John walked into the living room and sat on his favorite armchair. Sherlock had left a couple hours ago to solve a case, and he was enjoying the peace and quiet. Yes, that's what he needed. He picked up the morning paper from the table and started to read it, until someone yelled "I'M BORED!"
John gave a heavy sigh and saw the young teenager standing next to the door, frowning at him.
She was Scarlett Holmes, the only daughter of the famous consulting detective of Sherlock Holmes. Her curly black hair was loose, she was wearing her short gym pants, a grey shirt, had some makeup on, and her greenish-blue eyes were glaring at him.
"You wouldn't be bored if you hadn't been suspended from school," he replied casually, turning back to his paper.
"It's not my fault that I punched Samantha in the face," she protested, waving her hands in the air.
John lifts up the paper again and pretends to read it. Scarlett just went back to school a week ago, and things went well until Sherlock got a phone call from the headmaster to tell him that Scarlett was suspended from school for punching one of her class mates during lunch. When Sherlock and John arrived the school they found out (well Sherlock did) the classmate Scarlett punched was the headmaster's daughter.
"Well you should be glad they didn't expel you. Why did you punch her in the face anyway?" John asked as he lowered the paper a little to face her.
"She called me a freak for knowing people's life without knowing them and living with two dads," she replied casually as she made her coffee in the kitchen.
"I'm not gay!" John protest.
"Then try not to act like you are!" she argued back with a hiss.
John took a deep breath to hold on his anger.
"Did your dad take away your iPod?" John asked.
"Yes." Scarlett muttered, looking down at her hands.
"Good," said John and he went back reading his paper.
"Where is he anyway?" Scarlett asked as she sat on her father's favorite arm chair, swinging her legs over the arms.
"He went to solve a case," John replied.
"Good, he hasn't had one in a week." said Scarlett as she drank her cup of coffee.
"I hope this one doesn't bore him." said John as he rolled his eyes.
Ten minutes later the living room door bursts open and Sherlock charged in, stopping just inside the room and slamming the end of the harpoon onto the ground. John and Scarlett looked round and their eyes widened at the sight of Sherlock, who was wearing black trousers and a white shirt. His entire body was covered with dark red spurts of blood.
"Well, that was tedious." Sherlock uttered, rolling his eyes.
"You went on the tube like that?" John asked, astounded.
"None of the cabs would take me," Sherlock replied looking irritated as he left the room to go clean himself.
"Please don't tell me you walked around London like that," Scarlett looked at him with disgust. "What if someone recognized you?"
Sherlock ignored her and walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Later he is back in the room, having cleaned himself up and changed into a clean shirt and trousers with one of his blue dressing gowns over the top. Still carrying the harpoon and pacing rapidly between the door and the window, looking repeatedly at John and Scarlett as they flicked through the newspaper.
"Nothing?" Sherlock asked impatiently, glaring at John.
"Military coup in Uganda," John replied, rolling his eyes.
"Hmmm," Sherlock hummed as he paced around the room. While Scarlett was flicking through the newspaper, she started to giggle, then laugh uncontrollably.
"What are you laughing about?" Sherlock asked, staring at her gleeful face.
"Nothing, there's just another picture of you wearing that hat," Scarlett chuckled, finishing off her coffee.
Sherlock made a disgusted noise and continue to pace around the room.
"Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle," said John as he pointed the newspaper, looking at Sherlock with a smirk.
"Nothing of importance?"
After he said that, he slammed the end of the harpoon onto the ground and roared with rage, "Oh, God! Will the madness end?"
Both John and Scarlett rolled their eyes for they were getting annoyed with Sherlock's boredom.
"Wow, you're worse than me. Maybe you should go to school for me." Scarlett teased with a smile.
"Dull." Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes.
Sherlock was now looking at John with intensity, and he said to him, "John, I need some. Get me some."
John just looked at him. "No." he replied calmly folding his paper up.
"Get me some." Sherlock continue to argue.
"No." John replied more loudly.
John drops the newspaper and points at Sherlock sternly, "Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what. Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radius will sell you any."
"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" Sherlock asked, looking to the heavens for guidance.
Both Sherlock and John were looking at Scarlett. She clears her throat pointedly and tried to avoid their gaze.
Sherlock looked at the empty door and shouted, "Mrs. Hudson!"
"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now." Said John as he stands to help his friend who was hurling paper off the tables as he searches desperately for what he needs.
But Sherlock ignored him and continues to look for them, "Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me."
John and Scarlett remain silent, Sherlock straightens up and turns his most appealing puppy-dog eyes on them, hesitating before he speaks and almost developing the word a couple of times before actually speaking it.
"Please." He begged.
Scarlett and John looked at each other then look at Sherlock, "No."
"I'll let you know next week's lottery number."
John chuckled.
Sherlock then looked at his daughter, "I'll give your iPod back."
