Author's Note: This is not a traditional crossover between Sherlock and Glee, but rather a fusion of the two shows. The setting and the plot are based on Glee, while all of the characters are from Sherlock.
...
Episode 1 — Never Been Kissed
Here's what you missed on Chemistry: Lestrade is coaching the Chemistry Club, but Sherlock and Molly are the only two members 'cause it's super uncool. Molly has a crush on Sherlock, but he's gay, so that's just awkward. Sherlock's parents are dead, so he lives with Mrs. Hudson, who's a total badass and definitely not his housekeeper. Lestrade's having an affair with Principal Mycroft, who keeps promising to find money in the budget for new lab equipment, but Mycroft's being blackmailed by Moriarty — coach of the Fruit Loops — who is planning to destroy the Chemistry Club by sending in his head cheerleader, Irene, as a spy. Oh, and John goes to a rival school, so he and Sherlock haven't met yet, but you can bet that when they do, there's going to be… Chemistry.
…
"Hey — loser!"
Sherlock turns reflexively, and Magnussen tosses a slushie directly into his face. It's like getting bitch-slapped by an iceberg. Sherlock's hands fly up to his stinging eyes.
"Maybe your little Chemistry Club can figure out what that's made of," Magnussen taunts. He and the other jocks laugh as they saunter off down the halls of McKinley High School.
Molly quickly steers Sherlock into the girls' restroom. She flutters around, cleaning him up, as Sherlock licks the slushie off of his lips.
"Water, high-fructose corn syrup, artificial flavor, and red dye number 40," he says. "I'll need to take a sample to the lab to determine the exact chemical composition of the artificial flavor, though."
…
"What happened?" Lestrade asks, as Molly and a red-stained Sherlock enter the chemistry lab.
"Magnussen," Molly says.
"I'll have a word with Principal Mycroft about him," Lestrade says.
Sherlock shoots him a knowing look. Lestrade flushes and changes the subject.
"We have a new member joining our club today. Please welcome Irene Adler to New Directions in Chemistry."
A beautiful girl steps up next to Lestrade. "I didn't realize this club was called Nude Erections," she says. "I'm afraid I may not have the equipment you're looking for with me today. Don't worry, though. I've got a whole collection of strap-ons at home. I'll bring one tomorrow."
Molly blushes as red as the slushie staining Sherlock's shirt. Irene winks at her.
"New. Di. Rec. Tions," Lestrade says, enunciating each syllable carefully. "We like to think of ourselves as innovators in the field of chemistry."
"Oh, I can be very innovative," Irene says suggestively, giving Molly a grin that makes her squeak and hide her face in Sherlock's shoulder.
Sherlock looks from Molly to Irene and back again. For once in his life, he is speechless.
…
"I'm in," Irene says to Moriarty. "And I flirted with all three of them, just like you told me to. By the end of the afternoon, I had them so shaken up they couldn't tell a Bunsen burner from an Erlenmeyer flask."
"It's a good start," the cheerleading coach says. "But I will not be satisfied until you burn the heart out of the Chemistry Club and they all spontaneously combust. The Fruit Loops need a fog machine and two more confetti cannons. The Nude Erections budget must be mine."
"Just leave it to me," Irene says.
…
By the next meeting of the New Directions, though, Sherlock has recovered his powers of deduction, which he turns in full force upon Irene.
"You joined this club in order to spy for Moriarty and solidify your place as captain of the Fruit Loops, but your plan has backfired," he tells her. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."
"Sentiment? I don't know what you're talking about."
"You thought you could distract us all with your flirting, and for one afternoon you succeeded. But you didn't realize that you were going to fall for Molly in the process. Now here you are again, but this time you're the one who's distracted from your goal."
"And what goal would that be?" Irene asks.
"To destroy the Chemistry Club from within. Well, you've brought about your own downfall, instead. I imagine everyone thinks love is a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive. You were playing a silly game, and now you've lost."
Irene glares at Sherlock, then glances over at Molly, who's staring back with a half-terrified, half-hopeful expression. Irene's face softens into a smile.
"No," Irene says, walking over to take Molly's hand, "I think I've won."
…
Lestrade enters the lab, somewhat rumpled-looking and slightly out of breath. "Sorry I'm late. I had a meeting with Principal Mycroft about the funding we need for new equipment and supplies."
"Equipment and supplies. Riiiiight…" Sherlock says.
