There was more silence. Sherlock had made a quick study of memory. Older memories, those formed in youth, are more tenacious. That may be John's path back. But he didn't know the details of John's life. He didn't know stories... only generalities he had been able to deduce. Useless.
"You don't like your middle name. Hamish."
"I don't?"
The little things made all the difference in the world now. Sherlock felt buoyant simply because John had interpreted this as a statement of fact about his past, not a present-day command to not like part of his own name.
"You wouldn't tell me what it was."
"What is your name?"
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I don't like my name either. I go by Sherlock."
"Should I call you that? Sherlock?"
"Yes... John."
When they arrived at the station, Sherlock purchased tickets to London. To have a private compartment would require leaving the next morning. Sherlock weighed the options. Being back home was the best thing for John, but so many things remained potential triggers. The enclosed space of a vehicle hadn't been a problem, but being around other people may yet be. He opted for a private car tomorrow morning. Which meant a ride to yet another hotel tonight.
Sherlock chose one as close to the station as possible. Odd how all hotel interiors are essentially the same. Again, John anxiously eyed him before heading to the bed closest to the door.
"You are a doctor," Sherlock said quietly, as John disrobed. "And a soldier."
"I know I'm a soldier," said John. He watched as Sherlock looked over his body from a distance. He seemed to relax.
Sherlock managed a weak smile. Yes. That he would remember. "You were a soldier. A captain. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. You were injured in the line of duty and are retired."
"What are you?"
"I'm a detective."
John frowned. "I thought..." His voice trailed off.
"Go on. It's fine. Nothing you ask will ever offend me."
"You rescued me. I thought for a moment that you knew me. But it's your job. Saving people."
"Oh, I most definitely knew you. Know you. The people who took you... we were both working to stop them. It's what we do. It's what you do, anyway. You are the one who saves people, John. I mostly solve puzzles. You've saved lots of people. You were trying to save me when they took you. There is much to tell, but right now I need to get you home. It's our home. Baker Street, in London."
FILL 9b/? "138" (John in slave auction)--TW for Non Con
"You don't like your middle name. Hamish."
"I don't?"
The little things made all the difference in the world now. Sherlock felt buoyant simply because John had interpreted this as a statement of fact about his past, not a present-day command to not like part of his own name.
"You wouldn't tell me what it was."
"What is your name?"
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I don't like my name either. I go by Sherlock."
"Should I call you that? Sherlock?"
"Yes... John."
When they arrived at the station, Sherlock purchased tickets to London. To have a private compartment would require leaving the next morning. Sherlock weighed the options. Being back home was the best thing for John, but so many things remained potential triggers. The enclosed space of a vehicle hadn't been a problem, but being around other people may yet be. He opted for a private car tomorrow morning. Which meant a ride to yet another hotel tonight.
Sherlock chose one as close to the station as possible. Odd how all hotel interiors are essentially the same. Again, John anxiously eyed him before heading to the bed closest to the door.
"You are a doctor," Sherlock said quietly, as John disrobed. "And a soldier."
"I know I'm a soldier," said John. He watched as Sherlock looked over his body from a distance. He seemed to relax.
Sherlock managed a weak smile. Yes. That he would remember. "You were a soldier. A captain. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. You were injured in the line of duty and are retired."
"What are you?"
"I'm a detective."
John frowned. "I thought..." His voice trailed off.
"Go on. It's fine. Nothing you ask will ever offend me."
"You rescued me. I thought for a moment that you knew me. But it's your job. Saving people."
"Oh, I most definitely knew you. Know you. The people who took you... we were both working to stop them. It's what we do. It's what you do, anyway. You are the one who saves people, John. I mostly solve puzzles. You've saved lots of people. You were trying to save me when they took you. There is much to tell, but right now I need to get you home. It's our home. Baker Street, in London."