I wanted to try this out. This will consist of Johnlock and Mystrade. Enjoy.
Summary
"You're being absolutely daft, Sherlock," she allowed a small grin to form on her face as a light sprinkle of warmth began to show in her pastel green eyes
"How so?" Sherlock's head tilted slightly out of curiosity as he looked down at the woman.
"I've seen the way you two look at one another. You love him, and he loves you," her eyes captured his and he could not look away from the truth in them.
"That's not exa-" Sherlock moved to speak but she cut him off with a dismissive shake of her head.
"Don't lie to me, Sherlock. You love him and the only the only thing holding you back is you," she stopped shaking her head and jabbed one finger into his chest right around where his heart was beating beneath his skin.
"Don't be so quick to dismiss yourself," Sherlock informed her and she sighed, running a hand through her hair thoughtfully.
"I'm no good for you, Sherlock," she reminded him. "I never have been."
Her name was Gwendolyn Clover. She had befriended the Mycroft brothers when she was but a teenager, usually preferring the tall and lean Sherlock over his always attempting to diet brother. Is it possible that during this time their feelings may have become more than just platonic? Or was that just a one-sided game that was never to be played? Gwen is back after having disappeared for years and she finds herself on a mission to help her two friends find love. One of them is too business centered to realize that he is falling for a certain Detective Inspector. And the other... well she knows exactly what's holding him back and she plans to remove the obstacle separating the Detective from his Doctor.
Three months had passed, leaves finally beginning to break off and flutter to the ground as late fall settled into London. Three months since the return of a once thought to be dead detective named Sherlock Holmes. Baker Street was busy with the hustle and bustle of life, only the occasional pair of eyes flickering up to look at a certain flat that was home to the world's only consulting detective and his flatmate. In the moderately busy street, it was no wonder that she didn't stick out too much.
She wore a crimson sweater-dress with black leggings and a dark trench coat with her pale hands stuffed away into the pockets. Boots that ran halfway up her calf adorned her feet and clicked softly as she made her way along the walkway. Her eyes were a chilly pastel green, looking almost as empty as a long ago dried out well. Hanging loose from her head were long locks of blonde that swayed with the wind that came from the cabs and other vehicles that drove past. She was just about to stop outside 221 when the door swung open and a gentleman she did not know nearly ran into her.
"Oh, my apologies," he came to a stop in front of her, his slightly aged face jerking back a bit as he looked up at her. His hair was a very light brown with some grey and white mingling with the light browns. He looked to be an army gentleman, by the way he held himself and the certain tone to his eyes that you rarely see in the average man. "I'm John. John Watson."
He stuck out his right hand and she took it, shaking it with a small smile and an emotionless, "Nice to meet you, I'm Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn Clover."
"I think it's safe to assume you're here to see Sherlock, then?" the man named John reached up with the same hand he had shaken her hand with and ran it through his own short hair.
"That would be a safe assumption," Gwendolyn told him, sticking her hand back into the pocket in her coat. Mr. Watson nodded, informing her that the man she sought was just up the stairs. Having bid John farewell, Gwendolyn moved through the doorway and up the stairs before finding 221 B. Once she found it, Miss Clover knocked on the wooden door and waited.
"Just a moment!" a voice she recognized called from within the flat and she heard a few things fall and clatter to the floor along with a muttered 'John won't mind a small blood stain. It is to be expected, after all.'. The small smile on Gwendolyn's face threatened to spread to a grin at the statement. After a few scuffling noises and a 'John why didn't you get the do- Oh yes, he went out to fetch milk.' the door opened to reveal a tall man with high cheekbones and brown curls on his head that scooped across his forehead gracefully. And a suspicious-looking crimson stain on his shirt along with a scimitar in one hand. "What is it you ne- Gwendolyn?"
"Hello Sherlock."
John was attempting, unsuccessfully, to hail one of the passing cabs. The crisp air was beginning to nip at his nose as he finally caught one of the black cabs. Beginning to move towards it with a small shopping list in hand, he was interrupted by his phone going off. Frowning slightly, he entered the cab quickly before pulling out his phone. It was Mycroft calling, who else? Sherlock would always text John rather than go through the effort of a two minute phone call. John pressed the phone to his ear and buried whatever annoyance and loathing he still had for the elder of the two Holmes brothers.
"Hello John," Mycroft's voice filled his ear, sounding just as emotionless and detached as ever.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mycroft?" John looked casually out one of the windows of the cab as he informed the cabby of his destination. The cab passed people, morphing them into a mirage of color as it finally broke out onto a mostly traffic free road.
"I wished to speak to you about a matter concerning my brother," Mycroft informed him in his business-like tone that made John wonder what an excited Mycroft would sound like. Knowing Mycroft, probably the same.
"What is it this time?" John sighed into the phone, checking out the window to see if he was close to his destination yet.
"Do you recall the woman you nearly tumbled into on your way outside just minutes ago?" Mycroft inquired, earning an impatient 'yes' from the usually patient John Watson. "Her name is Gwendolyn Clover."
