Conversations with Mike (Sherlock BBC Fanfic
Set after 'Disfunctional, Exfunctional and Antifunctional'
November 27th, 19:00
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Prodigy
"Have I mentioned how much I appreciate having a flatmate?" Sherlock asked without looking up from his laptop as John placed a cup of tea beside it, as well as a couple of hobnobs. The doctor had discovered that Sherlock had a weakness for those particular biscuits - non chocolate coated though - and whenever he was trying to get his partner come spouse to eat on a case he slipped a few of them under the consulting detectives nose and let nature take its course. Sherlock hadn't said anything about it yet, so John wasn't sure if he'd even noticed. John Watson was no fool - he always waited until Sherlock was at his most distracted to slide those biscuits into range.
"Good thing you mentioned to Mike about needing one then," John replied, heading to his chair with his own cup of tea. They were currently knee deep - literally - in a forgery case, examples of the forged artworks stacked around the flat in haphazard piles.
"I did no such thing," Sherlock retorted, leaning down and fishing through a nearby stack for a particular piece of artwork. John nearly spat his tea out. He swallowed instead, feeling as if the liquid had been replaced with sand.
"What?" he asked, sounding as stunned as he felt, "You never told him you wanted a flatmate?"
"No," Sherlock muttered, "Hence I was surprised when you turned up with him."
The thin genius was not really paying attention to the conversation, which was how John knew he was telling the truth. Sherlock had learned over the last three years how to lie when he wanted to spare John's feelings... they were still battling that out ... but John knew whenever Sherlock was truly engaged in something else you could ask him any question and get the honest answer. Lestrade had yet to discover this quirk and John was of two minds about telling him - on one hand the DI would have the answers he needed without having to fake a drugs bust, on the other it seemed like a betrayal of Sherlock to give away knowledge of something John's spouse would see as a weakness.
"Then how... oh my lord..." John leaned forward, his head in his hands, "You got trapped in one of Mike's conversations and what... the conversation came around to the cost of living or something and he was on about you living in central London and how expensive the rent was and you should get a roommate... you said about the flat share thing to shut him up, didn't you?"
John gripped his head tightly, seeing the conversation as if it was being played on the telly in front of him... Their whole relationship - the working partnership, the friendship, the polygamous marriage - was based on a misunderstanding. It felt as if the world was slowly eroding all around him.
"John! John!" Sherlock's hands circled his wrists and pulled his attention back towards the thin genius, exactly where he liked it to be, "While your deductions are impressive - or would be if you didn't know the two subjects involved as well as you did - do you honestly think that I'd have let it go so far if I hadn't already been interested by you? You know me well enough now to know that would never have happened! I'd have told Stamford he was wrong if you hadn't caught my attention. You know that's true!"
John looked up at his spouse and took a deep breath. Sherlock was incapable of being polite as most people understood it. He would have shot Mike down the moment they walked into the lab if he hadn't wanted to see John again. John would never have even learned Sherlock's name, let alone his address if the other man hadn't wanted it that way. John nodded to show that he understood and Sherlock rolled his eyes, letting go of John's wrists and bussing him on the forehead, which was his way of trying to show affection and comfort to his spouse.
John let the mutter of 'crisis averted' pass without comment as Sherlock threw himself back into his chair, the laptop scooped up and brought into play once more. John leaned back and picked up the paper, unfolding it and using it as a shield for a moment while he got his breath back. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face when he heard Sherlock crunch his way through the first hobnob.
END
Disclaimer - characters and setting as depicted in the Sherlock BBC series are not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine