiled and greeted each other as they passed by. It seemed too perfect..

"Well, here we are, manager's office. She'll talk to you then I'll show you around, yeah?" The man asked.

John snapped out of his thoughts to respond.

"Right, yeah, uh, cheers, mate. I'll just be off then. I'll be out in a tick." John smiled and gave the man a friendly wave.

"Psst. Matt!" Zachary called.

John stopped and turned to him, "What?"

Zachary gave him two thumbs up "Break a leg!"

John gave a lop-sided smile and laughed. "Been there, done that. Except, then they decided to keep it."

Zachary gave John a blank stare and John headed into the office.

Chapter Text

He stepped through the door and saw a woman sitting hunched over her desk as she went over the incoming bundles of paperwork. Hearing the door click and John shuffle toward the closest chair, the woman looked up from her paperwork. Her grey eyes looked up at John.

"Oh, you must be our new hiree for security! Matthew Wauldron was it?" She eyed him, giving the doctor a smile.

"Yes, that's, erm, that's me. It's lovely to meet you Ms?"

"Oh, right, yes. I'm Ms. Amberlin, pleasure." She extended her hand in a friendly greeting.

John shook her hand in return.

"So, Mr. Wauldron, I would ask you if you have prior experience in the field of defencive training, but it appears here you have prior experience in the field. RAMC Solider. Impressive. What I will ask you though Mr. Wauldron is why work here? Wouldn't you want to keep out of the jobs that remind you of that time? Don't you believe you're a bit overqualified?" She finished, giving John an expectant look.

Ah. Mycroft was involved then. Sherlock must have had him make an altered, official copy of his military records. Clever.

He thought back to his current, real, job.

John met her questioning gaze with a light laugh. She gave him a heightened look of confusion.

"I must say, Mr Wauldron or should I say Dr Wauldron? I do not believe it makes a good impression if you laugh at your potential boss asking you questions." She cocked a brow at him.

"Oh, no! No, sorry.. it's just, at my jo- prior job, I was told, rather bluntly in fact, that I was a bit overqualified too. In war, I was no better than anyone else, really. So, it's a funny thing, that. Here, I'm overqualified for stuff that the average bloke wouldn't be able to achieve. Now, I really sound arrogant, yeah? It's just nice feeling useful to some degree. You can call me doctor." John gave her a light, honest, apologetic smile.

She could see the genuineness in what the doctor was saying and her frosty feelings toward his prior reaction melted. "Well, Doctor, you can call me Donna. I believe you'll fit in just fine here. I'll have Zach show you around. Just don't go around laughing at every one of his questions, hm? He can be a bit touchy." She gave him a playful smile.

"Right, I'll be sure to remember that." John began to stand up and head towards the door. He turned the knob when Ms. Amberlin's voice called out to him.

"Matt?"

He turned to her, "Yeah?"

"It's good to have you home, Solider." She gave him a smile.

"Mm. Ta. I'm grateful to be home." John added.

He did mean that. As much as he appreciated his time in war, he wouldn't change a thing about his life. He was honestly lucky and forever grateful to be home. London never used to feel like home, but with some added characters, he could never look at it as anything else. It was home. It was a pleasure to be home.

He turned the knob and set off to find Zachary

Chapter Text

He saw no sign of him outside of the manager's office. So, he must be outside on duty.

John left the staff building and quickly saw Zachary standing near an outdoor vending machine. The day was slower. He must approaching his lunch break.

John makes his way over to the vending machines and upon his arrival, Zachary spots him. He gives John an easy-going smile, "Crisps?" he says, handing him the small bag.

"No thanks, mate. I think my appetite is blown from the nerves any way." John laughed.

"Uh oh, Donna eating you alive? I've told her to not scare away all of the employees. Lord knows she basically did that with our last ones.."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she can be very feisty and intimidating. She's been more skittish and on edge these laat few days. Don't tell anyone this, but the mates that went missing,"

"Yeah?"

"They were planning to quit, already had their notices and everything ready apparentally. Donna was not happy about it. Without her staff this place cannot stay open, and no one has been coming in. So, she's been pretty desperate to keep her staff. She's a nice lady, but she's just been through stuff, you know? Hasn't been easy since her husband died." Zachary said sympathetically.

Yeah, John knows how that feels. It wasn't easy after Mary. Everything in his life became a lot harder. Now that he has people in his life again, the hardships life threw him didn't seem so scary.

"Mm. I can attest to that. Been widowed a few years now. It's definitely not easy. So, she has my sympathies."

"Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to dig up old bones or anything. Shit, bad analogy. Sorry." He apologised.

John laughed "No, you're alright. It's been awhile. I've had people in my life help me through as best as they can."

"Mm. New partner?"

"Ha! No, old partner, really. He's been great."

"Oh, well, good for you both then!" Zach gave John a pat on his back.

