For mandatorily on lj, who seemed to need some cheering up and to allow the plot bunnies to multiply. Sorry it took a bit to write. Evidently AP season is not a good time to be writing fanfic. It's crack, cracky crack with all sorts of weird shit. Written for the purpose of crack. Although there might have been a moment where I got deep. Maybe. Even I question that.
From the what makes you site I was pimping earlier.
Sherlock Holmes is made of adobo, honey and rivalry. With a dash of the South.
John Watson is made of crepes, papers, and Science. With a dash of Rick Astley.
John is made of vanilla, pancakes, and depression. With a dash of hentai.
The case is a murder. Because Sherlock really only works murders. Having a body is half the fun for him Donovan remarks snidely as they crash into the scene of the crime, an upscale hotel this time, dead set in the center of the financial district. Crash is the correct word for it, because there is no other way to describe Sherlock except as sharp and John provides the blunt edge to grind against.
What? Of course they're not a couple. Not at all. Nossir.
Moving on.
Donovan is like psychopath. Anderson is all pissing contest, and Sherlock dismisses then both. John's like bitch please! and Lestrade is like body, focus.
They do. Mostly. John is totes watching Sherlock.
The body is an old guy, American by his weight, tan, and the Dallas Cowboys flag poking out of his suitcase, Sherlock deduces instantly. Anderson doesn't figure it out until they find his passport.
Just a simple murder. Now bored Sherlock watches John watch him. Rather he watches John sneak sideways glances at him and blush whenever their eyes meet.
Now really bored (John is determinedly not looking at him after the eighth time they went through that routine) Sherlock announces his conclusions to the room at large instead of waiting impatiently for them to come to the (wrong!) conclusions then gleefully correcting them. Business partner over a woman. Nothing like a knife to the gut to solve that nonsense.
He's bored and it's manga day. You wouldn't want John to miss the latest installment of his favorite porny comics would you?
John, much to the astonishment of the room, blushes and stammers. Anderson stupidly snickers. Sherlock proceeds to rip the idiot apart. Donovan giggles behind her hand. Lestrade begins to slowly and repetitively bang his head into the wall. Over and over.
And again.
And again.
They all stop and stare. Sherlock giggles just a bit.
Eventually Sherlock shrugs and drags John, who looks like he really wants to say something from the room.
That would be the end of it except the business partner lawyered up as soon as he heard about the body's death. Actually he lawyered up three hours before he should have heard about the partners death. Suspicious hmm?
John tends to think so. But Americans do love their lawyers.
He says as much over tea to Sherlock, attempting to subtly nudge the honey closer to the man. Sherlock likes honey in his tea but only when it thinks you aren't looking. A fondness for sweets is a human error and Sherlock likes to project that he isn't human.
John thinks Mycroft might agree with his brother on the point. The not being human thing. The Holmes brothers like the idea of pretending to have sprung fully formed from their mother's head.
Of course Sherlock would hate the comparison... Stop plotting John. Sherlock mutters around his teacup.
Mind reading is Sherlock's other super power. Y'know besides his massive intellect.
So when Lestrade comes pounding up the stairs Sherlock is already pulling on his coat. Let's go shopping John! And they're off. Of course by shopping he means raiding the police storage room. For gear, cheap suits, shoes, ugly ties. Standard government monkey suits.
An couple of ids from Sherlock's ever growing stash (he pickpockets the boring and every one except John is terribly boring. What? No he doesn't have a crush. Stop smirking Mycroft.) An American and a British government id.
The partner is an American. Texan. And like all Texans (and Parisians and New Yorkers) he believes all the world revolves around Texas (and Paris and New York.) Londoners suffer from the same delusion? Don't be preposterous. Everyone knows the world revolves around London.
So they show up at the partner's hotel and flash some id and are generally sneered at by the staff, guests, and the ugly mini mutt of the rich old lady in a fur coat. Though oddly it only seemed to have a problem with John. Usually it's Sherlock animals can't stand.
It even tried to take a chunk out of his ankle. He very discreetly kicked the shit out of it. It didn't even yelp, proof of what a genetic stain it was on the earth.
Sherlock in a pronounced southern drawl, all dropped g's and r's, long o's, soft t's and a y'all tossed in for good measure, politely asks at the desk for Mr. Business Parder's room.
The concierge sneers in a very British upper crust way, looks the man up and calls him up. His sneer becomes more pronounced as the man tells him to send them up, in a thick Texan accent that can be heard even over the phone.
They are shown up to the room by a valet, also sneering. He knocks and the man that opens the door is big,round and wearing a cowboy hat and a robe.
Sherlock is an embassy member just tryin' to help a fellow American, fellow Texan out. John is his British counterpart. They're invited in, offered drinks, sit down. Sherlock needs the bathroom. John pitches the partner,offering to make the small problem disappear.
The partner would have taken it except there was another person hanging out in the rooms, the woman, if Sherlock's theory is correct (it always is) who starts screaming when Sherlock pokes his head in when he's snooping about.
The partner reacts. Violently. Long story short Sherlock gets gut shot with a shotgun that was smuggled into the country, the partner's face gets curb stomped by John, the woman never stops screaming, and there were lots of pretty flashing red and blues.
In the hospital after statements and when Sherlock is looped out on Oxycontin he's asking for John as always. John enters the room and sits with him.
That was not so good?
Yeah.
Pause.
Sherlock?
Yes John.
I'm feeling the urge to burst into song.
Sherlock giggles. Resist the urge.
I don't want to.
Then go ahead
I'm never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you. I'm never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.
I don't know that song.
Well. Your knowledge of pop culture is sadly lacking.
This would be the point where they kiss in a movie. Mycroft comes sliding in at the right moment to interfere with the potential kiss. Sherlock groans.