Title: To Us

Pairings: Watson/OC, Holmes/OC, Holmes/Watson/Friendship.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Sherlock Holmes. I do, in fact, own the plot, Jocelyn Mabel Cooper, Fern Orrick and Cecelia Roux.

Summary: Holmes and Watson figure out a case and then Watson reflects on a couple of dates he's been on. He then realizes who he really needs and has always had.

Rated: T for language and drunken people

A handsome young woman knocked on the door labeled 221B. The drizzling rain was stopping for awhile in hopes for the bright sunny sky to show through on this 3pm warm midday. But the hopes would soon be cut short. The woman was holding a white umbrella in her left hand as her right hand continued to knock.

The hems of her yellow gown were soaked with water as she had walked here. Her white gloved hands waved before her to cool herself down. Her dress was a third quarter length in the sleeves, and the neckline was circular and barely covered shoulder, it swooped down to show off her cleavage and swooped back up to cover her shoulder once again. The waistline was tight with a matching bow that sat on her bustle. The dress was a lace style with a pattern of fabric loops secured by buttons. Her stockingless feet had on a pair of white heels.

Mrs. Hudson answered the door quickly and opened up to see this lovely girl with such an intricate gown. "How can I help you, my dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I was wondering if I could speak to the Doctor an' Mister Holmes."

"Oh, right this way," Mrs. Hudson led to woman up the staircase and knocked on the door. "Watson, Holmes," she said loudly, "there's a woman here to see you." Sherlock Holmes was there in a second and opened up the door.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"You're very welcome, dear," she ducked out down the stairs.

"Hello, my dear," he smiled, "and what may I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with a case."

"Of course," he led her inside and Watson was sitting at his desk looking at something closely. "Oh Watson, my dear boy, we have another case." He looked up from his magnified glasses and looked over at the woman.

Her hair was an orangeish-pink, one of the prettiest colors they've ever seen. It was piled on top of her head in a fashionable style with loose curls that fell from the top.

"Brilliant," Watson breathed. She had rose-pink colored lips and light, sparkly blue eyes. He got up from his desk and brushed his pants lightly and walked over to join Holmes.

She took a seat on the couch and her dress fanned out in front of her.

"I'm completely zonked." She sighed and ended with a yawn. "My husband didn't have the bollocks to come himself so he sent me. What a daft man."

"What a pleasant woman," Watson whispered sarcastically to Holmes.

"What's your name, dear?" Holmes cut into, stopping her mumbled rantings.

"Jocelyn Mabel Cooper," she said proudly.

"And what's your case," Holmes asked really wanting to get to the point so that this charming young beauty would leave.

"I'm missing my watch."

"What would a fine duck like you do with something as masculine as a watch?"

"It was my father's…before he passed," she said lightly as if choosing her words carefully.

"I'm very sorry," Watson sympathized and he earned a warm smile back.

"When did you last have it?"

"Three nights ago, I left it on my nightstand and that bloody drunkard of a husband came home and snatched it up. Then next morning he came back apologizing that he didn't know where it was."

"Where do you usually find him when he's drunk?"

"One the couch but-"

"It can't be more blatant that that then, can it dear?"

"I suppose…I haven't searched there yet," she jumped up smiling. And wrapped her arms around Holmes and Watson both and embraced them strongly. "Thank you so much!"

"Our pleasure, Jocelyn," Holmes smiled and she raced out the door passing Mrs. Hudson with three cups of tea.

"Well I made her some tea," Mrs. Hudson walked him and set down the tray, "that was very quick, sirs."

"It was a very obvious case," Holmes said waving it off as if nothing had happened, "what type of tea?"

"Green, detective."

"Give me a spot of that," he said and reached out to receive the cup being passed his way.

"Dr. Watson?"

"Just hand it to Holmes," she did so and left. Holmes put the full teacup of tea on the side table. He reclined in the chair and held his tea on his lap and listened to the fire crackle. Watson continued to toy with the invention he was making, using his magnified glasses to screw in 12 little screws of which he only had 7. He flipped up the magnifiers so they were normal glasses and got up to get his tea. "Sitting there and staring at something for a long time…can really make your head wonky." He then took a sip and set it down at his table and continued to screw in the screws.

"Take a break then, my dear Watson. I don't want you to fry your brain in one sitting."

"Sherlock Holmes," he said aghast, "Caring? By God! I think there's something wrong."