That's when it dawned on John. "Oh, you meant- uh, no, erm, he's just my partner. We work together. We aren't together-together-"

"Mate, take a breath, it's fine. I don't judge. Whatever you like, is fine by me. I've seen some blokes with an ass that'd I turn gay for." He joked.

"I don't think that's how-" he sighs "oh, weren't we going to go on a tour?"

"Bollocks! Thanks for reminding me. Sorry about that. Yeah, lets pop off then. We can stop back here later. I am a hungry sod, what can I say? I frequent here a lot off break." He chuckled.

The men began making their way away from the vending machines and venture towards the the shaded areas where the animals were kept, in silence.

"Haven't been to a zoo in ages." John said smiling. He figured with the silence right now, he should attempt small talk to see about any new information.

"Oh, yeah? It's nice. The animals are sweethearts, the zookeeper uniforms are pretty hot, anyone can rock them. Plus, you get to see what animals are the most popular for our guests." Zach's eye sparkled talking about the place.

"Really? What animals are the most popular?"

"Well, the usual honestly. People adore the wild cats. It was a shame what happened to Suki and Flec. They were beautiful animals. Their pelts were stunning to show-off to guests."

John's teeth grinded. To anyone else, it would've sounded as though he was strictly talking about the zoo itself, but due to him being their main suspect, John wasn't too certain. He kept his composture.

"I bet. I saw a new animal in the place of the Tigress earlier. Beautiful cat. Black panther, right? That's really the only black cat I know of. Well, besides house pets."

"Oh! Yes, that would be Raanee. She's our queen around here. Only came in the other day and people have flocking toward her like crazy. She's gorgeous. Let me take you over to her." He offered. They begin to make their way over to the enclosure where Raanee slept soundly on her tree in the sun. Her food had been polished off. She had water waiting down below for her.

"Has she been resting all day?"

"Oh yeah, that's usual of panthers. They are the batmen of the animal kingdom. They are the night. They are lively then but lounge in the day. What a peaceful life cats have, eh?"

"Believe me, I live with someone who might as well be a cat as a second career." John rolled his eyes. Sherlock Holmes was as cat-like as they come. Piercing eyes, arched features, impatient, very independent, sceptical of humans, usually anti-social, relies on other people to be fed, very adamant about self-grooming, dashes all over God's creation then lounges for the remaining time until the cycle repeats.

"Your partner I take it?"

"Yes, believe me, he would debate you on making the comparison. He would say something along the lines of 'Don't be obtuse, Jo- Matthew, while humans and cats share homologous DNA, I do not relate to those creatures.' He is very smart, but he is quite oblivious to some things." John smiled fondly. He's spent enough time with the man by now to know what he'd say.

Zachary eyes him knowingly and smiles, "Clearly."

John gave him a confused expression. What's he on about?

"Where to next?" John asked.

"Hm. Well, I should show you your post. The other animal exhibits are easy to find through the map. You'll be stationed near Khan's enclosure, that's Suki's mate. He's a good cat. Just as gorgeous as Suki was. You and the other guard will rotate between Khan and Raanee's enclosure. Your mid-day shift will be with Khan and your nightly shift will be with Raanee. She's still adjusting and getting settled in. So, if you see any 'keeper's there after dark, don't worry about that. They're still getting things set-up."

"Right. Wait, you keep saying 'was' did something happen to Suki? Did she pass away?"

"Ah, I take it you didn't hear then. She and Flec went missing a couple of nights ago. Figured the bastards who took them were keen on givin' them back. You ask me it's a little fishy that as soon as the two workers vanish, the cats do the same."

"God, that's awful. Yeah, that is odd. Why take the cats? Who could fit something massive like them into a vehicle?"

"Get the proper trailer and it'll do the trick. The two blokes grumbled about money troubles, hence lookin' for new work. With the help of those cat's pelts, meat, and bones, they would go for fortunes on those sketchy markets."

"Well, yeah, but two men up against two beasts like that? That's like takin' the late Queen's dogs to a bear fight expecting them to win. A bit of a stretch, that."

"Aye. Yeah, I guess, but I still think it to be odd."

"Well, unless they were apart of a bigger group somehow, I don't see how those two could have done it alone." John explained. This guy had to really be sure of himself if he's talking this openly about his knowledge of this sort of thing. Well, younger folk were more open in general. Even if the things they were open about were odd to say the least.

Zachary gave John a glance over, and shifted a bit, "What did you say you did for a job before this?"

John noticing the guards suspicious gaze, he said "Oh, sorry, patterns are kinda my thing. Bit rusty though honestly. Old habits. I was in the Royal Army Medical Corps for a while. Until, well, I had to go home and some parts of me never left" he pats his left thigh and gestures down to his leg.

