The young woman walked across Regents Park towards him, he had of course been expecting her, but she wasn't what he'd been expecting. She was tall and thin, skeletally thin, but with a perfect moon shaped face. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and she was wearing a high collared purple kimono shirt and tight black trousers. Her knee length leather boots topping off her distinctive look, as she walked towards the terrified lad. Her gait was slightly left heavy as she was wearing the uncomfortable weight of a hip holster under her silk shirt, and he watched her fascinated.
Andrew she didn't query, just used his name as a greeting, and then shook his hand in a manly fashion there is a small café we are going to, she pointed to The Honest Sausage behind her. You will sit outside, on the table closest to the A-Board, and I will join you there. Andrew looked at her, nodded and went and sat at the table. The strange woman went inside, bought 2 bacon sandwiches and 2 coffees and came and joined him. My boss is very pleased with you Andrew, very pleased in deed. She smiled broadly showing a full set of perfect white teeth, which for a moment reminded him of a shark. We will of course expect to see you tomorrow morning at the office, she gave him a small whitebusiness card, if you need anything before then phone this number. Congratulations Andrew you've just joined the country's biggest boys clubs. With this she abruptly got up, and walked into the café, leaving Andrew alone with his thoughts.
When she went through the kitchen of the café she immediately pulled her hair out of the bun, releasing her shoulder length blonde hair. She took off the silk purple shirt revealing a tight black T-shirt, as she collected her rucksack from the girl doing the washing up, she stuffed her boots inside, and slipped on the trainers from the bag. Within seconds she was a completely different woman, a casual park runner, out on a sunny afternoon, as she jogged passed, even Andrew didn't notice her. Someone however did see her, someone who was walking home through the park, and looking specifically for her. As she crossed the inner circle towards York Bridge he stepped in front of her, and grabbed her wrists. She fought for a second before she looked up at the sound of his voice.
Lucy his deep voice growled with desire for a second, before he kissed her. She in turned melted into his kiss. Will you come home with me?
John? She asked confused for a second did he ask you to find me?
No Dr Watson told her but he understood why I had to.
When they returned to Baker Street, John announced their presence to Sherlock who had apparently not moved since John had left the flat several hours earlier. He looked up and smiled at his wife,
I know the boys are staying with Mummy, so I asked John if he wanted to go and get you, he was unnervingly keen. Lucy smiled as her husband as he said this, looking between him and his lover. It was nearly a year since the birth of her second son, but the flat hadn't changed at all. All mess and experiments, she had missed it but had to admit her own clean tidy Kensington house was a better place to raise her children.
What do you want from me? She asked, giggling in a slightly nervous fashion, however she stopped laughing when John put his arms around her, and kissed her neck.
Only if you want to? He whispered in her ear, she turned to him, nodded and wrapped her arms around him tightly. John lifted her into his arms, and witha nod and smile to his Sherlock, took his lover's wife upstairs to bed.
John had never had a gay relationship before Sherlock, in fact he didn't like to think of it as that, sex with Sherlock wasn't like with other people. John was heterosexual all the way, and Sherlock was in a class of his own. However he wasn't an unfaithful man, he would be loyal and faithful to Sherlock for as long as he wanted him, forever hopefully. He just wasn't a woman, and that's what John had increasingly wanted, a woman's body. He wouldn't have said anything, but Sherlock was a deductive genius and had worked it out rather embarrassingly quickly. Sherlock had brought up Lucy, after he had caught John lusting over poor Molly at St Barts morgue. In Sherlock's mind there was nothing wrong in John borrowing his wife to fulfill his lust. It seemed logical that his ever-faithful wife would happily sleep with John as a favour to him. John had doubted this, right up to this afternoon, when he had the strangest conversation of his life:
Mummy has asked Lucy to send the boys to her for the last fortnight of Simon's school holidays. Sherlock had announced that morning, So Lucy is staying in town for the next couple of weeks. John assumed Sherlock was going to go round out of some strange parody of marital duty, and didn't think anything of it. It was few hours later when it registered with John that Sherlock was still in the flat. If you want to go and get her, she's in Regents Park this afternoon, he'd said in a matter of fact tone. It had occurred to John immediately whom Sherlock was speaking of.
