John/Sherlock Friendship - Not Slash

"John, take a look at him. What do you see?"

"Again? Sherlock I'm not goi-"

"John, please."

While sighing and being exasperated, John took a step forward before kneeling down to examine the body. He checked the hands, and for bruising, he even bent over the dead man and smelt his breath. He looked at the man's clothing, the holes in the pant leg, the smoothie on the floor. John circled the body and checked the other side too.

"Cause of death: Asphyxiation. Was drinking and it looks like he got in a fight by the state of his knuckles." John stood and went over to Lestrade and Sherlock, "It wasn't a murder. He drank too much."

"The small details, John. What do you know about him?"

"What's that got to-"

"John. Details."

The ex-soldier shifted, "He's, uh… alcoholic. 50s, has a scruff so he doesn't have anywhere high-priority to go, like a job. He's got a milkshake, so, back from someplace… I guess. Ring on finger, so he's married. Maybe has kids… maybe went out to see said kids… maybe said kids are adults? I don't know."

"Good, Doctor, good." Sherlock praised using his hands in a sweeping motion, "Keep going."

John shifted uncertainly and knelt down again, "There's mud on his pants, so he was out by someplace wet. Thames maybe. Why he would meet his kid there, I have no idea." John grabbed his left hand, "The fight, his knuckles, possibly barfight, being a drunk and all. He's uh… got hair on his pants, animal, so he's got a cat. A grey one. Doesn't brush his own hair, and that coupling with the lack of shaving… he lives alone?" John scratched his ear before standing, "I… That's it, I-" He raised his hands, "Done."

"Done?"

"Yes."

…

"Alright, Sherlock, what did I miss? Get wrong? No need to hide it."

"You were right about the Asphyxiation, but the cause was wrong. He OD'd, combination of the drinking and drugs."

"Drugs?"

"Yes, doctor. The smoothies, look at it. The color's off, very off. This man was murdered. Left a bar, got a message from someone close, possibly child because he went out to the Thames to see him. The child, an adult by now, bought him the smoothie, drugged it. His system took to long to react to the drug and that's when he collapsed here, in the middle of the street. The toxicology reports will no doubt confirm my analysis, and that hair's from a terrier, not a cat. He doesn't live alone, he's makes a living pretending to be Santa Claus, the ID in his wallet confirms he's a mall employee."

"Right then." John shifted, "I was wrong about it all, what is the point of having me do this every time?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, John, don't you see? I'm training you." Sherlock gave a wide grin, "Training you to be a scientist of deduction. Like me." Sherlock was obviously proud of himself with that smug grin, "You've already shown quite a bit of progress from the past cases we've worked together, that's when I got the idea. We've been doing this since last week, and I must say, I'm very impressed with your progress. You never glean anything useful… but it is a process, and I'm know you'll get better with practice! Lots and lots of practice."

John deadpanned, "You're joking."

"Not at all, John. I'm quite serious."

Donovan had had enough of this. It was bad enough having Sherlock Holmes trail behind them on every bloody case, but to learn that he was using them to teach John become a cruel anti-social psychopath was too much.

"So the Freak is teaching you how to be a freak yourself? Well that's lovely isn't it?" She growled at the John, ignoring Lestrade's 'Donovan!' shout behind her, "I told you to get a hobby! Fishing, or stamp collecting. Instead you chose to become like him." She pushed her finger into his chest, ignoring her not so happy boss in the background, "You're his loyal little dog, aren't you? Don't got no spine or will of your own. You obey everything he says. It's the Freaks now, isn't it? The Freaks!" She backed off, "You're just going to get yourself killed, Doctor Watson! He doesn't care about you, he doesn't care about anyone. You should leave, before it's too late."

With that she left, heading towards her police car. After all it was a case solved; no reason to be hanging around any longer than necessary. Sherlock and his dog were on the case after all.

Lestrade stood, face downcast. He was never really sure how to handle her. "Sorry about that, Doctor."

"No, it's alright." John seemed a little disheveled, but gave a small and yet forced grin. Lestrade appreciated the effort, however pointless it may be.

Sherlock however, paid no heed, and ignored Donovan's outburst. He'd been completely unphased, probably still stuck on teaching John Watson a thing or two. What a world this was turning out to be, when crime scenes were becoming class rooms for grown men?

"Wait a minute, you've been taking all these extra cases for John?" Lestrade nodded in understanding, "Well then, I got the perfect one in mind, I do like getting these cases over quickly!" He beamed, "Would you like it, Sherlock? I'm sure it's just perfect for John."

"What?" Both men asked in unison, one of sheer horror, the other of pure delight, "What is it?" Sherlock pressed, suddenly crowding in on the Detective, "What's the case?"

Lestrade gulped, suddenly nervous, "A nurse downtown was murdered, but all the suspects had alibis." He gave a slight groan of discomfort as his spine began to bend in an uncomfortable manor, "She was in the morgue at the time, alone, and there's only one way in and out, but the cameras posted by the entrance didn't catch anything. I'm sure it's no challenge for you, Sherlock; but it might be perfect for teaching John a thing or two."

It obviously was just what Sherlock had been hoping for, "Oh!" He clapped his hands excitingly, releasing Lestrade from the death grip, "Brilliant, Inspector!" He lauded before he suddenly turned to John, "It's absolutely perfect! What a case, John! What a case!"

"Wait, wait, wait." Both men paused, "Don't I get a say in this? What if I don't want to learn how to do… what you do? Did you ever think of that possibility?" John shrugged, "Maybe I'd like to spend this time in a warm bed, sleeping. Or maybe I'd like to get something to eat, an archaic practice which I've forgone for three days? Did you ever think of that?"

"Oh." Sherlock looked like a hurt puppy, "Of course, John."

He paused, "You won't help, I understand completely." He turned dramatically towards the street; his long coat fluttering in the wind, "It's perfectly reasonable! The challenge is just too great for your tiny brain!" And another dramatic pause, "It might even be… dangerous!" Sherlock held back the grin as he mentioned the 'forbidden word', "And we wouldn't want you exposed to any… danger." There it was again, John would be guaranteed to come along now if he could convince the doctor that he'd nothing better to do.

And so another dramatic pause was cued.

"Would we?" Sherlock asked before he turned back to Lestrade, "I'm so very sorry, Inspector, but we simply can't take the case." He suddenly flung his index finger right at John, "He refused!"

"Oh, that's just toobad." Lestrade plummeted his hands in his coat pockets, getting the gist of Sherlock's performance, "We needed you two, we did. Couldn't solve it without you."

"I know. Such a shame."

"That woman's sister will go on without any sort of closure."

"Just awful."

"She'll be crying for hours."

"Hmm, might even commit suicide."

"I thin-"

"FINE!" John hissed, throwing up his hands in the air in surrender, "Fine! I'll do it. Just stop with this idiotic charade! Please, you're both embarrassing me." He rubbed his face with his palms, beyond irritated, but to see Sherlock's glow after having giving in, well, it almost made it worth it. Almost.

"Excellent, John!" Sherlock clapped as he turned to the DI, "It looks like the game, Lestrade, is on!"

I'm going to try to make this a multi-chapter story. I haven't done this kind of story in a long while, so I figured I would give it a shot.

Please review! :D