A/N: Hello, dear readers. Welcome to New Flatmate: Part I. This was written by Phie and myself. Our tumblrs are, respectively, phiesalittlelighthouse and iggymarauder. Our friend Kcold (tumblr: kcoldem) also played a couple characters. We encourage you to drop us a line and tell us what you think.
Note: this is a repost from on Iggy Marauder's account, authorized and executed by Iggy herself. There should be no problems or complaints.
Disclaimer: We don't own any un-original places, people, or ideas.
Warnings: graphic sex scenes, gore, language, etc. Also angst, crack, etc.
Iggy Played: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Gregory Lestrade, Albus Potter, James Potter Sr., Sirius Black, Jim Moriarty, occasional NPCs
Phie Played: Phineas Black, Bittie Hammond, Garrett Weston, Remus Lupin, occasional NPCs
Kcold Played: Derek Argent, Clarissa Argent, occasional NPCs
CHAPTER 01
Phineas Black swung his long legs from the interior of the cab. He tipped the driver, pulled his suitcase from the seat beside him, and stood looking up at the building before him.
221B. Baker Street. This is it...
He turned the piece of crumpled newsprint over and over in his left hand before finally crumpling it into a ball in his fist and knocking on the door.
A small, older woman in an eggplant dress answered the door with a cheerful, but wary smile. She craned her neck up quite a bit to see him.
"Can I help you?"
He stuck out a long hand and attempted a smile.
"Uh. Hi. I'm Phineas. I... answered an advert?"
"Oh! Of course!" She gave him a brighter smile, throwing a glance at the staircase behind her. "Right this way, dear."
He followed her up the musty staircase and she pointed towards a door.
"They're in there. I'm sure you can just... walk in." She gave him another brief smile before casting a quick look at the door he was stood in front of, as if to make sure it didn't jump off its hinges and bite her.
"Thanks-" Phin started to say, but she had already tottered quickly back down the stairs.
He was alone.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the doorknob, crumpled address still clutched in his hand, and let himself in, setting his suitcase gently on the floor.
"Hello?"
Blue eyes flicked up at the newcomer, taking him in, before darting back down to the mobile phone in hand.
"Your bed room is upstairs. How long is your girlfriend away?"
It's the brother, of course. -SH
The text was sent and the tall, thin man unfolded himself from the armchair, standing up. He had dark curls, pale skin, and prominent, high cheekbones.
The sound of an aborted yelp came from the kitchen, followed by a sigh and a raised voice asking, "Sherlock, would you please stop putting human body parts in the microwave?"
A short, blonde man in a comfortable sweater walked into the sitting room, wiping his hands with a dish towel. His brown eyes settled on the newcomer and his face lifted into a smile.
"Ah, you must be Mr. Black!" He held his hand out, shaking Phin's. "John Watson. And this is Sherlock Holmes. I, er, hope you're not homophobic."
"How-" Phin began, but his question was cut short by the shorter man's entrance.
He shook his hand and gave him a small smile, wondering vaguely what "human body parts" implied.
"Erm... yeah. Hi. I'm Phineas Black... Phin... is fine. And... no. My best mate's gay." But his eyes flicked over to the other man, just behind the blonde.
"What... what did you say about my girlfriend?"
"Your girlfriend is gone for some time. Am I right?"
John sighed, giving Phin an exasperated smile. "Sherlock is just like that. Don't take offense to it."
He turned and gave his tall lover a look. "Now, Lock, please keep the human body parts out of the microwave."
"John, it's for an experiment."
John rolled his eyes and moved back into the kitchen. "Sherlock, the microwave is for food, not for seeing how fast eyeballs, fingers, hands, toes, or, Christ, cocks, will explode."
"But John..." There was the slightest hint of a childish whinging in the taller man's voice as he trailed after the veteran into the kitchen.
Phin watched this exchange with increasing frustration. He interrupted it.
"No, sorry- hang on. How did you know about my girlfriend?" He scowled at Sherlock. What had they been told?
Sherlock paused, turning to look at the younger man. His soft, deep voice intoned, "Your watch. It shows recent and excessive touching, which means that it has emotional value to you. A small engraving on the side says, 'with love, Bittie.' I don't know of any man that would call himself or let himself be called 'Bittie' so it must be a girlfriend. Put that, the fact that you're moving into a flat with two other men, and that you don't look angry or depressed and you have the conclusion of a loved girlfriend being a long distance away for a long period of time."
