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The Untitled Book

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John glanced over at Sherlock, who was wrapped in his old dressing gown and sprawled dramatically in his chair, for once having ceded custody of the sofa. Which was only fair since John had taken the brunt of the damage during their last case.

"What about The Tunnel Calamity? Assuming, of course, that I survive long enough to write it up. I may actually die of boredom this time."

"Sounds like a bad romance novel, which might be a step up from your usual stories,"  Sherlock replied, not bothering to open his eyes.

"The Sinking Spell?"

"It was a trap door, no magic involved. Just a woman with a cape, a flair for the dramatic, and an accomplice."

"Reminds me a lot of you," John said, laughing. That was enough for Sherlock to open his eyes and glare, but not enough to make him actually move.

"What about The Abandoned Sock?" John suggested, referring to the lone item of clothing they'd found in the run down motel room they'd first tracked their suspects to. "And I've never written about your sock index, that would make for an interesting tie in."

"One has nothing to do with the other and I will delete your entire site if you write one word about my organizational system," Sherlock answered dryly.

"Is that what this is?" John said, laughing again as he took in the comfortable clutter of their sitting room. "The Dwindling Party? They did manage to make their competition disappear, permanently. "

"That's terrible even for you and considering you came up with The Geek Interpreter and The Speckled Blonde, it's not like it was a high bar to begin with.

"And we finally have the proof that you do indeed read my blog. I knew you were a liar."

"I can hardly help it if people insist on using your ridiculous blog titles to refer to our cases."

Years of practice made it easy to ignore the insults and these hardly ranked among Sherlock's worst, but John felt warm as he always did when Sherlock referred to the work as theirs.

"The Loathsome Couple?"

"That one I wholeheartedly agree with," Sherlock said, the venom clear in his voice as he sat up and leaned forward in his chair, putting his face in his hands.

Worried about his friend, John asked gently, "Sherlock, come here," but Sherlock didn't move and John was in no shape to go over to him. "Please, love." Sherlock finally stood up and walked over to the sofa and stood next to it, clearly unsure of what to do.

They'd had lots of practice figuring out how to curl up on the couch together, but given the condition of his arm, John couldn't hold Sherlock the way he usually would. He'd already spent so much time lying on his back in bed staring at the ceiling that he was in no hurry to go back to it, even if Sherlock was with him.

Instead, John reached up with his good arm and took Sherlock's hand, tugging him down and Sherlock went willingly. He leaned over to kiss John softly, an affirmation that they both had made it home that that night, and stroked his face.

"I'm alright you know," John told him, but Sherlock shook his head, looking sad. "Fine, I will be alright, then."

The magician had gotten off two shots, one hit his upper arm and the other deeply grazed his John's left side as he twisted around to tackle her companion as he ran through the sewers. Sherlock had been right behind her and both had been apprehended but it was going to be a long road to recovery.

John was not looking forward to the physical therapy as he'd already had more than enough for a lifetime, thank you very much. And there was the ever present threat of boredom, both his and Sherlock's, although coming up with ways to amuse Sherlock could sometimes be entertaining in its own right. Like tonight with the blog titles, that was fun.

This was the first time either had been hurt since they'd deepened their relationship. It wasn't that Sherlock had loved him any less before but felt he could show it now, although it was still difficult for him sometimes. Just as John was thinking that, Sherlock leaned in to kiss him again.

"You'll need to be careful out there on your own," John told him and Sherlock shook his head again.

"We're only taking cases we can solve from home until you're well enough to be running around again." Sherlock smiled at John for the first time since he'd been hurt. "You know how lost I am without my blogger."