"They are…." But Scarlett trailed off when she saw John's glare.
"Get the iPod, and I'll phone Mycroft to send you back to school." John threatened her.
Scarlett frowned and looked at her father, "Sorry I can't."
"It was worth a try." Sherlock uttered.
He looks around the room, and then hurls himself to the floor in front of the fireplace. Mrs. Hudson arrives at the door and comes in.
"Ooh-ooh," said Mrs. Hudson as she walked in.
"My secret supply! What have you done with my secret supply?" Sherlock yelled as he continued to scrabble around the fireplace.
"Eh?" Mrs. Hudson looked at him with confusion.
"His Cigarettes," said Scarlett, rolling her eyes.
"What have you done with them? Where are they?" Sherlock continued to yell, throwing his books onto the floor.
"You know you never let me touch your things! Ooh, chance would be a fine thing," said Mrs. Hudson as she looked around at the mess in the flat.
Sherlock got up and was now facing her, "I thought you weren't my housekeeper."
"I'm not," said Mrs. Hudson as she glared at him.
Sherlock stomps back over to the harpoon and picks it up again. Behind him, Mrs. Hudson looks down at John and Scarlett who mimes for her to offer Sherlock a drink. She looks at Sherlock again.
"How about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon."
"Yes, that actually sounds good right now Mrs. Hundson. Oh My Gosh Dad put that harpoon away!" Scarlett yelled at her father.
"I need something stronger than tea. Seven per cent stronger."
He glared out of the window, then turned back towards Mrs. Hudson and aimed the harpoon at her. She flinches. "You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again."
Mrs. Hundson looked at him with confusion at his remark, "Pardon?"
Sherlock pointed his harpoon at her hands "Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads don't we?"
He sniffs deeply as he finally stops aiming the harpoon at her, "Mmm… Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website – you should look it up."
Mrs. Hundson rolled her eyes, "Please"
"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."
"Sherlock!"
"Dad!"
"Well, nobody except me." Sherlock protested.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't."
She storms out of the flat, slamming the living room door closed as she goes. Sherlock leaps over the back of his chair from behind it, and then sits on the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees like a moody child. John slams his newspaper down while Scarlett stands next to him, as she crosses her arms on her chest.
"What the bloody hell was all that about?" John asked
"You don't understand," said Sherlock as he rocked himself back and forth.
"Dad, go down there and apologize," said Scarlett sternly.
Sherlock looked up and looked at her with confusion, "Apologize?"
"Yes, Sherlock! Go down and apologize." John took Scarlett's side, looking at Sherlock pleadingly.
Sherlock sigh, "Oh, John and Scarlett, I envy you both so much."
Both Scarlett and John looked at each other and gave the "What did he just say?" look and looked at him again with curiosity.
"You envy us?" John asked
"Your minds: so placid, straightforward, and barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad," said Sherlock as he dozes up but still looked stressed.
"Whoa! Remember I'm half of you and I use my mind more than you think!" Scarlett protested as she raises her finger to silence him.
"I need a case!" Sherlock yelled frantically.
"You've just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" John yelled back irritated.
Sherlock jumps up in the air and then lands in the seated position on the chair and started drumming the fingers of both hands on the arms of the chair while stomping his feet on the floor.
"That was this morning! When's the next one?" Sherlock asked impatiently through clenched teeth.
"Nothing on the website?" Scarlett asked trying to calm both of the two grown men.
Sherlock gets up and walks over to the table, collects his laptop and hands it to John, who looks at the message on there while Sherlock stomps over the window.
"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?"
"Bluebell?" said John with confusion.
"A rabbit, John!" Sherlock yelled, as if it were the most obvious thing.
"Oh" both John and Scarlett uttered.
"Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, she turned luminous ..." Sherlock said sarcastically.
"So the rabbit glows in the dark?" Scarlett raised a brow with disbelief.
""Like a fairy," Sherlock replied with a high squeaky voice.
"According to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch was still locked no sign of a forced entry ..." Sherlock trailed off and his expression became intense.
"Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's a missing rabbit."
Both Scarlett and John gave him a weird look, "Are you serious?"
"It's this, or Cluedo." Sherlock told them, with a small smile.
"Ah, no!" said John as he closed the laptop to put it back on the desk. "We are never playing that again!"
"Never," Scarlett whispered as she rolled her eyes.
"Why not?" Sherlock asked, confused.
"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why." John pointed out to him.
"Well, it was the only possible solution." Sherlock scoffed.
"It's not in the rules." Scarlett reminded him.
"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock yelled furiously.
All the sudden the doorbell rings. John holds up a finger thoughtfully, while Scarlett stood next to the door, as Sherlock looks towards the living room door.
"Single ring." John pointed out.
"Maximum pressure." Scarlett whispered.
"Just under the half second." Said Sherlock.
They all look at each other and whispered, "Client."