He gave a small, emotionless smile to Phin and continued into the kitchen to remove the hand from the microwave.
John popped his head back around the doorway. "Would you like anything to eat?"
Phin glanced at his watch, half amazed, half wary. He turned to the blonde man, eyebrows raised.
"I... sure... I s'pose- Is that... normal?"
John chuckled. "He's like that always. Genius, really."
"And that's why you love me," said the kitchen.
John rolled his eyes. "Anyways, anything to eat?"
Phin could tell that this was going to be an interesting experience. And this was coming from the man who had snorted Floo powder, killed vampires, fuckedvampires, cast spells, and run around on four legs and howled at the moon.
But they didn't need to know any of that.
"Yeah. That sounds good." Phin pulled his phone out of his pocket and gave it another glance.
Nothing...
John opened his mouth when -
"YES!"
Sherlock came barreling out of the kitchen, mobile clutched in his right hand. "We've got a serial killer, John!" He jumped in air, looking much like an overgrown child. "Oh, yes!Grab your coat!"
John's face lit up and he snatched up his leather jacket, swinging it around his shoulders just as Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck.
John looked at Phin and then darted his eyes between Sherlock and the young man. "Er...would you like to...tag along?"
Sherlock glanced at John before staring at Phin, waiting for an answer.
Phin stared at the two men in disbelief.
"I-... I'm sorry. Did you say serial killer?"
But there was little he could do; they were practically out the door. He pulled his rumpled, charcoal grey coat on and followed them, grumbling a bit.
This was NOT his idea of moving into a new flat...
"Uh, yes, serial killer. Sherlock's favorite. He's a consulting detective, I'm a doctor and his assistant. When the police need help, they call Sherlock."
John gave Phin a once over. "Just so we can get you in with little trouble, do you have any talents that might help?"
Without thinking, the doctor's hand slipped into the detective's as they walked, following Sherlock's lead.
Heightened senses. High endurance. Inhuman speed. Excellent strength. Magic. Fantastic in bed...or so I've heard.
Phin shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "Erm... I...can juggle. Sort of."
He had a feeling that wouldn't be very helpful.
Sherlock gave Phin a disbelieving look but decided not to say anything.
Ten minutes later they arrived at a crime scene in a park.
A woman's voice called out, "Freak's here!" and John tensed up, throwing the woman a scathing look. Sherlock just seemed to get colder and more distant.
A man with greying hair approached the trio, glancing at Phin before walking with them towards the body.
"Looks like an animal -"
"But?"
"Butthere are some things that don't add up. We're thinking it might be someone with an attack dog, but the beast is too big to go unnoticed."
They came to the body, which was sprawled out with the back split open as if gnawed on.
Phin's stomach fell.
Oh, shite...
It was easy to recognize the wounds for what they were. There was only one kind of creature he knew that had the ability to kill someone like that. And the smell hung around the corpse so thickly, he was surprised everyone wasn't wrinkling their noses and fighting off nausea.
Werewolves.
But he was puzzled. The moon was half. There shouldn't be anyone out right now. For that matter, how many others of his kind were wandering the streets of London right now?
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the small huddle of hu-... people behind him and inhaled deeply near the corpse. He laid a hand gently near the wound, examining it with a trained eye. It was easy.
"Three hours. Probably. Long claws... he was big. It was definitely a he..."
His eyes scanned the ground before him. He picked up the droplets that the others probably couldn't see. He followed the scent in front of him until his eyes came to rest on an alley just across the street from them. He glanced up discreetly at the group behind him, wondering if anyone had heard him, and half hoping they hadn't.
This wasn't something they should be meddling in...
Sherlock had stopped listening to Lestrade once Phin had begun to examine the body. He barely picked up what the young man had said.
Moving to stand beside him, Sherlock murmured, "You must have outstanding olfactory senses. Would you be able to help us track him down?"
Phin stood up and shrugged. He lit a cigarette quietly and jammed it into his mouth.
"Iunno, mate. This doesn't seem like my area of expertise."
He blew a smoke ring thoughtfully.