She's your wife, why don't you pick her up? He's snapped irritably.
Because John, Sherlock had used his patient, I'm talking to the police voice, I'm not the one who wants to jump her bones!
Sherlock had explained his plan, John could go and get Lucy, bring her back to the flat then John could have sex with her, and he'd be happier with Sherlock. Sherlock explained that Lucy thought along similar lines to Sherlock and would do anything for John. He felt it was logical that John got to have Lucy rather than be frustrated. John had tried to argue, tried to explain that Lucy would have normal feelings and would not appreciate being used like this, but in the end Sherlock had said,
I give you full permission to seduce my wife!
And he'd run out of the flat to look for Lucy.
He wouldn't let her strip, looking at her as he lay her out on his bed; he realized what Sherlock had done to her. She'd willingly come to his bed, she'd willingly agreed to have sex with him, but she didn't expect any pleasure for herself. She had immediately started taking her clothes off, concentrating on that simple act rather than on him. He had stopped her, and taken her into his arms. He had kissed her chastely, like the first night they'd ever spent together. He'd told her that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to, and she'd giggled.
I didn't expect you to rape me John? She'd said
Oh Lucy, I want you, you really should know that, but not like him. I want you to enjoy this, Oh God… He kissed her again slightly rougher and she immediately responded, lying back on the bed allowing him to do whatever he wanted to her. He looked hurt, and she didn't know why, she put his hand to her hard nipples, and gave him a questioning look.
Lucy do you remember your first time? She shook her head, sadly, and John made a decision. He went to the bedroom door, and locked it. He took her hand, and lifted her gently off the bed; he kissed her lightly and then started running his hands slowly over her back. Tonight sweetheart he whispered into her trembling ear, it will just be you and I.
Whatever Sherlock had thought was going to happen, and whether John had surprised him or not Sherlock was not there when they woke up. Sherlock was demanding and selfish, and sometimes rather brutal in bed, John had missed the pliant warmth of Lucy in the months since she'd returned to her own home. He'd also missed the gentle heat of a woman's body, after the hot fire of Sherlock. It had been a gentle loving night, Lucy had opened up to him, he knew he had been the first person to give her an orgasm months ago, now he had repeated that feat. She had giggled, and sobbed and clung to him and for hours they had made love. John let her explore every inch of him, let her do anything she wished, never pulled away. She was too used to Sherlock; John had spent all night softly and slowly explaining that sex didn't have to be like that. Since Sherlock saw her as a toy to be put down and leant, John thought he would teach her all the things a caring lover would have taught her, nearly ten years previously. He had woken with her in his arms, went to get her a cup of tea, realized Sherlock had gone out, and then found the note.
John,
Lestrade has a case for us, Regents Park, please come when you wake up. I think I'll need Lucy.
Sherlock
John woke her up with a gentle kiss, and she moaned happily. He gave her a cup of tea, and while she drank it he played with her hair. He explained Sherlock's note and her eyes lit up. John realized of course like all women in abusive relationships, in fact like he himself; she adored the dominant male. Whatever John did, however he tried, she would only really have eyes for Sherlock Holmes.
When they arrived at the crime scene, Donovan was her normal spiteful self, telling Lestrade that the freaks little friends had come to play. Lucy had surprised John by insisting on being armed at the crime scene. Something she had never done, John didn't even know she owned a gun. The number of crime scenes John had been on, he'd seen nobody not even as Sherlock act as naturally as Lucy did that morning. She strode past an amused Lestrade, looked down at the body and before Sherlock could start his deductions she bent down and kissed him on the lips. He looked up at her with an odd smile, she winked and then to everyone's surprised started talking.
