Summary: Takes place during a study in Pink. Sherlock's thoughts concerning his new flatmate.

Author's note: Just a short piece focusing on Sherlock. In case anyone is interested the sequel to 'Meaning of identity' is coming along. I'm just writing chapter 9! It's either going to be called 'countdown' (not sure about this title, I keep thinking of Carol Vordaman...) or 'Hellfire'. Anyway enjoy :-).

Assistance

"I need an assistant."
Sherlock needed someone or something to talk at. He could've taken the skull but people tended to stare. Sherlock didn't like to draw attention to himself, he liked to watch, to observe, not to be the object of discussion.
A combination of factors lead to Sherlock asking John along. The first was Anderson. There was a history of antagonism there and Sherlock couldn't be bothered with it. The addition of a stranger would curb his tongue...for the most part. The second was Sally. Her attitude and name calling irked him, despite the pretence he maintained that it didn't. He needed someone, anyone would have done and John was there.
"Your more the sitting down type I can tell. You sit there and rest your leg..."
"Damn my leg!"
The explosion of fury peaked his curiosity. It might have been if he hadn't called out at that point he would've gone on his own. The shout reminded him that he had the option of bringing someone with him. Mrs Hudson, bless her, was not an option. He'd already known without asking that John would go with him. An army doctor, used to action, plunged suddenly into a civilian life. John was bored.

The conversation in the taxi had been a revelation. The surprise of someone actively admiring his work instead of being annoyed was sufficiently different as to increase his interest in his companion by a minute amount. John had been impressed by his deductions and not put off by them.

After he'd found the pink suitcase the time taken to get back to Baker Street gave him space to think. Rather like a child prodding and picking at a wound he texted John to see if he would return...and use his phone of course. John did come back and when he'd learned that John had refused to take money from his brother to spy on him Sherlock at first inwardly sighed at his stupidity. The extra money would have come in handy. It hadn't occurred to him that John's action was one of surprising loyalty.

The aftermath had opened his eyes. The collision of two trains of thoughts culminating in an explosion of revelation. When he realised that the description of the murderer of Jeff Hope and John Watson were the same. John had killed Jeff Hope to protect him. That wasn't the surprise. That John liked him, despite himself was. Sherlock knew he worked better with an assistant. Though through a twist of fate he'd gained so much more. To his astonishment Sherlock had found a friend.