Author's Note: Fem! Sherlock is a blast to write so here comes another one. I am doing the TV series as fem! Sherlock but I'm changing things up a bit. I do not own anything. I'm starting with the great game because it's my favorite. Here we go!
1. Gas Explosions
"Look at it Mrs. Hudson. Calm quiet peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" Sherlock grumbled as she watched John leave. Mrs. Hudson watched her sympathetically from the doorway, Sherlock might be the smartest person alive but she was rubbish with feelings.
"Something will turn up soon, a nice murder, that'll cheer you up Sherlock." It was then she noticed the state of her wall.
"What have you done to my bloody wall!? This is coming out of your rent young lady!" Sherlock smiled and turned away from the window. Wandering through the sitting room towards her violin she paused hands on hips. She felt something change in the air right before the world behind her exploded.
On her way to the ground she realized several things. The explosion was localized, across the street in the empty flats, so there should be no or at least few casualties. The windows had blown in on either side of her, glass stinging her arms through her robe. Mrs. Hudson was on the stairs and would be out of shrapnel range. She however would have scratches all up her arms and a few on her back and legs as well. A split second of mathematical calculation told her she would come down hard laying flat on her front but not before her head met the coffee table with quite a bit of force. The injury would be minimal at best, a large bruise, and a cut where the corner met her head and a minute concussion. But that was as far as she got before the inevitable thump spike of pain and following blackness.
Mrs. Hudson froze on the stairs as the building shook and the sound of shattering glass met her ears nearly instantly followed by a loud thump and a groan of pain. As fast as her bad hip would carry her she raced up the stairs and gasped aloud at what she saw. Sherlock was laid out flat on the floor, around her shattered glass sparkled in the light from the fire across the street. Sherlock was bleeding from a small gash on the right side of her forehead around which a large bruise was forming. Mrs. Hudson was about to call out for John when she remembered that he wasn't home. She looked around and on instinct snatched up Sherlock's mobile. She quickly scanned through Sherlock's contacts and clicked on one that looked like the best idea.
"Sherlock, not now. I don't have a case for you and there's just been an explosion in central London my higher ups are going mad as it is." The voice that interrupted him was not the one he expected. First off whoever it was, was crying.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you detective inspector Lestrade but this is Sherlock's landlady Mrs. Hudson. It's Sherlock, she... she's hurt. There was an explosion across the street and Sherlock was in the sitting room when the windows blew in. She's bleeding. I don't know what to do." Lestrade swore under his breath and snatched up his coat.
"I'm on my way. Where's John?" Mrs. Hudson sniffed.
"He and Sherlock had an argument, he went out I don't know where."
"Right, I'm on my way now. Here's what I need you to do Mrs. Hudson. Take a deep breath, find a clean rag and try to stop the bleeding. Be careful of the glass; don't want you getting hurt as well."
"Alright. Thank you detective inspector." She hung up. Lestrade made it to Baker Street in record time, ducking under the police line he flashed his badge at the men he knew from the yard and quick stepped over to one of them. He explained why he was here as quickly as possible and she, a one detective Clara Oswin, nodded at him.
"Go ahead Greg, there's not much we can do here till the fires out anyway." He nodded his thanks and knocked on the door of 221 Baker Street. A few anxious minutes later the door was opened by the little old lady who rented Sherlock and John's flat to them. She was sniffling.
"She's upstairs." He nodded and raced up the stairs. Glass crunched under his shoes as he rushed across the living room and eased Sherlock into a sitting position. She was out cold with quite the goose egg on the right side of her forehead. The cut there was bleeding lightly but didn't seem to be anything to serious though it was rather deep. She had some very minor cuts on her back and a few long scratches on her arms a medium sized piece of glass was caught near her left shoulder and Lestrade gently picked her up and laid her down on her stomach on the miraculously glass free couch.
"Mrs. Hudson I'll need a towel and some bandages. And maybe a bin if you've got one." She nodded and rushed about. When he had what he needed he handed his mobile to Mrs. Hudson.
"In my contacts find Kelly McAllen. She's a paramedic, she owes me a favor. Call her tell her what happened. She'll get here pretty quick." As she made the call he carefully pulled out the shard of glass out of Sherlock's shoulder and began to wrap her shoulder in a temporary bandage. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke.
"You're doing that wrong you know."
"Jesus Christ Sherlock! Don't scare me like that!" She laughed and only a little of the pain she was in showed through on her face as she turned to look at him.