The vic's name is Andrew James Maddox; he was 23 years old, born in Canterbury. He graduated from LSE in June with an MSc in Political Science. He has no family bar an elderly maiden aunt in a nursing home in St Neots. He has rooms in a flat in Battersea, but no girlfriend. The attitude of the body and the head wound I would suggest he was shot about 5pm-yesterday afternoon, he was executed professionally told to kneel and shot at point blank range, back of the head with a 9mm Browning High Powered. If you would like to reach in his jacket pocket, Sherlock you will find a business card. DI Lestrade, you will need to inform your superiors, because as my husband is about to show you Mr Maddox was recruited yesterday for MI6.
Everyone looked at her; Lestrade opened his mouth, and asked if she was going to explain.
Oh did I not mention Inspector? I was the one who recruited him, I'd put myself forward for questioning, but Dr Watson can give me a very good alibi.
She stalked away from the scene with John and Sherlock following in her wake, When they got out of site of the police she stopped walking and waited for Sherlock. He grabbed her by the throat and before John could stop him had pushed her against a tree. She smiled down at him with no concern.
Why the hell didn't you tell me you were working for Mycroft? He spat cattily,
You do! And he pays well! She shouted back Why can't I? Or are you jealous?
I don't get jealous! He shouted back
Yes, little brother you do! The slow drawl from behind them however I would suggest we continue this discussion in private, as I really do need to speak to the three of you. He gestured to his large black Mercedes, and unusually Lucy, Sherlock and John followed him in complete silence.
As they got in the car, Sherlock and Lucy started bickering again. John, not Anthea and Mycroft just stared clearly not really able to rationalize what they should be doing to stop Mr and Mrs Holmes's fight. Finally Mycroft coughed and asked John to slide between his lovers, in a desperate attempt to stop them.
Okay then, what about the cipher? Mycroft asked, the weariness of the last few minutes etched into his voice.
What cipher? John and Lucy asked at once. Sherlock shifted and handed Lucy his I-phone, on the screen was a picture of the wall behind the victim a series of square boxes and slashes had been made in the wall with a sharp implement. Lucy's eyes lit up, and she demanded a pen and some paper. Sherlock, John and Anthea looked at her like she had 3 heads, and after an embarrassed silence, Mycroft huffed and presented her with his notebook and pen. She started scribbling, interposing every few moments with 'brilliant' and 'interesting' finally John said:
Okay I give up what's she doing?
Breaking the cipher, John! Sherlock interjected using his stupid police voice
Surely that's impossible? People can't just break a cipher, not with a pen and paper!
I can! Lucy shouted in triumph, then she looked at the paper again. Oh, oh right. John can you read Alliterated Arabic?
Erm? I don't know, I can read a lot of Basic Arabic, and pastiche. He said unsure, she looked at him, and as she did used her left hand to write a series of phrases in what he recognized as Basic Arabic. When she had finished she ripped the back 3 pages she'd been playing with out of Mycroft's notebook, and passed them to John.
I can translate them if you need, but as Sherlock and I speak very good Arabic, and I assume you can I felt it might be easier to leave them as they are. Mycroft you understand can't read any of the dialects. Lucy leant on his arm as he read the little note she'd given him, and as they read it Sherlock grabbed Johns hand tightly.
Probably best if we don't tell the police about this, yet. John muttered.
Captain Watson is a killer,
His friends are all killers,
We will kill the Doctor,
Then we will kill his friends.
Mycroft had dropped them back at Baker Street, having threatened them into finally showing him what was written on the walls. He had agreed to increase security on Harry, and Mrs Hudson, of course the boys were safe with Mummy Holmes. When they went upstairs, Sherlock locked and bolted the door, and then he turned to the other two.
I'm going to ask this just once, how many weapons do you have between you?
