[ sent at 14:27:06]
Murder, Northumberland St. We know who.
[sent at 14:42:04]
I went there. Nothing to investigate. Why are you messing with me, Lestrade? -SH
[sent at 14:43:24]
Mate, who's Lestrade? Did I just text a detective? The police? Please don't arrest me.
[sent at 14:46:25]
Calm down. I'm a consultant detective. How old are you? Judging from your anxiousness right now I'd say high school. 'Mate' implies that you befriend people easily, so you must be at least 16. Did I say right? -SH
[sent at 14:50:28]
Exactly. How did you guess? Wait, am I in any kind of trouble?
[sent at 14:51:04]
I do not guess, I observe and I deduce. And no, you are not under arrest, nor in trouble.-SH
[sent at 14:52:17]
Wait, how old are you? And sorry for the ride you had to take to ACTUALLY GET TO Northumberland.
[sent at 15:00:48]
I am 17 years old. -SH
[sent at 15:01:38]
Why are you still talking to me?
[sent at 15:01:53]
Because you asked me to. I can deduce you were bored, enough to start sending random messages to strangers. -SH
[sent at 15:06:17]
Sorry for answering late. Harry came into the room. Anyways, what's all the thing with SH and 'consultant detective"? I have never heard of that job. And aren't you too young to get a job like that?
[sent at 15:10:19]
I write -SH at the end of all my text messages. That way people know who is texting them. I tend to change numbers frequently. As for your second question, no, I am not too young. I invented the job. The only consultant detective in the world. -SH
[sent at 15:11:18]
What's SH coming from? Shirley? Harriet?
[sent at 15:12:38]
I, in fact, am a lad. And deducing further, Shirley and Harriet are probably your ex girlfriends, sisters or even other relatives. My name is Sherlock Holmes. -SH
[sent at 15:33:07]
You are brilliant. How did you know? Harriet's my sister. Shirley is just Shirley Temple. Anyhow, I just met the oddest guy ever. He talks so fast and is sassy, thinking he can outsmart everyone. By the way, my name is John Watson. -JW (this is kinda cool)
[sent at 15:34:01]
Judging the fact that it took you so long to answer and the person before me seemed to send a message exactly when mine arrived, I am certain you just met me. -SH
John turned back, to face Sherlock. His eyes were a dazzling, greeny blue. However he was stunned by the sudden turn of the situation, he managed to let out a whimper. "Hello.", he said. He coughed, fixing his voice. "Hi.", he tried again.
Sherlock greeted him, asking "Physical medical treatment or psychosomatic department?"
Shock was painted over John's face, being quickly replaced by admiration and..what was that the detective could see? Amusement? He was probably mocking him, he thought. Instead, John's voice came clear and serious, questioning:
"How did you guess? Deduce, I mean."
Sherlock grinned. "You learn fast. But you still hadn't answered my question. Do you know how to cauterize a wound? How to keep a person alive long enough for the police to come?"
Although he was taken by surprise, he answered quickly, a short answer, army-ish.
"Perfect! So, who are you living with? Are you interested in sharing a flat with me? I have been searching for an assistant for monts, but nobody could put up with me for more than 4 minutes and 32 seconds." John squinted his eyes, but all he asked was "Did you actually count the seconds?" Sherlock laughed at his rhetorical question, but he answered nonchalantly "Of course. There were 7 milliseconds, too. But nobody has ever asked me to go into detail."
John rolled his eyes. 'Like you haven't gone into details ever since we met', he thought. Sherlock appeared to be amused, the shorter lad realizing he had spoken his thoughts. He blushed, feeling his cheeks burning; he hoped Sherlock didn't notice that.
The two sat at a table, discussing the «boring events that permanently occur» in 221B, Sherlock's flat. He explained to John that Mrs. Hudson, «his housekeeper who doesn't want to be called housekeeper» , wants to kick him out if he doesn't pay the rent until next week. Hours passed, and John was completely convinced by Sherlock to share a flat with the detective.
"Also, the Barts Hospital is relatively close to my flat.", he said. "About 2 point 1 miles".
John Grinned.
§-§
So, tell me what you think. This is a kinda-AU-kinda-not fic, in which I may or may not introduce a map. Tell me if you want the two (in later chapters) to move to another city. I have a very detailed map. REVIEW AND FOLLOW, it makes me write faster.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Also, if you DID notice the song title reference in here, let me know. I'll love you forever.
-Delia