"Listen, Phineas, if you have anything, anything at all, that could help solve this faster, I need it. These murders have been going on for two weeks now and John is terribly unsettled. I don't like seeing him unsettled."
Sherlock gave Phin a piercing glare. "So. What do you have?"
Phin stared evenly into Sherlock's pale eyes. The man was almost as tall as he was. That didn't happen very often. It was unsettling the way he looked at him, as if he were a machine and Sherlock couldn't get him to work right. As if he could make the gears turn again with a glare. Phin groaned and shifted his gaze. He crushed his fag against the wall behind him and turned around to face the little group.
"Keep up," he said, his voice low. He bent into a graceful crouch, inhaling the stench of wolf and corpse once more before springing up to follow the scent into the alley.
He didn't like this. Not at all. Following human-killing, unfamiliar, powerful wolves straight into their own territory was probably what was universally known as a bad idea.
He stopped at the end of the alley to wait for them before inhaling again.
"This way..."
John made a quick apology to Lestrade as he and Sherlock took off after their new flatmate. The run was rhythmic and cleared the doctor's head and spurred the detective's mind to work faster.
They continued after Phin until the man came to a sudden stop.
Something felt...
Off.
The trio had been running through the streets of London for a good fifteen minutes or so. The trail had been strong and fairly recent, as far as Phin could tell. But at the end of a rubbish-strewn alley behind a shabby Indian restaurant, it stopped.
Phin checked one corner. He checked the other. He searched around the walls.
He turned to look at John and Sherlock.
"That's it. It's stopped."
He lit another fag, feeling frustrated.
"It just...stopped." John looked around, then turned on Phin. "I'm sorry, what exactly were we doing?"
Sherlock, on the other hand, was taking everything in, muttering under his breath quietly.
Phin shook his head and fiddled with his watch.
"I have no fucking idea. I thought I had him... but he's just gone. There's no more trail."
Bittie sprang to his mind again, uninvited. He felt tired suddenly.
"Listen. I'm going to go back to the flat. I'm tired and I don't think I can help you anymore. I'm expecting a phone call..."
He thought of his phone, sitting alone on the counter. Maybe it had come already...
Sherlock paced back and forth, agitated. "No, no, no, no, no, there's something here, there has to be something..."
Something caught his eye.
"There, trail of blood. Leads upthe wall."
He looked up, seeing nothing but windows to flats, but none were open or had been disturbed for a while...and the blood trail went over the edge to the roof.
"Come on, he cut across by roof."
Sherlock grabbed a hold of the metal ladder on the side of the building, beginning his ascent.
Oh. Of course,thought Phin.
The young wizard hopped lithely onto the nearest dumpster, swung himself onto a fire escape, and pulled himself onto the roof.
He leaned over the edge to watch them climb up.
Once on the roof, Sherlock turned to Phin. "Well?"
John frowned and looked between the two. "No, wait, what the bloody hell is going on? What are we following?"
"No time for that, John. It can wait until we get home."
Phin closed his eyes and took a small, sharp breath and released it. He could just barely taste it.
"Blood," he said to Sherlock, his eyes snapping open and darting around the roof. He dashed over to the ledge, a few barely noticeable dabs of blood dotting the edge before they disappeared.
"It probably goes over onto the next rooftop," Phin said. The jump was far, but doable. He backed up, took a running head start, and leaped the space between the buildings.
Landing on the other side with a skid, he turned to them and gave them a cheeky grin.
"Mind the gap."
Sherlock followed without hesitation, but John rolled his eyes.
"Always the roof jumping."
He backed up and ran, his heart pounding as his feet scraped the side of the other building, stomach colliding painfully with the edge. He gripped the roof and tugged himself up, running after the taller men.
Phin looked around. As far as he could see, there wasn't much up here.
He turned back to the others. "You take that ladder down and check the alleys. Maybe there's something there. I'll stay up here and see if it continues."
Without waiting for a response, he took off and leaped the next gap, landing with a crunch of gravel on the other side.
The doctor and the detective quickly descended from the building, splitting up to search for any clues. John headed east while Sherlock went northwest.
Half an hour later John was completely lost in the labyrinth of alleyways and streets. Perhaps it'd be best to invest in a GPS system on his phone one of these days.
That was his last thought before pain exploded in his mind as something smacked him in the head and he passed out.