"Piss off," Holmes muttered and took another sip of his drink and sighed in contentment. He looked over at Watson against and then looked at his violin which was lying next to the couch where Jocelyn had been sitting. He got up and then retrieved the violin and sat back down in his recliner. He paused and thought of a good song to start with. He blinked few times and then closed his eyes.

A sweet melody filled the room, it was slow and calm. It was drizzling again outside. This time, though, it was different. It was sunny outside and grey clouds slightly covered the pink sky indicating that it was near nighttime.

10 screws, Watson smiled towards Holmes who was humming along with his tune and swaying slowly back and forth. His mouth was loosely pressed together and he wore a small smile. Watson knew that this was one of Holmes' favorite ways to relax, and he was relaxing.

Watson was not currently in a relationship, this was a time where they were more focused on work than anything else people threw at them. Parties and dinners and fighting and dates. Watson had gone on two dates in the last months. Two dates that Holmes had figured he'd mess up because he hated those types of distractions, even though they never concerned him.

Date 1…

Watson gussied up and walked across the street and down a few homes to where a woman was getting ready in her house. He was wearing a brown bowler hat with a brown coat, navy shoes, navy trousers, dark blue suspenders and a cream colored shirt with a navy tie. He looked ravishing in his outfit and knew he couldn't go wrong.

Her name was Fern Orrick, her father was a rich banker and they all had olive colored skin and brown eyes with brown curly hair. She was a very lovely looking girl, she wore a scarlet gown and had high cheekbones and her rich brown hair was in a high updo. She was very civil and she had a lovely personality.

"Dr. Watson," she smiled as she answered the door. He dress was a long sleeved gown that sat on her shoulders in a 'U' shape and it puffed out at her slim waist and hit the ground lightly. "What a pleasure."

"I told you I'd come."

"I never doubted," he held his hand out and she took it. He pulled her out of the door slightly and kissed her hand.

"Dinner, my dear?"

"I'd love to," she then locked her door and said goodbye to her nanny and stepped in the coach that was waiting for Dr. Watson and his date. They had met each other through a case. They had to interrogate her father, who was a rich banker, because lots of his money was stolen, so they worked very closely.

"I say," She said lightly, "you are a very proper man, unlike you colleague, Detective Holmes."

"He is a little overwhelming, I'll admit, but he is a good man and means well and he is great at what he does."

"He is great at what he does, but when I met him he was a little offensive."

"He was only offensive because he knew I had feelings for you."

"You have feelings for me," she flustered and blushed, "I didn't know."

"Of course," he smiled lightly, "why ever else do you think I asked you on this outing?"

"Something you do after all cases?" Fern guessed and he shook his head.

"It's because I would love to be something more to you, my dear, something special and meaningful. Something part of your life." She blushed and smiled lightly and then he leaned forward and kissed her hand.

"My, my," she said, fanning her hand in front of her, "you do know how you flatter, Dr. Watson."

"Please," he began, "call me John."

"Then call me Fern, John."

"Alright." Then the hansom halted and the driver hopped out of his seat and went around to open the door. Watson got out first and helped out his date. She then linked his arm through his and he led them up the staircase and into the restaurant where they got in right away because of the reservations he made. He pulled out her chair and she sat down and then he sat down across from her. The dinner was candle lit and there were two glasses and a bottle of wine. The waiter came around quickly and he poured then their wine and then they ordered their main course.

"This is lovely, John, I have never been so relaxed."

"Cheers," he said and their glasses clinked, "to us," he smiled.

"Something worth celebrating," she added and then they took a sip of their drinks and let it sink in.

Within five seconds after that there was a loud thump on the hardwood floor and then there was a third chair added to their table. Fern jumped and almost spilled the red wine on her scarlet dress. She looked very frightened and then looked at Watson who was staring at the intruder with daggers.

"Pardon," he said, he was drunk. "I was wondr'n if we could join y'." John looked like he could strangle the man. The man was none other than Sherlock Holmes. There was a blonde lady, equally drunk, hanging onto him and falling out of her dress. "That quite alright, Dr. Watson?"

