Title: In Puris Naturalibus
Author: DataAngel (TheNinth) (previously mickeylover303)
Pairing: gen
Fandoms: Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Series: 1) Two Bedrooms w/shared Bath
Summary: For treez_r_green, who commented here with "If you wanted to write a sequel where they share a shower/bath (in a non-sexual way) I would love you forever because that is my ultimate kink and no one ever writes it! (I suppose because it would normally be a bit weird to share a shower or bath with someone you weren't intimate with!)" Normally, it would. But Sherlock's not conventionally normal, now is he?

***

The man they'd been pursuing turned unexpectedly and charged at Sherlock. The two went down into the greasy, rotten muck that had oozed out from the large assortment of bin bags behind the restaurant.

John ran toward Sherlock. He thought about when his last round of jabs had been, and decided that the next time he was at work he'd make sure his tetanus was up-to-date, since he was pretty sure he'd be at risk for it more often now. Especially since he found himself diving headlong into rubbish, and grabbing the neck of Sherlock's assailant.

John pinned him face-down in the refuse. Sherlock sent a text to Lestrade. The two men looked at each other.

"I think I might be sick," John said.

"It is a rather interesting combination of smells, isn't it? Cabbage, certainly. And some sort of fish. Beets. There's one stuck to your arm." Sherlock reached over and flicked the offending vegetable away.

"Thank you. I can do without the complete list." John tried very hard not to breathe through his nose, which actually made it worse, because he was sure he could taste the stench.

The ten minutes it took for Lestrade and his crew to show up felt like hours.

As soon as he stepped out of his car, Lestrade said "Jesus," and covered his mouth and nose with his hands. "Do me a favour? Get in with him," he pointed to the suspect that was being handcuffed, "and I'll give you a lift home. Can't leave you wandering smelling like that."

"You don't really expect us to share a ride with someone you're currently arresting and who attacked Sherlock..." John started, but Sherlock spoke over him. "Yes, thank you. That would be very welcome."

Sherlock questioned the suspect during whole ride. He asked about the man's family, his job, minute details that seemed irrelevant to the crime he'd committed. John noted there was an odd slur to his speech, but didn't pay much attention to what his answers were.

He was relieved when they were finally home and away from the man.

"D'you want to shower first," he asked as he followed Sherlock up the stairs.

"We'll share," Sherlock replied, curtly. "If one of us waits, the whole flat will smell."

John grabbed several large bin bags. They undressed and shoved their clothes in the bags to be dealt with later ("Probably have to burn them," John said and Sherlock looked pleased with the idea and muttered something about the melting point of man-made fibres).

"Jesus, Sherlock! Could you maybe turn the cold on just a little?"

"Hotter is better for killing germs."

"Not if it's going to sear my flesh off."

"Fine. Baby."

"Whatever. Hand me the shampoo." John scrubbed at his scalp and moved out of the way so Sherlock could stand under the spray. "So did you learn anything?"

"Our friend suffers from schizophrenia. Undifferentiated, most likely, and probably aggravated by a recent onset of Bell's Palsy."

"The slur in his speech."

"Very good, John!" Sherlock sounded genuinely pleased. They traded places again and John started to rinse the shampoo out. "Anyhow, the increased hearing in one ear probably amplified the effects of the hallucinations he was having. Hand me a flannel? He honestly believed that woman he attacked was a monster from whatever game he'd been playing."

Sherlock continued to talk, his words occasionally muffled or distorted as he washed his face. "Remind me to call Lestrade to tell him that. The man needs medical help more than he needs jail time." They switched again.

"So you think he really would have harmed her."

"Harmed her? He would've killed her."

"I was being polite."

"Murder is never polite."

John stepped out of the tub and began towelling off. "I'm going to call for dinner. Are you eating?"

"Hot and sour soup," Sherlock said as he got out of the tub, Then he added "Please" as an afterthought.

John handed the towel to Sherlock and went to his room to dress.

***

Next story in series - How Sherlock Holmes and I Started Sleeping Together.