Hello Lords, Ladies, Mistresses and Easter Bunnies (How can you tell where the Easter bunny has been? Because eggs marks the spot!)
I know what you're thinking! "Oh no, she won't stop writing!" and in answer to that; I'm afraid that I can't! It's like a hopeless disease!
I hope I have done right by you, gentle readers, in writing a sequel to the "Playing Partners" story – the one where Sherlock buys his faithful blogger a ridiculously large grand piano as he finds out John is a musical genius.
I own nothing but only play to the beat of our Lord and Master; Sir ACD.
+++++Playing Couples+++++
"John, have you seen the effects of marmalade on dead flesh? It's fascinating!" Sherlock exclaimed from the kitchen table. John smiled lightly as he finished his sonata on the grand piano. The expensive and elegant instrument remained in pride of place in the living room of 221B, usually with John ornamenting the keys.
Whirling around from his new piano stool, John swept over to Sherlock, his borrowed dressing gown fluttering out behind him. He causally leaned on the back of Sherlock's chair and allowed his chin to rest on the taller man's shoulder.
"Look at that" Sherlock said proudly, moving out of the way to allow John passage to the microscope.
"What am I looking at?" John asked, amused at the tiny dot of blood.
"Blood cells from a dead finger reacting to the juices of…'Richardson's Marmalade'" Sherlock quoted as he turned the jar around to face them.
"Still don't like marmalade then?" John mused playfully.
"John, the substance is evil, I had to find a use for it as neither of us like it" Sherlock objected.
"I like it…not now though, after you've had your…fingers in it" John said incredulously as he turned from the detective in order to make fresh tea.
The silence was comfortable within the small kitchen as John filled the kettle and Sherlock switched microscope slides wordlessly.
John smiled. It had been three weeks since their…realisations. They had shared a room but not progressed further than sleeping in close proximity to one another. John was surprised as the consulting detective's sleep pattern became more like his own, retiring to bed when John did.
John was also taken aback by 'sleeping Sherlock's' wandering hands. The man was unreasonably clingy once REM sleep had taken over. John had no objections to this, of course, but it entertained him to no end.
John placed a cup down beside Sherlock's microscope and gently touched his shoulder, placing a kiss to the man's curly haired temple before briskly approaching his piano once more and placing his refreshed cup on the mat atop his beloved instrument.
Sherlock risked a glance at his retreating flatmate and smirked, touching his temple briefly with delicate fingers.
"I wrote a song, do you want to hear it?" John asked, his slightly raised voice breaking Sherlock's reverie.
"As long as it isn't the one about jam, John" Sherlock said dully as he continued to stare at his findings.
"No, it's not about Jam. It's about you and, your friend" John said menacingly.
Sherlock looked up at John in confusion before spotting that John was giving an evil look to the skull on the mantelpiece.
"Lets hear it then" Sherlock said lightly before leaning back over his dead digits.
John started to play an upbeat and odd-beat intro, Sherlock found he liked it immediately and eagerly strained his ears for the lyrics that were bound to follow.
"Skeleton you are my friend
But you are made of bone
And you have got no flesh and blood
Running through you to help protect the bone"
Sherlock gave a closed mouth smile to his Petri-dish and remained silent for the pause between verses, biting back any smart comments he may or may not divulge.
"Skeleton we have been friends for years
And you have seen me through some trials
And tribulations and some tears
But everybody thinks I'm weird
And I should have known
That it wouldn't be long
Until you, you've got me standing in an awkward position
With unwanted attention and a need for explanation
And it's not that I'm letting go of you
But I don't know what to do"
"Stop, right there" Sherlock shouted out.
John stopped abruptly and turned to Sherlock to see the man gawping at him.
"What?" John asked innocently.
"Who says I'm getting rid of him?" Sherlock asked with narrow eyes.
"I – haven't finished the song" John said, fighting back a smile.
"Well, if it includes the removal of my skull, forget it" Sherlock stated threateningly.
"Sherlock, it's just a song" John said, rolling his eyes.
"Songs are very powerful, John. We are living proof of that" Sherlock countered as he lay an open handed palm on the table between them.
"True…I'll amend the lyrics" John said thoughtfully.
