Title: Gang of Four
Rating: T
Spoilers: Begins after S2E2, and has some plot points from the film Three Kings – go rent it if you haven't seen it...two words...one is George, the other is Clooney.
Disclaimer: [Insert random generality about not mine, no monetary gains, intellectual property and the public domain] and GO!
Chapter One: The Good Life Was So Elusive
It was just one of those days.
John had overslept and it set the mood for the whole day.
The hot water still wasn't working. "Sherlock!""I needed the copper piping for an experiment!"
No milk left for the tea. "Sherlock!" "Experiment John! Besides, it was about to go off anyway."
He dribbled jam on the front of his last clean shirt because he just tripped over the crap left all over the sitting room floor. "Sherlock!" "I didn't leave it there." "And I suppose the harpoon just waltzed it way over here on its own?"
He couldn't find a pair of matching socks that didn't have a hole in one of them. "Sher-" Well, not really Sherlock, but it might as well be.
God, the man infuriated him. He didn't know why he stayed with Sherlock. Well, on moments of deep reflection he knew why. But, he kept that knowledge packed away and well hidden as it quite honestly unsettled him, and he didn't know how to deal with it.
The Adler woman had seen it. And, if Sherlock ever found out...well, best not to think of it now.
John grumbled his way out of the flat and headed off to the surgery, where Sarah gave him the evil eye for being late, as well as the case of a four year old with an upset stomach. Little Tommy Darlington's morning jam ended up decorating the front of John's shirt too.
He shook his head and hoped the day wouldn't get any worse.
Lestrade eyed John up and down. "Rough day?"
"Better than his." John sighed wearily, pointing at the body before them.
It was pissing down rain as John watched Sherlock move about the crime scene with the grace of a ballet dancer. He stared at the fluid and articulated movements as Sherlock rattled off his deductions about the corpse and the trampled grass around the victim.
"Curious...poisoned dart..."
"...one legged man...the other barefoot...small..."
Sherlock dropped down on all fours and sniffed the ground. "Burning...burnt...creosote...where is there creosote...where...where?"
"That's it! John!" He bounded up and was off like a shot between the panda cars, yanking something out of a startled constable's grasp, and disappeared down an alleyway.
By the time John had reacted and taken off after Sherlock, he lost him where the alleyway crossed another main street. He looked to his left and right, but could not make out which way he had gone in the increasing downpour. He hit the speed dial on his mobile, but Sherlock didn't answer. John spun around and caught a glimpse of a running shadow, and took off after it. He ended getting himself completely turned around and nearly lost.
"Dammit! Sherlock where are you, and why don't you pick-up your damn mobile and answer!" John spat down the line to Sherlock's voice-mail.
By the time John made it back to the crime scene, he was soaking wet and miserable.
Lestrade was trying to calm down the irate constable from the K-9 unit. "He just took Toby. That's just not on Sir, that's just not on!"
John briskly rubbed his hand up and down his face several times to wipe away the rain and frustration as he prepared to smooth over another of Sherlock's 'deeds'.
As he was approaching Lestrade his mobile rang. John snatched it up quickly to his ear. "So help me God Sherlock, if you've taken that police dog..."
"Police dog?" A voice chuckled out. "Who is this Sherlock...he sounds like a bit of a laugh!"
John's eyebrows drew together in confusion. The voice sounded like...like...but it couldn't be. "Who is this?
The amused tone hadn't left the caller's voice. "Thumper, I know it's been awhile, but I thought I would have made more of an impression than that."
"Ratched." John closed his eyes and smiled.
The day just got better.
A/N: I'm not sure how to classify this by genre yet. I know where I'm going, but I just don't know how to get there.