Positions Vacant (Sherlock BBC Fanfic)

A/N – the problem with the internet dying is that you can't get on the internet to tell people that the internet is dead…

A what if fic (yes, another one) where the whole incident at the pool is a very subtle job offer from Moriarty to Sherlock. How would the people around Sherlock react – and how would Sherlock react to them too?

Standalone from the one-shot series, the magic series and the murder of john watson story.

Eventual SLASH

Disclaimer: settings and characters as depicted in BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.

Aftermath

It was more difficult than Sherlock had expected to wake from the concussion he'd suffered at the pool. He spent several dark days – a total of six in all according to his brother and the date he finally noticed on the SkyNews channel – swimming in and out of consciousness in varying degrees of lucidity. Then there was the dislocated shoulder to contend with, as well as the bullet graze to the small of his back. He'd apparently dislocated his arm when he'd entered the water at such speed and angle as to make the fall – or rather the impact from where John had tackled him and the explosion had hurled him – similar to the effect of landing from a great height on a concrete surface. The bullet would have killed him – or paralysed him – had John not moved him when he did.

John had saved his life. That went without saying, which is why he became so very vexed with people who insisted on mentioning it time and again. Sally Donovan ended up on the receiving end of a very nice little rant that had her actually lose shades of colour by the end. Sherlock felt much better after that.

John was not conscious. He'd taken a bullet graze to the back of the head, another through his once wounded shoulder and one in the side that had caused all sorts of medical complications. Sherlock's flatmate was being kept in a medical coma in order to give his body time to heal and to keep him from feeling the pain that his wounds would surely impart. Sherlock disliked that John was being kept from him in this manner – there was no point visiting the man while he was unconscious, no matter that the thin genius' chest felt tight whenever he was away from John and the only cure seemed to be finding his way to John's room – but the consulting detective was not sociopathic enough to want his flatmate awake and in agony.

John would be no use to him if he couldn't think through the pain – or at least pay proper attention to Sherlock while he spoke. Or at least, that was what he told Sally Donovan in his diatribe.

At Lestrade's insistence and against Mycroft's wishes – which was mainly why he did it – Sherlock gave a full recounting of the incident at the pool with Moriarty, including a word-for-word repetition of their 'conversation' and as many of his observations of his enemy as he thought Lestrade would understand. Lestrade recorded the recount, transcribed it and then insisted on going over it in excruciating detail. Nothing Sherlock could say appeared to faze him and a part of the consulting detective welcomed the distraction from his wait for John to return to the land of the conscious. Only as small part, though: the rest of him was impatient, curt and sarcastic.

Four days after Sherlock woke, ten days after the pool incident, Moriarty's people delivered a recording of the confrontation between psychopath and sociopath. Lestrade informed Sherlock of its existence, but didn't show it to the other man until he tried to check out of the hospital against medical advice, setting the entire ward in uproar. Sherlock watched the people on the laptop moving and walking, taking in John's face and actions with the clarity of distance, as well as finally placing Moriarty's words into context.

He'd been offered a job. The worlds only consulting criminal wanted to work with him, not against him. His condescending dismissal of John, the sneer he'd spoken with… the subtle tones and phrases he'd used… If Sherlock wanted it, he could be working on an array of puzzles so much more intricate and advanced than those offered by the Yard or on his website. Sherlock would never be bored again.

Lestrade had also picked up on the job offer – as had Donovan. Anderson would have been told by Donovan – the man didn't do subtle at all, it was a disgrace really – and was no doubt in the midst of proclaiming 'I knew it' at the top of his lungs for all to hear. Donovan was probably singing harmony to her adulterous lover, but it was Lestrade's reaction that Sherlock noticed the most. His DI was more… reserved than before. Usually the Yarder presented a combination of exasperated parent and jaded colleague to Sherlock's many quirks and mannerisms. Now, there was a distinct level of caution to his responses – Sherlock got the impression that Lestrade was re-evaluating their working relationship.

They were waiting for him to take up the offer, that much was obvious. Sherlock wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't, if they were all going to be so obvious and tedious about it.

Then, the day after the delivery of the tape, John was woken from his coma. Sherlock insisted on being there and the staff were wary enough of him to know that trying to keep him away would result in havoc of a scale they didn't want to experience again. Confined to a wheelchair in the corner of the room, Sherlock watched very carefully as John was tested, checked and otherwise examined. It wasn't until his flatmate called his name that Sherlock came forward, leaving the wheelchair behind and perching on the edge of John's bed. He took hold of the hand that was reaching for him and squeezed it carefully, watching as the barely functioning doctor took in his sling, hospital issued pyjamas and tried to come up with a diagnosis.

"Very good, John," Sherlock offered the praise in his usual tones, knowing that John hated to be condescended to, "A dislocated shoulder and a small bullet graze are all that remains of our little adventure."

"Good," John wheezed, his voice hoarse from the breathing tube, "Mori… arty?"

"Sent a disc with a recording of our encounter at the pool to Scotland Yard," Sherlock reported, "Though that could have been done post mortem – some lieutenant completing instructions given days or weeks before. There was no body recovered from the pool in the location he'd been standing; his snipers all seem to have survived as well."

John nodded, rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's knuckles in an absent minded sort of way that made Sherlock's chest feel quite good actually. Before he could begin dissecting the pool incident with John they were interrupted by other doctors, who insisted that John needed rest and quiet to recover. John gave Sherlock a querying look, offering to stay awake if his flatmate needed him; taking in the pallor of the man, the hitches in his breath and the sweat beading his upper lip, Sherlock shook his head and squeezed the hand he still held firmly.

"You need to recover quickly, John," Sherlock stated, "We've work to do."

John nodded and let his eyes close, his body slowly loosing all tension as he dropped back into sleep. Sherlock stayed where he was for almost an hour, only letting go once he was sure his flatmate was resting properly. He instructed the nurses to keep a close watch over his flatmate and allowed an orderly to put him back in the wheelchair and take him back to his room.

They both needed to recover if they were to establish Moriarty's status. Although Sherlock had once described his body as transport of his brain, he knew well enough that he could not solve cases if he was unable to move, to attend crime scenes and laboratories. This was one case where he'd have to wait a short while for his body to catch up with his brain.

That he was also waiting for John was less of an issue. John had just as much invested in this case as he did now.