"Finished" John said an hour or so later. Sherlock still sat opposite him at the kitchen table, now dissecting the un-marmalade marinated digits.
Sherlock didn't move an inch as John moved back to the piano, bit of paper in hand.
The odd-beat tune resumed from where John had left off and he began to sing along.
"Skeleton we are so close
But you have got no body
So why do you insist on sitting there
Skeleton when we were young
It was easy
Even though the other idiots
They would tease me
But I was only seven I had you
But now I'm thirty-two
And now it's different, when I take you out
And you, you've got me standing in an awkward position
With unwanted attention and a need for explanation
And it's not that I'm letting go of you
But, I've got another man to talk to
But Skeleton, you are my friend
And I could never bring your life to an end
Yes Skeleton you are, you are my friend
And I will be there for you until the end
And even though, I'll never take you out
You've not got me standing in any awkward positions
With no unwanted attention and no need for explanations
I could, I could never let you go
And that is all I know
And that is all I know"
Sherlock smiled at John's faded ending and clapped lightly.
"Very good, John, and completely pointless" Sherlock stated looking down again. "I still take him out every now and then".
John turned abruptly to the detective then, his hand connecting with a cluster of keys creating a mumble of notes.
"When?" John asked in disbelief.
"Sometimes when you are at work" Sherlock said emphasising his distaste of John working at the surgery.
"Right, I'm quitting" John said, turning back to the piano.
"Really?" Sherlock asked interestedly. "Do you detest my skull that much?"
"I detest that you go out with it instead of me" John pouted, his back to the detective as he allowed his hands to travel the keys lightly.
Sherlock swept across the room in his snug fitting suit trousers and grey shirt to place his hands on John's shoulders, he massaged lightly as he watched John play.
"You would approve of me quitting the surgery then?" John asked nonchalantly.
"I wouldn't not approve" Sherlock replied. "After all, its not like it pays the bills at all is it?"
Sherlock was prepared for John's abrupt defensive leap from the piano and he had already made a head start; running into their bedroom away from the Doctor that was trying to catch him.
John only just grasped Sherlock's shirt sleeve as the taller man battled with the door handle. Bursting through the door eventually, Sherlock landed on the floorboards with a John shaped weight landing on top of him.
The pair caught sight of each others faces and burst out laughing. After a minute or so their laughter had dyed down into titters and light giggles. John flopped forward and nuzzled Sherlock's neck with his nose.
"Can we survive on the Consulting Detective business?" John asked seriously with a sigh.
"If the Consulting Detective has a devoted partner – in every sense of the word – then yes, I believe so" Sherlock said, letting his head recline onto the floor.
"Consider me devoted" John mumbled as he curled up on top of the detective.
"Already had" Sherlock mused with a closed eye smirk.
"Boys? Boys! There's someone at your door, are you not going to answer it?" Mrs Hudson called through the house. Sherlock's eyes opened immediately and John sat up, each looking to the other in excitement.
"Send them up, Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock called.
"Not your housekeeper!" Mrs Hudson called back as the two men clambered to their feet. John smiled as he heard Mrs Hudson change tone of voice completely as she answered the door; "Hello there, yes, sorry for your wait, if you just carry on up those steps, the boys will see you now".
Sherlock retrieved his suit blazer and put it on efficiently, watching John remove the blue silk dressing gown and pop his arms and head through a cream woollen jumper. They caught eyes once more and shared a knowing glance before Sherlock approached the shorter man and planted a kiss upon his lips.
"Please sit, tell us the story from the beginning and do not be dull" Sherlock stated loudly as he passed the kitchen threshold, leaving John to smile after him.
The train came to a sudden stop as it reached the tiny platform, many miles from anything remotely populated.
"So, this is Scotland" John mused as he dropped his overnight bag onto the platform and donned his green jacket and hat.
"It would certainly seem so" Sherlock replied as he pulled up his coat collar and pulled his blue scarf tighter against the cold.
"Are you two; Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson?" A female asked in a Scottish intonation from the doorway of the plastic weather shelter, the only decoration on the so called platform.
"Yes, yes that's us" John spoke up; straightening his back once he had lifted his bag from the floor.
