Obviously I don't own the characters or their modern day interpretations. That honour goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC. But I can play with them and make them dance to my tune for a while ;)
-o0o-
"Well children, we found Tuffy Bear and Baby Rosie, now all we have to do is find Jason!" The young, female presenter gurned for the cameras, looking around in a caricature of searching
"What a complete load of tripe they're force feeding infants these days!" Sherlock scowled, pulling his jacket tighter. "Is it any wonder everyone in this entire country is so dull and stupid when they're treated like utter blind idiots from the moment they're born?"
John sighed and lowered his paper. "Sherlock, if you don't want to watch CBeebies I suggest you remember what you did with the remote for the telly. Or why not put the telly off and read a book or something?"
"I've read all the books in the flat, and it's bloody freezing outside." Sherlock replied, his eyes still firmly fixed on the television. Abruptly he leaned forward, staring intently at the screen, "Wait, that's not right..."
John rolled his eyes "What, are they suggesting that one plus one is two now?"
"No, John, watch..."
On the screen, the woman was tiptoeing with massive, exaggerated steps towards a small Wendy house, from inside of which a man's shoes were clearly visible.
"Can you see Jason anywhere? I think I can!" She pushed open the door and her face changed from simpering to shocked, "Jason? Are you okay?" Leaning down, she reached towards him, and touched his face. Suddenly she fell back and screamed "Oh my god! He's dead!" The screen hastily cut to a continuity trailer.
Sherlock leapt from his chair and started pacing, excited. "John, did you see that?"
John looked at Sherlock, aghast "Did I see it? Of course I saw it! Probably so did half the under fives in the country! The poor things will be scarred for life!"
Sherlock waved his hand, dismissively. "Death is a natural part of life, better they learn now than when Fluffy the hamster falls off its wheel." He stopped pacing and turned to the smaller man. "John, I need to borrow your phone."
Resignedly, John handed his phone over. "You know, one day I'm going to start charging you for use of my phone. You must cost me a fortune in text messages."
Sherlock spoke without looking up from texting, "Now now John, you know it's worth it for the excitement alone. I have to use your phone though, I don't think Lestrade's talking to me at the moment. Something to do with arranging secret meetings with psychopaths and nearly getting myself and my flatmate killed; usual nonsense."
"Can't imagine why he'd be upset over that one," John growled, "I mean, it's not like you completely overrode every piece of protocol they have, letting a career criminal get away in the process."
"John, don't be boring. We've been over this and nothing either of us say will change any of what happened. Now, are you coming to Scotland Yard?" The tall man smirked, "After all, Lestrade has invited you personally"
-o0o-
"I might have bloody guessed it was you and not Doctor Watson that texted me." Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade glared at Sherlock. "Especially considering I heard from you at about the same time as the BBC called us. Oh, and about seven hundred panicked mothers with their screaming toddlers rang 999. Keep it up and I'll think you've got MI5 on speed dial."
Sherlock smiled and raised an eyebrow at the harassed looking policeman. "Am I to assume you don't want my help with this case then?"
"Now I didn't say that, did I? But you'll have to be discreet." Lestrade ran a hand through his hair, "I think the entire world is watching us on this one. A kid's TV presenter dies during a live broadcast, and his co-presenter has a nervous breakdown when she finds the body. Not exactly 'dog bites man' is it? Come on, I'll take you over to the studio. But for god's sake, Sherlock, let me do the talking, okay?"
The traffic around Television Centre was worse than they had anticipated. In the end they were forced to park a few streets away and walk the rest of the distance, carefully avoiding the accumulation of reporters, cameramen and rubbernecking crowds. Pushing his way to the front of the crowd, DI Lestrade showed his warrant card and gestured for Sherlock and John to precede him into the building.
"Are you from the police?" A worried looking woman in a smart business suit addressed them. "I'm Cathy, the producer. There's a doctor with Jason at the moment. With his body, I mean." Her eyes glistened slightly with unshed tears. "I can't believe this has happened...Fun at Five has only been on the air a few weeks"
"And what has that to do with anything?" Sherlock stepped forward. "Would this somehow be less tragic if your show had been a long runner?"
"Well no, of course not! That's not what I...how can you say that?" She glared at Sherlock, and Lestrade gave him a warning look. "It just seems so unreal!" her voice caught on the final words of her sentence, and she brought a crumpled tissue to her face, wiping her eyes and nose. "Come with me, I'll take you to the studio."
In the studio, the paramedics were packing away their resuscitation equipment. The doctor who had come with them nodded to Lestrade. "Detective Inspector. I expect you want to know time of death and all that?" Lestrade nodded. "Looks to have been dead less than ten minutes when the body was found. Seems to be fairly consistent with drugs overdose. Not sure which ones but I'll get a full blood screen done obviously." He noticed Sherlock and John crouching by the body "Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?"
John smiled awkwardly. "We're with the DI..."
His explanation was cut short as Sherlock turned towards them with a gleam in his eye. "This man was murdered!"
-o0o-
A/N: This is my very first attempt at fanfic, so all advice/constructive criticism is appreciated. I do have a plan for how the story goes, we shall see if I can stick to it :)