Half an hour later John was staring disbelieving at the arsenal lying on their sofa. When he left the house this morning he was aware Lucy had a Browning that matched his. He was also vaguely aware that Sherlock had a revolver. After Dunblane that was already three more handguns than was strictly legal. However what he hadn't expected was how many more illegal weapons Sherlock had stashed about the flat. It had started with Lucy revealing the Browning, and John placing his next to hers. She had then rummaged in her rucksack and found a .32 ACP, and dragged a KGB Standard Butterfly Knife from the lining of her knee length boot. John had taken his SIW in the confusion surrounding his discharge. He'd initially taken it in a suicide bid, but since then it had been of definite use during his cases with Sherlock. He'd known that Sherlock had a revolver since the fateful morning, Sherlock had shot their television with it. What he didn't know was that he'd obviously been requisitioning murder weapons from crime scenes for some time. There were boxes of knives, and ligatures, odd little handguns, and what looked to John like an assassin's sword.
So are we going to war then? Lucy drawled effecting a bored voice that even Sherlock would be proud of.
Don't be so pedestrian Lucy, but John's been threatened and I think we should try our best to protect him, don't you?
John had been interrogated by them for hours, who might try to kill him, what had he done in Afghanistan, who might have been following him. He was tired, and angry and worried about the answers he'd given. Sherlock the deductive genius would know if he lied, and deduced any answers John wouldn't give him. Lucy, he was discovering, could be just as vicious as Sherlock. When talking hadn't got them anywhere they had decided to interrogate him. John had fought them, laughed at first, and so in a worrying turn Sherlock asked Lucy to demonstrate what she had learnt from 'the gentleman in the Ardoyne, who had taken such a shine to her'. John had been taught E&E, he had been through interrogation avoidance, somehow that didn't seem to be relevant when your lovers have trussed you up and are asking the same questions repeatedly in increasingly nasty ways.
John learnt that night that as delicate and as sweet as Lucy portrayed herself to be she was capable of rather worrying flashes of pure evil intent. Sherlock learnt that John unlike himself and Lucy had never been tortured, and Lucy learnt a series of pressure points that had very different responses on Johns body to that of her usual victim, Sherlock. Towards midnight, when John was starting to get delirious, his lips chaffed and his voice cracked. He finally gave Sherlock something to work on, Lucy had been sitting on Johns feet, numbing them then slowly pulling his toes out of joint, then letting the blood flow back, and realigning them. The pain was exquisite, the muscle damage would be negligible, and any residual pain short lived. She had dislocated the second toe on his right foot singing the little piggy song, when John suddenly started speaking.
I hate that bloody song you know? Lance Corporal James Dobbs, he kept….moaning it, he'd been caught by an IED, lost his right leg but wouldn't stop singing that bloody song. I sent him out as soon as I could too soon probably, died of septicemia sadly. He stopped talking as Lucy injected his foot with a mild sedative, she was smiling widely her sharks grin, and as she carefully reset his toes, Sherlock started to untie him, placing small kisses over his naked body.
John fell unconscious during the careful ministrations of his lovers, between them they cleaned and dried him, wrapped him in warm blankets, and attended their inflicted wounds. As they finished Sherlock pulled the duvet over John, and planted quick kisses on his forehead. He grabbed, Lucy by the wrist and dragged her downstairs;
Are we going to start looking for James Dobbs brother? She asked her husband as he pulled her across the living room.
In a while, yes, but first He spun her round and smirking grabbed her from behind your going to pay for what you've just done to John.
When John woke up he was stiff and dazed, he was dreadfully thirsty and as he looked round, saw a 2ltr bottle of Tesco value water and 2 glasses. There was a note attached to the bottle and as Johns eyes adjusted to read it he let out a groan.
John,
I've gone to Scotland Yard, drink and eat something and you'll feel better. Come and meet me when you have.
Sherlock
p.s. Lucy is in the living room, she will need some painkillers and water.
She was lying on her side, bound and gagged. She looked so helpless again, that John nearly forgot all she'd done to him the night before. As John sat her up and untied her, he balked slightly at the dark bruises across her face, and body. She smiled at him, and kissed him on the lips, which shocked him somewhat. He gave her a glass of water and some painkillers from his medical bag. She was having trouble getting dressed, so John helped her, spotting the welts across her back and legs, and the deep purple bruise of a broken rib. She'd giggled when he'd started examining her carefully, and kissed him again.