"Docta'," she hollered and looked at Watson. The blonde lady practically fell onto Watson's lap. She didn't have a British accent. It sounded Southern American, "Well ain't that just the bee knees. I'm Marybell Abney," she wore a pink frilly dress, her hair was big, she had bright blue eyes that were glassy and foggy with the alcohol. She wore tons of make-up making her blue eye shadow and bright red lips look fake and cakey. She had giant breasts and a small waist. Her dress was plaid, tight around the waist and puffy under the waist and she wore high white heals. "I'm a vacationer from America. Pa said that he would buy me anything I wan' when I goes back home, hear that, Sherlock-y, imma be my own woman. Who are you, sweet cheeks?"

Fern looked simply horrified and she slowly scooted away from those people giving John a scared look, she received a remorseful look back. "Fern Orrick," she said smally.

"Fern," Holmes burst out and Marybell joined along with the laughter. Fern's face heated up. "What type of name is that? Was your momma a bush?" Marybell and Sherlock hollered obnoxiously. The whole restaurant was now quiet and they were watching this. Fern was looking down, her face bright red and Watson was trying to shut the intruders up. After some more crude jokes about her name she stood up and walked over to Sherlock.

"You plastered bum," she shouted and slapped Sherlock across the face. He recoiled harshly and fell off his chair grabbing his cheek. Marybell shrieked and went to his rescue. Fern looked up, her eyes red.

"And you," she pointed at Watson, "you had the decency to invite this man?"

"Fern, I didn't-"

"I never want to see you again." She then grabbed her purse and marched away from the table wearing a grimace on her face. Watson put his head in his hands and groaned. Marybell was waving a napkin over his face.

"Help," she called.

"You're paying," he whispered and chucked his napkin on the table and walked out of the restaurant avoiding peoples' glares and pity. He ducked out of the restaurant and limped home because he had a cane and he wanted to be punished for his indecency, even though it wasn't his fault.

The next morning…

"Get up," Watson bellowed, "get the fuck up you lazy bum." Holmes was lying naked, a thin silk blanket was covering his bits and he was all sprawled out on the bed.

"Na…a…" he said and covered his face with a pillow.

"Fine," Watson scowled and walked over to the window. Holmes' eyes shot open.

"Please easy-" Watson ripped the drapes open and he shrieked like Marybell had the previous night, "Nah…"he groaned. Watson ripped the pillow from his face and turned on the light. Holmes hissed and then Watson lifted up a bucket of water and poured it all over his workmate. It was ice cold as well; it was rain water from the previous night. "ARRRGGG!" he yelled.

"You deserved everything you got," he then stomped away and slammed the door behind him. He felt very satisfied when he leaned against Holmes door, hearing obscene language from the sleuth inside. He then walked down the staircase and went into the kitchen for some breakfast.

Date 2:

Cecelia Roux was a French girl with white blonde hair. She had grey eyes and she was super thin and short. The afternoon Watson came to pick her up she was wearing a dazzling orangeish red gown with a ruffled bodice and a straight skirt which accented her thin curves.

"John Watson," her voice was thick with her French accent. John smiled and she walked down her stoop with her dress held in one hand so she wouldn't trip. When she reached the bottom John took her free hand and kissed it. This was his most recent date and she lived in a very fancy house. The hansom was waiting in the street.

"Shall we, my lady," he asked.

"We shall," she followed and then he led her onto the hansom and closed the door behind them. They were attending a case banquet. This was significant because this was thrown together by the Prime Minister of England. Holmes and Watson successfully figured out the case for the Prime Minister when his daughter went missing. Cecelia is the daughter of the Prime Minister's first assistant and latched onto Watson immediately when he asked her to attend the banquet with him. She is a very polite and civil girl, just like Fern.

The ride was pretty short. They chatted about the weather and interests and then they arrived at the banquet and she hooked her arm through his and they headed through the doors of the hall. It was very crowded; everyone who was anyone was there.

"I'm simply chuffed," she gasped at the beautiful decorations.

"I'm happy," he said and they made there way into the middle of all of the waltzers and joined in. She was very light on her feet and he stayed off of his leg as much as possible. She noticed midway through the second song that he was in pain and she told him they could stop.

They sat at a table and enjoyed the complimentary wine. The Prime Minister shook Watson's hand many times. He was a little tipsy. His daughter was smiling too and kissed him on the cheek and then gave Cecelia a big hug. His daughter dashed away to find her date and the Prime Minister went off his wife.

"You are popular," she said and took a sip from her wine.

"I fancy I am," he said with a smug smile. "I wonder when Sherlock was supposed to arrive."

