A/N: Woohoo, first Sherlock fic! Sorry if it's a bit boring; it's just the prologue. This takes place immediately after the end of Reichenbach Falls, so like 3 months after Sherlock 'died'. Hope you like it and please please please review!
93 days, 3 hours, 15 minutes, and 6 seconds.
That was exactly how long it had been since Sherlock Holmes was pronounced dead. That was exactly how long it had been since Sherlock Holmes forged dozens of government documents, dyed his hair blonde, and recreated himself as Arthur Nichols, a superbly ordinary young man living and working (ugh) in Scotland.
That was also how long it had been since he had been consumed with boredom.
He had known his entire life that it must be insufferable to be average, but now that he was playing the part, it seemed more painful than ever. It was unimaginable that anyone could find this sort of existence at all satisfying. Yet all these silly little people puttering about, telling stories about their mundane lives, seemed genuinely happy. It was disgusting, to say the least.
His lip curled just thinking about it. Usually he could suffer silently, ignore the pulsing rage inside him, but at the moment it was inescapable. How could it not be? After making the risky trip to London and watching his best - and only - friend cry at his grave, Sherlock only pined for his old life more. But of course, it would be impossible to return now. Despite looking desperately for three months, he'd found no proof at all that Moriarty ever existed, nothing but his own jumbled memories.
Even more infuriated as his thoughts rolled on, he began mercilessly pushing people out of his path, carving a way home. After spending quite some time in dodgy youth hostels and homeless shelters, he'd finally managed to find himself a reasonably priced flat embedded deep in Edinburgh. It was almost directly next to the famed university, and obviously aimed towards young students looking for a place of their own. Still, it worked quite well for his purposes. Given that most of the residents were young and held regular parties, no one ever questioned the occasional explosions his experiments resulted in. And it wasn't too far away from his work, which was nice.
Work. Yes, work, that was where he was supposed to be just then. Working for the moronic police department as a forensic scientist, as though he couldn't have solved every single one of their cases in ten seconds flat. They'd have his hide for leaving without warning, but it didn't matter. Even they recognized his value to the 'team'.
Which gave him plenty of time to go home and vent his anger (i.e. destroy something). The prospect gave him a miniscule glimmer of happiness, if you could call it that. At the very least, he felt slightly less murderous than two seconds previously.
Finally, he made his way through the crush of people to his building. The front door swung open without a key (a quirk which the landlord promised to fix regularly) and Sherlock bounded up the stairs, dodging the various students heading down them. With a grateful sigh, he threw open his door and yanked an old riding crop off the counter. Almost immediately, he proceeded to whip a human arm he kept stored in his fridge. A tiny smile broke his face.
Somethings may have changed, but this never would.
About two hours later, Sherlock emerged from his apartment, feeling as refreshed as possible. Still not entirely thrilled by the prospect of going to work, he strolled languidly through the streets, lighting a cigarette as he went. John would have killed him if he were there, but wasn't that the point? John wasn't there. Nobody was.
Eventually he found himself wandering into the lab, where, as expected, his so-called superiors were waiting not-so-patiently for his arrival. Indifferent as ever, he whisked past them and began sliding samples into his microscope.
"Nichols," the DI snarled. Oscar Jenkins was a bumbling, shockingly incompetent man whose one pleasure in life was cake. He was married, although the relationship had gone downhill in recent months - his wife was caught cheating. They were staying together for the sake of the children, who had no idea anything had gone awry as of yet. (Jenkins, of course, would be horrified if he knew Sherlock knew something so personal about him.)
"Yes?" Sherlock replied coolly, zooming in on the germs.
"Are you aware that you were gone two days without so much as a call?"
"So?"
"S-so?" Jenkins repeated, a vein in his forehead pulsing. "So you have a responsibility to be here! That's what a job means! You can't just come and go as you please!"
"Can't I?" (Just because Sherlock no longer solved crimes, didn't mean he was any more polite than he had been before.)
"No! You can't."
"Well, fire me then," he challenged, smirking.
"W-what? You... You want me to fire you?" Jenkins sputtered.
"What I want is of little consequence. However, I have grossly broken the common rules of the workplace, as you so eloquently pointed out. That being said, I can only assume that you wish to fire me." Jenkins shifted his eyes around the lab before leaning in closer.
"Look, Arthur, you're one of our best men, much as I hate to admit it." He paused and dropped his voice even lower. "We can't afford to get rid of you just now, but if you want to carry on here, you'll have to clean up your act." Just as Sherlock had thought. He tried his very best to look contrite.
"Of course, Jenkins."
"I'm glad that's clear, then." He started to waddle away before turning around one more time. "And those last two days are coming out of your pay," he warned.
"Understood." With some effort, Sherlock fought back a biting insult. Keeping him on was probably the smartest thing Jenkins had done in his entire lifetime, although that didn't really mean much. Jenkins was possibly even more stupid than Anderson, so one could argue that an ape made more intelligent decisions on a regular basis. Spending the smallest amount of time with him made Sherlock yearn even more for John's, or even Lestrade's, company.
"Soon enough," he murmured to himself, swapping the sample under his lens. "Soon enough."
A/N: Sorry if that sucked. It will get more interesting soon, so please stick around! I'd love to hear what you thought of it, too ;)