Apparently I was too rough with you! She explained still giggling
Sherlock did this to you? John asked.
Well yes, but it really was rather gentle considering how evil I was to you. She was now carefully dressed in a loose skirt, she found in Sherlock's wardrobe and one of Sherlock's nicer shirts. She wore her knee length boots, and replaced the knife, taking the ACP and securing it to her inside thigh. John picked up his Browning and they took a cab to New Scotland Yard.
Their appearance caused a bit of a stir, Lestrade had left instruction for them to be brought to his office, but hadn't been expecting them to turn up looking like victims themselves. He stood when Lucy walked into his office, and as Sherlock barely looked up he asked,
What the hell happened to you two?
Foreplay! Sherlock told him, causing Lestrade to shake his head in disgust.
Do you know I should really arrest all of you, this is ridiculous, you can't keep coming in here looking like this, and can't you at least be subtle? Lestrade started remonstrating.
James Dobbs brother had been in Afghanistan, but had been there as a civilian working for BlackWater Security. His passport had been used 2 years previously to re-enter the UK, but not used since. Lestrade had organized an APV on John Dobbs, but wasn't confident. It wasn't until he'd got himself a copy of John Dobbs passport photo that anything in Sherlock's mind had happened. Lucy had started choking, she had grabbed her throat, where John and Sherlock both knew she had a bruised trachea. John had immediately started to examine her throat, but Sherlock knew better, he'd strangled his wife more than once, and knew she wasn't badly hurt, deducing she was making an excuse to leave.
Oh for fucks sake! Lestrade shouted, Should I get an ambulance?
That shouldn't be necessary, my brother will pick us up now. Sherlock announces, texting with one hand, and dragging Lucy out with the other, the protestations of John floating through the police station.
When they get downstairs, he roughly shoves her into the waiting black Mercedes. The choking stops immediately, and as they snigger, John and Mycroft give each other confused looks.
You three do remember that I have surveillance on your flat don't you? Mycroft asked in his usual tired drawl, I do not appreciate being woken to look at the updated highlights of the big brother torture chamber. He rubbed the bridge of his nose; I am particularly disturbed and am considering a period of enforced separation, for your own goods. Now as Lucille isn't actually choking I assume you have a break in the case you don't want the police to see.
The suspect is one of us, Lucy stated simply, he's in Mycroft's employ. In fact he picked me up from York Terrace just last week.
Four pairs of eyes turned to look at her, 'Not' Anthea even stopped playing with her Blackberry. Lucy snatched the picture of John Dobbs from Sherlock's hands and gave it to her brother in law.
He apparently thinks John is responsible for his brother's death, I suspect he's been following us for a while. Sherlock explained. Then he squeezed John's knee, and put his head on his shoulder. You did very well, considering Lucy is very good at torture, he whispered.
John blushed, and started telling Mycroft about Lance Corporal Dobbs.
Mycroft had agreed to keep them updated on the search for John Dobbs, but as Sherlock and Lucy confidently told John, they wouldn't find him. If John Dobbs wanted to kill John Watson, there was little the Police or Security Services could do about it. In fact they were convinced that the only way for John to survive, was for one of them to kill Dobbs first. This didn't comfort John Watson at all. He decided he would go to bed, nap over the afternoon and leave the frankly deranged couple to their plotting.
It was 3am when Lucy started screaming, John lying in bed next to her sat up with a start. She was sobbing and pleading about the invisible mice that were crawling over skin. As he hugged her trying to soothe her he started looking around for Sherlock. He was nowhere around, and she was now struggling alarmingly.
Sherlock! John started screaming, as Lucy started hitting him. John grabbed her wrists, and realized she wasn't with him. Her eyes were glazed and with a horrid realization, John suddenly knew what was wrong with her.
Sherlock! He shouted again, looking round for his phone, panic rising, Oh Lucy what the fuck have you taken! He shouted shaking her, as the terrifying thoughts of bad trip and overdose danced in his head.