Lestrade clears his throat. "Yes. The local Chemistry Olympics are only six weeks away, and if we want to have any chance of winning, we need to get to work."
"Have you found out who our competition is going to be?" Molly asks.
"We're going to be facing the Nose It Alls from the Haverford School for Congenital Anosmiacs."
Sherlock bursts out laughing.
"What's so funny?" Irene asks him.
"Congenital anosmiacs are people who were born without a sense of smell. They're going to be at a serious disadvantage."
"Lets not get overconfident," Lestrade warns. "We don't know anything about our other competitors, the Dalton Academy Nobels."
"Hmmm…" Sherlock says. "Perhaps I should do a little reconnaissance."
…
Sherlock is walking alone down the hall after school when Magnussen comes up and body-checks him into the lockers. "Hey!" Sherlock yells. "What is your problem?!"
"Excuse me?" Magnussen demands.
"What are you so scared of?"
"Besides you sneaking a peek at my junk?"
"Oh, yeah — every straight guy's nightmare: that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you. Well guess what, ham-hock — you're not my type."
"That right?" Magnussen asks, taking a menacing step closer to Sherlock.
"Yeah. I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be bald by the time they're 30."
"Do not push me, Holmes," the hulking football player warns, fist clenched.
"You gonna hit me? Do it. Go ahead and hit me, 'cause it's not going to change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you," Sherlock retorts.
"Get out of my face!" Magnussen yells.
Sherlock holds his ground. "You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"
Something in Magnussen snaps. He grabs Sherlock's face and forces their lips together.
Sherlock freezes, horrified. It takes him an agonizing moment to remember how his arms work so that he can shove his attacker away. Magnussen stumbles back. He slams his fist into the locker and then turns to hurry down the hall. Sherlock stares after him, badly shaken.
…
Sherlock's dark purple shirt stands out amidst the sea of navy blazers with red piping worn by the students of Dalton Academy. He kicks himself for not having checked online to see if they had uniforms, but he'd been so rattled by what had happened with Magnussen the day before that he couldn't think straight. Well, nothing for it, now.
Sherlock observes each student who passes him on the stairs until he spots one whom he deduces to be a member of the Nobels. The boy is shorter than he is, and a little older, with light hair and deep blue eyes. Something draws Sherlock toward him — something more than the recognition that he's part of the chemistry club at Dalton.
"Excuse me," Sherlock says, a little breathless. "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here…"
The boy turns to him with an open smile, and holds out his hand. "My name's John."
"Sherlock."
The touch of John's hand is electric. Sherlock forgets all about spying on the competition. He blurts out "Would you like to have coffee?"
"Oh, god, yes," John says. "Come on — I know a short cut out of here."
John leads Sherlock by the hand through a blur of corridors. Sherlock feels as if he's running in slow motion, in a dream. Nothing is clear except his need to keep hold of John.
Some incalculable time later, they are sitting across from each other at a small table, coffee cups untouched in front of them, and Sherlock is telling John everything. About the New Directions. About the bullying. About being gay. About what Magnussen did to him. About the fact that he'd never been kissed before. And John is listening, with a fierce compassion that brings tears to Sherlock's eyes.
…
The next day, John accompanies Sherlock to McKinley High.
"There he is," Sherlock says, as Magnussen approaches them.
"Let me do the talking," John says. "I've got your back."
"Hey, lady-boys," Magnussen sneers.
"Sherlock and I would like to talk to you about something," John says, unintimidated by the much larger boy.
"I've gotta go to class," Magnussen says, pushing roughly past them.
"Sherlock told me what you did," John calls after him.
Magnussen turns, all bravado. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"You kissed me," Sherlock says.
Magnussen looks around anxiously, making sure no one heard. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"It seems like you might be a little confused," John says.
Magnussen shoves John up against the fence. "Do not mess with me! I will kill you both if you breathe a word of this! I. Will. Kill. You." He punctuates each word with another shove. Then he makes a shooting motion at Sherlock's head before he rushes away.
"Well, he's not coming out any time soon," John says. "Come on. Let me buy you lunch."
…
End Notes: I'm creating this Sherlock/Glee fusion for the Miniseries March challenge on tumblr and AO3, but those of you on this site lucked out, 'cause you're getting the first episode in February. This is written as a gift for the readers who followed me over here from the Glee fandom, as well as my way of encouraging the Sherlock fans to check out Glee. If you believe representation matters, Glee will make you, well, gleeful!
Do you know what makes me gleeful? Reviews from you. :)