"Late as usual," she said catching onto his normal ways. "It's not surprising, is it, John?"

"Not at all." And then he looked into the crowd where Sherlock was holding onto the American female. He looked drunk and so did she. But she seemed to always be drunk.

"John, old boy," he shouted across the room. He dragged his date with him who was wearing an even more showing dress the color of baby blue.

"Oh my," Cecelia gasped, "who is that girl with him? She's practically falling out of her dress! That is scandalous!" John grabbed her hand and pat it lovingly, she smiled at him and then they were intruded by the drunkards.

"Crikey," Holmes said in mock-surprise looking at Cecelia. "She doesn't have any knockers!" Cecelia's face flushed. She was wearing a ruffled dress and made her look like she had a flat chest when she really didn't.

"John," she gasped and then stood up to go stand next to him. She held onto his shoulders and Holmes took her seat. He pulled Marybell onto his lap and kissed her neck.

"My word," Cecelia gasped at this profanity.

"Jus' jeal'us," Holmes hiccupped and Cecelia's pretty face fell into a frown. She wasn't jealous she was angry that she was talking to these people. "Nice pick, Watson, at least she doesn't have a name like Fern." Sarcasm dripped from his words, "and when she's calling out to you in the bedroom, it's in French so it's way sexier." Marybell whooped and hiccupped. Cecelia squeezed Watson's shoulders and then grimaced.

"John," she said warningly.

"Sherlock," Watson yelled. "Enough! Stop trying to ruin my relationships." Watson then got up and dragged his date with him. He walked over to the Prime Minister and thanked him for the invitation. He shook Cecelia and Watson's hand and then the two left. Cecelia led the way and then they went on a walk.

"I'm sorry, about him."

"You don't have to be sorry," she assured, "I wasn't your fault, it was that wanker of a friend of yours. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I know," he said and stopped her, he took her hand. "I'm just really sorry." She gave him a soft smile and leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"I had a great time, John." He nodded, "how about you take me home." He nodded again and then he dropped her off and went home himself.

The next day…

John Watson woke up and hustled around his room. He then slammed Holmes' door open and a lamp shook and fell off of his table.

"Sherlock," he shouted. But Sherlock had company. Marybell was in bed with him, they were both undressed and asleep. Sherlock woke up and then covered up the girl in his bed. Watson then pulled out the bucket of water.

"No, please!" he pled but Watson walked over and dumped the icy water on them. Marybell shrieked as she woke up with a start. Her make-up dripped down her face and her curly blonde hair fell unpleasantly over her head.

"What in bloody hell," she hollered and then tore the blanket from Sherlock and got up. She sprinted out of the room with her clothes shouting that she never wanted to see Sherlock again. Watson chucked a pillow at Sherlock so he would cover up.

"That's for Fern and Cecelia." He then sauntered out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Normal time…

Sherlock was still playing his violin when the invention was finally finished. He took off his glasses and then picked up his cane and walked over to Holmes with the invention.

It was a machine that can make something really hot really quickly. He quickly looked at his diagrams and then pointed the machine at Holmes' violin.

"What are you doing?"

"Testing," he replied. He then pressed the button and a wave of hot air attacked the violin and 8 seconds later Sherlock dropped his violin and 2 seconds later and it started on fire.

"Watson," he shouted and looked at his burning violin, "what have you done?"

"That's not your real violin," he said and Sherlock smirked.

"Your right," he said, "I stole that one."

"Have fun getting it back."

"Who said anything about giving I back, old boy? No…I was planning on giving it to you so I could give you some lessons, but here we are. It's burned to a crisp. Jolly good," he clapped his hands together and got up, "I'm happy we could spend this time together. Want to get some dinner? I know this great restaurant. It's the one I paid for when you took Fern out."

Watson thought about this for awhile and then shrugged. He hadn't seen Cecelia for awhile. She was moving back to France and was really upset to leave Watson, he was upset too because he really believed that she was the one. But besides that, he always had Sherlock Holmes. He always could count on him even if he didn't want him, like when he ruined those dates of his. So they walked out of the town house and hailed a hansom and went to the restaurant and enjoyed a dinner.

"To us," Holmes said and lifted up his glass of red wine.

"Cheers," Watson said back.

Clink.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed. Comments are welcome! It was just a twist on Holmes and Watson's relationship and how they deal with problems and situations. I hope you all enjoyed, it was fun to write!