"I already know that. What about her?" John felt a slight wrinkle form above the bridge of his nose between two eyebrows.
"It would be in my brother's best interests if she was to be sent away before she can cause any of her usual mischief," Mycroft informed John. "She was an old acquaintance of ours that had been absent with good reason, John."
Before John could question further, Mycroft had ended the call.
Sherlock was now perched in a chair, eyes not leaving his guest for a moment as she settled herself onto the sofa. Her eyes, however, roamed what they could see of his flat. Gwendolyn knew that Sherlock was awaiting an explanation. Or, more likely, a confirmation. She wouldn't doubt for a moment that he already knew why she had left. After a few minutes of tense silence, she moved her gaze back to Sherlock.
"Your flat is quite handsome, Sherlock," Gwendolyn stated, purposely avoiding the topic of which Sherlock wished to broach. Sherlock nodded, uninterested in discussing his flat with her. "I know you are wondering why I am here. You also want me to explain my leaving so abruptly all those years ago."
"I already have that one figured out, Miss Clover. Or is it Mrs. now? No, you're not wearing a wedding ring. No indentation on your finger to indicate such a thing having been there in the first place," Sherlock's eyes went into action, fluttering up and down Gwendolyn as he struggled to deduce her.
"Still deducing people, I see," Gwendolyn crossed her right leg over the left, a small smirk playing on her lips as Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "If you must know, Mr. Holmes, I have grown bored and wished to return to London for a time so that I could visit you and Mycroft. Of course we both know Mycroft will be thrilled to see me."
"He never was able to locate his driver's license," Sherlock grinned and Gwendolyn pulled out a piece of plastic from her coat pocket. Flashing the picture of a very young Mycroft at Sherlock before tossing it to him.
"I believe it would be safe to assume that you at least knew that I had it with me the entire time," Gwendolyn's smirk grinned slightly as she watched Sherlock pocket the license. Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the flat's door opening and his flatmate entering.
"Sherlock I got some milk and a few other things and would greatly appreciate it if you quit putting body-" the doctor cut himself short at the sight of Gwendolyn Clover sitting on his sofa and conversing with Sherlock. "Hello Gwendolyn."
"Call me Gwen, John. Gwendolyn is far too wordy," Gwen smiled over at the doctor and Sherlock watched the interaction with curiosity in his eyes. The detective remembered how Gwendolyn used to be so cold towards strangers that they shivered in her gaze. Now she was giving his blogger permission to call her by a shortened version of her name? "And quit gawking, Sherlock, you don't want to form wrinkles on that pretty face of yours."
"Sorry, he likes to-"
"To stare, I know," Gwendolyn interrupted John with another smile that was much warmer than her eyes. He chose to focus his gaze on the smile rather than her icy pastel green eyes. She couldn't blame him, a very few people would look her in the eyes when she spoke to them."Sherlock always has enjoyed making deductions, that will never change. He also doesn't realize how awkward staring at a person can become after five minutes without at least offering to by them dinner."
John chuckled and moved to store away the groceries he had been carrying. As he did so, Gwendolyn almost chuckled at the distinct muttering of 'Good Lord, Sherlock. Eyeballs next to the perishables? Really?'. Sherlock smirked slightly and continued to even as John returned to the room and stood semi-awkwardly.
"So, Mr. Watson," Gwendolyn's tone turned instantly icy, a large contrast to her previously warmer tone. John's eyes flickered to hers and even they had turned far colder. "I think I should like to speak with you before I take my leave. I have some things that must be taken care of and cannot procrastinate any further."
"Oh- Um, sure," John responded hastily as Gwendolyn stood from her seat with the quick gracefulness that almost reminded him of Sherlock if not for the slightly smoother way of moving that the woman possessed. It was almost predator-like and thinking of it as such sent a shiver up John's spine. Nodding, Gwendolyn moved over to the still-seated Sherlock and slid her hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. Her fingers moved over the screen deftly and she returned the phone to Sherlock without a word. Her footsteps were the last sounds Sherlock heard from her before John had followed Gwendolyn out of 221B.
In the hall, Gwendolyn finally turned and faced John.
"I know that Mycroft has contacted you. I also know that he has likely told you to keep me away from Sherlock. He has perfect reason to and I will leave 221B for good if that is what you would prefer. You should know that I am only giving you the option because I know what Sherlock needs and he stopped needing me so long ago," Gwendolyn vaguely reminded John of one of the Holmes brothers as she spoke, barely stopping for a breath as she went on.
"I don't think there is much of an issue with you visiting every now and then," John shrugged. "Just don't do anything to hurt Sherlock and there isn't much else I can think of that would be an issue."
"Very well," with that, Gwendolyn left. Her coat swished slightly behind her and her shoes clicked lightly against the floor. As she exited out onto Baker Street, Gwendolyn spotted the black car awaiting her. She smirked as a woman exited the car, a phone in her hand that she didn't look up from even once as she opened one of the back doors. "I see that Mycroft isn't wasting any time."