She had calmed down somewhat sobbing in an uncontrolled way, but no longer writhing, he knew she suffered from anemia and the way her heart rate was slowing was worrying him more than anything else was. He decided to pick her up, and walk downstairs, his phone would be there and he could get an ambulance, assuming Mycroft's surveillance hadn't already sent for one. When he walked into the living room though, the first thing he saw was Sherlock, unconscious lying on the floor, blood pooling from a nasty gash on his forehead, the next thing he saw was John Dobbs.
Captain Watson, how nice to finally meet you, and your..erm…family, tell me do they take a lot of drugs? John carefully laid the sobbing Lucy on the floor, and looked at the man who was now pointing a gun at him.
Yes, well sometimes, why do you ask? He replied thinking what an odd conversation he was having.
I injected them both with enough cocaine and meth amphetamine to kill a rhino, and yet they were still conscious and breathing 8 hours later, that's very impressive. As you can see I was a little more violent than perhaps I should have been with your boyfriend, but Mrs Holmes, well as you can see she has been delightful. I have given her enough acid, that even if the rest of the drugs don't kill her, her hearts going to give out pretty soon. I was hoping to play with her a bit first but sadly time is of the essence so I think I'm just going to shoot you now. He raised the gun, for a kill shot and John decided the 3 of them only had one chance, and rushed him. This was clearly not what Dobbs expected, the shock registered on his face, before he fired the gun. The aim of the bullet was off, and the two Johns collided heavily. Knocking the handgun across the living room floor.
John punched Dobbs hard in the face, reveling as the man's head snapped back. However the punch was stopped short and the two men started grappling and fighting. John wondered vaguely if Mycroft was watching this, both men were equally matched, and it seemed a matter of who would get to the gun first would win. He was just thinking he could grab it, when the man under him went limp. John took the opportunity to try and throttle the man, but in shock spotted his glazed eyes, he was already dead.
John leapt off the body and ran to Lucy, she was shaking no longer sobbing, and her heart rate was ridiculously low, Sherlock was unconscious and bleeding heavily. John was just searching for his phone, when the paramedics entered the room, someone had been watching, but who had killed Dobbs?
When Lucy awoke, it was to a very bright light, for a moment she assumed she'd died. Her Catholic upbringing, had prepared her for purgatory her atheist husband had prepared her for nothing, and her new spiritual lover had told her about reincarnation. She looked around, thinking it was either purgatory to be left in a big bright room, or she had been reincarnated and was in a NICU. That brought her mind up with a start, she was in an ICU. She started to panic, and fight, she remembered the mice, she new that meant a bad trip, those bloody invisible mice. Alarms started going off, and she knew they would sedate her again, so she did the only thing she could think of;
JOHN! She screamed.
Sherlock woke to the sound of his wife-screaming close by, he looked around and groaned, they were in an ICU. Sherlock hated waking up in hospital, it made him feel weak, but worse than that he could hear Lucy screaming John's name, either she was disorientated, or something had really happened to John. Then he saw the jacket on the chair next to his bed, it was John's. He had been in the hospital he had been sitting next to Sherlock, he must be fine, which meant Lucy certainly wasn't. More adept at escaping high dependency wards than Lucy escapes, Sherlock got off his bed, unplugging the machines around him. He was sore, but nothing unusual, a slight concussion he thought, mild head injury. When he stuck his head around the curtain, he saw John with his arms around Lucy, stroking her hair, telling her it was okay.
What happened to her, John? He asked John looked up surprised and then angry.
Go back to bed Sherlock, she's fine. John ordered.
Sherlock whined, and John got up and steered him to the bed.
She's OD'd then? Sherlock asked I heard her moaning about her invisible mice, she always does that. John rolled his eyes, his lovers drug habits really were quite worrying,
John Dodd's tried to kill her with an OD, but she will be fine. You got a crack on the head, but also you great fool, you murdered the bastard didn't you? John accused him jovially
What you mean he didn't have the resistance to Crack and Meth as Lucy and I? I am surprised. He counted, laughing gently.