Hey I'm back with another fanfiction; my favourite TV series and movie(s). Sherlock (please note: the BBC version, the one which has 3 eps per season and takes 2 TORTUROUS YEARS for a new season) and LOTR. Basically Sherlock helps the Fellowship find Gandalf (set in the first movie). Apologies if it's boring, OOC, have spelling errors or any other awful thing one can find in fanfics.
John walked into the room, his hands full of files. "Sherlock, were these the pictures you asked Lestrade to give –" He abruptly stopped, his eyebrows raised.
Sherlock was squatting in his usual armchair, deep concentration written all over his face. He seemed to be wearing a sort of crumple-up hat on his head, a green cloak draped across his shoulders and a bunch of grey hair in his hands.
And then there was the group of 8 men sitting on the sofa across him.
Out of the 3 most average-looking, 2 of them looked just like any other human man, that is, any other man who had no grooming skills, with their hair looking like it hadn't been shampooed in months and their clothes tattered and torn. The third had unusually pointy ears and possessed long blonde hair that could be in a shampoo commercial.
The other 5 were quite small – they would come up to slightly less than half of Sherlock's height if standing up – and looked mostly the same, with the exception of one fellow who was covered from head to toe in armor. The others had curly hair on their feet and heads.
Out of all of Sherlock's customers, they were the weirdest bunch yet.
The atmosphere was tense as Sherlock stared at them, they stared at Sherlock, and John stared back and forth between the two groups, unsure which one to focus on. Finally, Sherlock broke his gaze and turned to John impatiently.
"John, please, even in you can't be as stealthy as a ninja try to be as quick as one. Meet the Fellowship. The Fellowship – this is John. Now can you go away attempt to stop gawping at Legolas' hair; yes, it is certainly wonderful." Sherlock said brusquely, flashing a smile towards the blonde-haired one before turning back to his original position.
John knew that tone of voice; it was the common 'John get the hell out of here' type that Sherlock used whenever he returned to his mind-castle. He gave one last quick glance towards the Fellowship and hastily scurried out the house for a walk to Mycroft's, hoping that he'd have some more information.
'Darn, he's out of the country on business,' he conveniently remembered after the 15 minute bus ride there, and returned instead to the house, hoping that Sherlock would let him get away with sitting in the kitchen.
He was looking at the darkening sky when one of the Fellowship bumped into him. "Mister John, what're you doing here?" John looked down to see who it was; then had to look further down to see his face. He was one of the smaller ones – actually, the whole Fellowship was there!
"Thank… thank god I found you guys. I've spent the last 30 bloody minutes wondering what your business with Sherlock was." John was surprised at himself; he usually wasn't this interested in Sherlock's cases, but this bunch was… Interesting.
"No need to use vulgarities, lad!" The guy with the bushy beard grumbled, lifting his axe (which John had uncomfortably just noticed) an inch higher.
"Gimli, please, this is an innocent man," one of the normal sized men raised his hand.
"We come from the less known part of this world; Middle Earth, we call it. We are now at group of 8 men, elf dwarf and hobbits; yet we started out with 9, the wizard leading us having been lost in the treacherous mines of Moria. We came to your friend for help, for we believe that the wizard may not yet be dead."
John staggered slightly under all the information, his simple mind trying to digest the information. The fellowship, finally realising that this man was completely unlike the previous, gave him a few minutes to collect himself before continuing.
"Unfortunately, your friend told us information that made no sense to any of us. He claimed that the wizard was still alive, but reborn under a different name, with a different body. If you have any more information on Gandalf please report to either Bag End (the Shire, Hobbitton) or the Last Homely Home (Rivendell, the Lonely Mountains). Thank you sincerely and may the grace of the Valar be with you both." The other (normal) man spoke, bowed, and together they all left.
John stared at them as they hailed 3 cabs and divided themselves, standing there on the sidewalk until the cabs were all gone, and continued to walk back to the apartment. That case would be glued into his mind for the rest of his life; it would be that one moment which he wouldn't be sure if it was real or simply a dream.
If you like the story: review and follow (note that I am not very consistent)
If you hate it: I'd say Nai Valaraukar tye-mátar (aka may balrogs eat you) but you can just go read other stuff. People have differing opinions.
for reading this,
Le hannon