"Shit, sorry, mate, didn't mean to be nosy. Thought you were a cop or somethin'. We just don't like trouble bein' stirred up here. We're a family here and with kids around I don't want the zoo bein' associated with coppers." Zachary explained.

"It's fine. It's good. I'm good. It took a while, but I'm fine. Any way, I suppose I should be shown where the guards actually manage security or do I not have to worry about that?"

"You likely won't but hey, it's always good to be certain. Hell only knows how many more people will leave here. So, I guess it's good to know just in-case." Zachary turned and began walking toward the direction of the office.

"True. Is the office close to my post? It's just my leg and all. Like I told my partner, pain in the arse this thing is." He smacks his leg.

"Oh, yeah, you've got nothin' to worry about. Whatever you need just pop over to my post and I'll help you where I can. Shall we?" The man gestured toward the entry way to the office with a smile.

Chapter Text

"Yeah, lets." John finished.

Zachary opened the door and stepped into the office. John followed shortly behind him.

"It's a bit tight in here" John said.

"It is, but hey, at least you likely won't be working in here, yeah? Anyways, here is the computer system. Basic monitors, but the 2nd monitor will show you cameras that reach from the front of the zoo to the back where the back exit door and rubbish bins are."

"Right, yeah. I prefer the fresh air anyway. So, outside post is good. Feel bad for the sod who has to sit here all day."

"Yeah, honestly, we all take turns. Donna's husband used to be head of security. So, she is sensitive of people being in here all the time. So, she's mainly the one in here checking footage. She has a lot on her plate, and we all would like to help, but she's still grieving after all this time. So, you know. I'm waffling on, sorry." Zachary chuckled.

"It's alright, mate. I get it, truly. You said she's the one who monitors the footage most of fhe time?"

"Aye. For the most part, yeah."

"Mm. Well, is anything else you need to show me?"

"That's really about all, mate. Unless you want to see your uniform."

"It's fine, mate. I'll have a look when tomorrow comes, yeah?"

"Fine by me, mate. Lets get you checked out then. I'll let Donna know you're leaving."

"Ta. I'm off out then."

"You want me to show you out then?"

"It's alright, mate. I can see myself out."

"Uh, I can haul you a cab! You know, your leg.."

John gets a light grin as he looks down at his leg and back at Zachary.

"No, I think I'll walk tonite. It's beautiful out." John smiled.

With that, John set off back to Baker Street. The doctor made his way through the streets of London, his prosthetic puffed and clicked as he walked along. The once bustling city now seemed to be in a state of winding down. The sounds of traffic and chatter had faded away, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the buzzing of last minute traffic. The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon, casting a warm golden light across the sky, which was now ablaze with a riot of purples, pinks, and warm hues. The evening air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass.

Despite the quietness, John felt a sense of peace and contentment as he strolled along. It was a rare moment of solitude in the hectic life he shared with Sherlock.

As John turns the corner, the familiar sight of their local shop comes into view. The smell of sizzling hot food entices him closer, and he can almost taste the spices and flavors that await him inside. With a sense of anticipation, he steps inside, greeted by the bright lights and lively chatter of the customers.

As he makes his way up the line, his mind drifts back to the case he and Sherlock had been working on. It's been a long day; now all he wants is to return home and enjoy a peaceful evening with his favourite detective by his side.

After getting he and Sherlock's meals, he turned the corner making his way to Baker Street. The setting sun cast a warm glow on the familiar street, the red brick buildings and charming shops taking on a fiery aura. Even the usually dimly lit windows of 221B Baker Street seemed to sparkle in the fading light.

With the bag of Chinese in hand, John makes his way up the steps and through the door.

"Sherlock, I'm home!" John called.

"Upstairs, John!" Sherlock answered.

"Be up in a moment! Just need to take my coat and boots off!" John said.

John flicked off his boots and hanged his coat. He started up the stairs of the flat when the familiar scents of warm tea, chemicals, and books greeted him, further solidifying the feeling of home.

He couldn't hide the smile that spread across his face as he made his way into the sitting room, where Sherlock sat in his chair, hunched over his laptop, engrossed in his work. His curly hair falling over his intense eyes.

"Evening, Sherlock." John greeted.

Sherlock turned to look at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "John," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

Food?" John held the bag of food up to Sherlock.

"You can leave it on the table next to your chair. I'll be done in a moment." Sherlock stated.

"What are you doing?"

"Reviewing security footage of the zoo." His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him.

"Mm. Well, how about you take a pause to eat, yeah? It's been a long day. I gotta get this damned leg off." John said.

Sherlock sighed, but reluctantly complied. "Fine, I'll take my container then." He extended his arm out to take his takeout box from John.

John leaned forward and handed Sherlock his food. He removed his leg and leaned back in his seat. The container felt warm in his hands as he opened it and began to eat. In that moment, as the orange and pink rays of the ending day filtered through the windows, John and Sherlock ate in a comfortable silence.