"Ah good, I'm Mary Morstan, nice to meet you" she said with a breath-taking smile.
Mary was dressed immaculately, as a Laird's wife she would be able to afford the expensive clothes she wore. Her hair was auburn and was perfectly arranged in a delicate up-do underneath a dainty cream coloured hat.
John, finding himself a little lost for words as the woman approached them held out his hand.
Mary smiled once more, showing two rows of perfect teeth as she took the offered hand.
The lingering first touch of a couple attracted to one another did not escape Sherlock's notice, of course, and he ignored the female's hand as it was extended to him.
"Where is the car?" Sherlock asked firmly.
"Through there, my driver will take your bags" She explained, seemingly a little confused about the behaviour of the taller man.
Sherlock took up residence in the back seat of the awaiting Rolls Royce, John sat beside him naturally and Mary took the front passenger seat.
The journey was more or less quiet for the ten minute ride to the large estate.
"Wow, it's beautiful" John exclaimed as he leant across the middle seat to look up at the grand house through the windscreen.
Sherlock sighed slightly before looking out across the misty Loch from his own window. He had to admire its beauty also, albeit quietly, but it was far too desolate for his liking. He wanted to be back home he longed to be curled up in his own armchair listening to John playing the piano.
He therefore busied himself in the Mind Palace for the remainder of their journey working furiously on the information that the Butler had surrendered the day before in the living room of 221B.
"Your rooms are upstairs, please, follow me" Mary said gently as she smiled warmly at John in the grand hallway.
"You have a…lovely house" John stated somewhat unremarkably.
"Why thank you" She stated.
"Mr Holmes, this is your room. Please do tell me if anything is not to your liking" She smiled once more.
"Dr Watson, your room is this one next door" She said rather seductively.
"Oh, that's ok, I don't need a room" John said gently as he followed Sherlock.
Mary stood still as she watched the two men drop their bags on the floor beside the four poster bed and remove their coats.
"Its no trouble, it is not as if we do not have room" She tried with a laugh.
"Oh, it's not that" John said with a smile across the room to the taller man.
"Then…why?" Mary asked with a furrowed brow.
"Ms Morstan, what my esteemed colleague is tryingand failing to tell you is that he is not only my partner in the business but he is also my husband." Sherlock stated firmly, he approached the shorter woman as he spoke and allowed his eyes a perfect view of her from head to toe;
"The mere fact that you are pushing this question of 'separate rooms' upon us, or more so, John, is clear evidence that you want to separate us. The murder that happened, here in this house, happened in that room next door did it not? The fact that you have washed that outfit three, no, four times within the last week is not circumstantial; you murdered Simon Fertell and couldn't rid the fabric of a spec of blood above the hem of that skirt. You murdered him in the middle of the night after you had slept with him. You do not wear stockings as the traditional Laird's wife should upon meeting guests, not opting for another layer in the middle of winter, bit odd don't you think, John?" Sherlock didn't wait for an answer as he ploughed on regardless; "It's another alluring tactic, what you were not banking on was having a gay couple come to visit as you were clearly attempting to take John's life later tonight." Sherlock finished bitingly. His hands clasped behind his back as he leaned towards her threateningly.
Mary's gentle-lady demeanour vanished as she shot a look of panic across the room to John. She made a dash for the bedroom door and the two men both heard the door lock from the outside.
"Ah" John said thoughtfully. "Well done, you have successfully managed to get us trapped in a mansion, on its own estate in the middle of nowhere and nothing" John said sarcastically as he sat on the bed. "I was looking forward to dinner too".
Sherlock rummaged in his trouser pocket for his phone and looked expectantly down at it. No signal. Sherlock held the device up and walked around the room.
"Sherlock, we are in the Highlands, there will be no phone signal here" John said tiredly as he removed his shoes and sat back against the comfortable pillows.
Sherlock stood on the chair at the dressing room table to reach the far corner of the large old fashioned room. To no avail, he too, flumped onto the bed beside John.
"What shall we do?" John asked weakly.
"Nothing we can do for now. We will need to make an evening escape when they are eating dinner." Sherlock said dully as he removed his shoes and mirrored John's position on the bed.