"What are you doing here detective inspector?" He frowned.
"Why don't you work it out Sher?" She looked him over once.
"Well judging by your actions and the glass on your shoes you arrived shortly after the explosion, before anyone had a chance to clear up. You're on the homicide team at Scotland Yard so you aren't here to investigate said explosion. So someone called you. John's not home, so it had to have been Mrs. Hudson. She could have called the yard itself to report the explosion, but as I'm not sitting in an ambulance at the moment surrounded by incompetent news reporters all clamoring to know what happened it's unlikely. More likely she came upstairs to check on me and found me on the floor. My phone was sitting on the small table near the door and so would have been closer than the landline, either in the kitchen or Mrs. Hudson's flat. She'd have grabbed it and looked for someone to call. Seeing as you are listed under DI Lestrade in my contacts she would have instantly associated you with the yard and thus someone who could be trusted in a situation like this, and no I haven't got a nasty concussion. I am a bit dizzy though." Lestrade nodded and helped her down to the ambulance. She didn't protest too heavily which worried him. She wobbled and he caught her as she fell. Mrs. Hudson gasped.
John groaned rubbing his neck. Sarah grinned and flicked on the TV.
"Told you, you should have slept on the lilo." He shook his head.
"No I'm fine. I slept alright. My phone seems to have died though. Lucky, Sherlock's probably been texting all night." Sarah's smile slipped slightly.
"Oh well maybe next time I'll let you kip on the end of my bed." John glanced up at her.
"And the time after that?" She grinned slightly then stood.
"How about some breakfast?"
"That'd be lovely thanks." Her grin widened.
"Well you'll have to make it yourself. I'm going to have a shower." She sauntered out of the room and john stared after her for a moment until a movement on the telly caught his eye. He quickly cranked the volume.
'There's been a massive explosion in central London. Reports have stated that there are no confirmed deaths but at least three people are in the hospital this morning.' John recognized the street instantly he snatched up his coat and called out to Sarah.
"I'm sorry Sarah I've got to go!" She stepped out of the shower as she heard the door slam closed. John practically vaulted out of the taxi. After quickly paying the driver and ducking under the police line explaining that he lived in the apartment right across from the explosion. He rushed up the stairs and banged into the flat. He froze in the doorway.
"Morning John." Sherlock didn't even look up instead twanging one of the strings on her violin. He looked her over and felt guilty, very guilty. Above Sherlock's right eye was a large dark bruise. Inside the bruise was a cut that had at least three stitches in it. Sherlock's button up shirt was open a few more buttons than normal revealing the edge of a clean white bandage that seemed to cover her left shoulder, along with quite a bit of cleavage and the edge of her black subtlety lacy bra. She continued watching the seat across from her. John glanced at it and found her older brother Mycroft sitting across from her, his umbrella in hand. He smiled tightly at John.
"Doctor." Sherlock glanced at him before her eyes zeroed back in on her brother.
"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"
"Sofa Sherlock, it was the sofa." She looked back at him and hummed in reluctant agreement.
"How... never mind. What happened?" Sherlock glanced over her shoulder at the still empty holes where the windows had been the day before.
"Oh gas explosion, apparently." Then she turned back to her brother.
"I can't. Stuff I've got on right now is just too big. Besides if you're so interested, go and investigate yourself." Mycroft shook his head.
"I couldn't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so close..." John raised an eyebrow at him while Sherlock ignored both of them and began to tune her violin. Mycroft smiled thinly.
"Ah well you don't need to know about that. Besides a case like this requires leg work. Doctor Watson, perhaps you can make my sister see sense. I'm afraid she can be very intransigent." Mycroft stood and Sherlock, who had been polishing her bow, pointed it at him like a weapon. He glared at her and walked over to John handing him a file as he explained the case of the missing missile plans, and the man Andrew West who had been found with his head smashed in on the train tracks. Mycroft then left, Sherlock playing him out to a grating out of tune March. John sighed and sat down as Sherlock retuned her violin.
"Why did you lie? You've got nothing on that's why the wall took a pounding." She looked up at him and hummed noncommittally.
"Why shouldn't I?" John looked at her a bit closer and wondered if she'd actually been to the hospital. Whoever did her stitches wasn't very good. They were uneven and awkwardly spaced.
"Ah sibling rivalry, now we're getting somewhere." Her phone rang.