After a moments silence John turned his head towards the detective in shock.
"You said 'husband'" the Doctor said incredulously.
Sherlock did not answer, but instead turned on his side, facing John.
"Why did you say 'husband' Sherlock?" John asked, lying down also to enable him to catch Sherlock's eye.
"It was necessary to be more than boyfriends" Sherlock mused.
"Do you want to be my husband?" John asked quietly.
"John, is that a proposal?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.
"Maybe" John said suggestively.
"Don't be dense, John" Sherlock said dully. "I saw how you interacted with our 'little ray of sunshine' Ms Morstan upon arrival. You could never keep to just one partner; you are not monogamous by nature."
"Sherlock, of course I am. I can admire other people, but I would never cheat on you. Hence why I threw all caution to the wind and did not accept the second bedroom" John said his eyes wide in disbelief. "I am a one – person man" John added with a wide smile.
Sherlock reciprocated the smile.
"Besides, no one could compete with you, you big girl" John said with a light laugh.
Sherlock's smile fell a few notches as he stared at John incredulously. "Look whose talking" he drawled.
"At least, I'm not the midnight molester!" John laughed.
"Midnight molester?" Sherlock repeated with a furrowed brow. "Who is?"
"You" John said with a further laugh "When you are asleep, your hands go to town".
"Ah. John, I'm not actually asleep when I do that" Sherlock confessed, laying the back of his hand against John's side lazily.
"I pretend to be - in order for closer contact with you." Sherlock said guiltily.
"Sherlock, you great lump, why don't you just ask?" John said with a loud laugh.
Sherlock pouted slightly.
"I've never had to do this before, I don't know how to" Sherlock confessed.
John's heart melted as he looked at the vulnerable detective, he shifted closer to wrap an arm around his waist protectively.
"It's only me" John murmured before he kissed the genius gently.
"How about we get this sorted and go home?" Sherlock suggested after the two broke apart.
John smiled "What do you need me to do?" he asked.
"You do not understand; Sherlock has diabetes type A, if he doesn't have some chocolate now he could be in real danger!" John shouted angrily at the door.
"Then why doesn't he have medication with him?" The muffled female voice answered from the landing.
"He did, but it doesn't seem to be in our bags!" John shouted, shrugging his shoulders at a frowning Sherlock sitting at the open window.
"I will check the car" She answered.
"No! He needs chocolate now" John yelled forcefully, raising his eyebrows at the silent man.
"I'll call the butler" She said gently, John heard her heels tap away across the old hard wood floor before he ran to Sherlock, grabbing their bags in the process, Sherlock began to clamber out of the window and down the drain pipe, looking worriedly at the straining brackets. They were old and rusty, only just attached to the ancient stone.
"John, its not strong enough to take both of us, I'll jump and you start climbing down." Sherlock briefed in a hushed but urgent whisper.
"No, Sherlock, you'll break bones if you jump from there" John frantically whispered back from the open window.
"Not if I land correctly" Sherlock said giving a furtive look to the ground over ten feet away.
Before John could say a word, the tall detective had jumped, landing like a cat on the loose gravel below. Taking a breath of relief, John threw out the bags, one landing either side of the detective before he too clambered out onto the ledge.
Behind him the sound of the key in the lock echoed around the empty room and he hastened to shout;
"Don't come in – I'm naked!" before he grasped hold of the failing drain pipe. Sherlock tittered from the ground as he heard John's panicked excuse and watched on as John descended the metal pipe.
Suddenly the pipe started to pop; one bracket at a time panged free from its hold on the wall and before long there was only one bracket nail holding John. Sherlock watched in horror as he saw John free fall more than 15 feet above him. Sherlock, thinking quickly as he always did, stepped onto the Rolls Royce bonnet beside him, using all of his weight he lunged into the air and grasped hold of John as he met him half way, throwing the momentum off course, they both landed on the soft grass beside the driveway, unharmed.
Both out of breath, they laughed lightly as they grabbed their bags and made a run for the adjacent forest; by the time the empty room had been discovered, the men were safely hidden out of sight.
"What shall we do then?" John asked gently as they leaned against a thick tree trunk to catch their breath.
Sherlock looked above him to the clouds of evergreen high above them. It was getting dark and he could see John was tiring.
"We need to get to safety before nightfall" Sherlock stated, looking wildly about him, taking in the strange smells and soft ground, working out countless theorems at once.
John reached out and grasped the taller man's coat-cladded arm.
"I mean about Ms Morstan, she'll do a runner for sure when she sees we are gone" John panted.
Sherlock retrieved his phone and discovered no signal once more.
Throwing his arm to his side in frustration, he glanced up the trunk they leant against thoughtfully.
"John, wait here, do not follow me, do you understand?" Sherlock stated forcefully as he pointed at the shorter man his eyes wide.
"Sherlock, what are you doing, where are you going?" John panicked, trying to control his voice.
"To find a signal" Sherlock said as he pocketed his phone. Taking a few steps back, he touched the sides of his coat as he ran towards the tree trunk and leapt up to grab hold of a branch.
John stared in shock after the madman that was his beloved; Sherlock climbed the 60 foot tree that could easily be 200 years old, stopping every tenth branch to check his phone.
Eventually, John smiled in disbelief as he heard Sherlock talking to DI Lestrade high above him.
The sky was a blood red and the air was very cold by the time Sherlock had shimmied his way back down to the ground, John was shivering slightly.
As Sherlock jumped the last 4 feet or so, John launched himself at the taller man, wrapping his arms securely around him.
Sherlock smiled a little and huffed out a laugh.
"It's ok, John, Lestrade is sending a helicopter" Sherlock murmured as he enveloped the shorter man in his arms and rested his chin atop the doctor's head.
John smiled before nuzzling into the warmth of his Consulting Detective, he felt truly safe for the first time in his life.
Within the hour, Sherlock looked up to the sound of whirring helicopter blades, he nudged John lightly as the shorter man had curled up beside him, sleeping soundly, the pair of them using Sherlock's heavy woollen coat as a blanket as they sat on the floor against the tree.
John rubbed at his eyes and struggled to see through the darkness to the large helicopter that had landed between the forest and the estate grounds.
Sherlock was on his feet in seconds, donning his coat and helping John to stand also.
The couple arrived just in time to see police officers drag a disgruntled Ms Morstan towards the helicopter. There were several bags sitting in the driveway beside the Rolls Royce and the guttering had completely fallen to the ground. Sherlock subconsciously reached for John's hand between them.
John smiled tiredly as he looked up at Sherlock's stony profile, lit only by the estate lights.
"Come on, Sherlock, lets get back to 221B" John whispered encouragingly, squeezing the detective's hand slightly.
Lestrade ran out to greet them, but the couple did not let go of each other's hands.
"We all love;
Jam, jam, jam.
It always goes with
Ham, ham, ham.
Or you can eat it with
Spam, spam, spam.
When I want a sandwich…
I always choose
Jam, jam, jam –"
"John! Will you stop that infernal song!" Sherlock shouted from the kitchen.
John turned to Sherlock but continued to sing and play at his grand piano.
"When you're feeling
Down, down, down
I'll go into
Town, town, town
And chose from the black or
Brown, brown, brown
Jars of
Jam, jam, jam;
Oh, strawberry-" John's hands flew up the keys "-raspberry, blueberry and mulberry"
"John!" Sherlock shouted once more, unmoved from his dissected corpses' jaw lining the kitchen table.
"What ever the flavour,
What ever the bush,
We all savour,
The taste of the sugary mush.
Oh, we all love;
Jam, jam, jam,
It goes nicely with roasted;
Lamb, lamb, lamb,
And you can eat it with any other
Scram, scram, scram-"
As John sang mindlessly along to the up-beat tune; Sherlock swept silently across the room in his chemical apron, attacking John and knocking him to the floor in a rugby tackle manoeuvre.
John's unmanly squeal as he hit the floor was not only due to the surprise of hitting the hardwood boards but was in response to the bed sheet ripping from his bare flesh on impact.
The sudden stop to the cheery song had made Mrs Hudson ascend the stairs to check on her two residents.
Stopping short of the top step, the landlady smiled, abruptly turning heel to return quietly back to her own flat. In her wake she left the two men kissing to their hearts' content.