It was a very grey Monday; the rain was falling outside, against the window. In 221B Baker Street, Dr. John Watson was drinking a cup of black tea and updating his blog. Apart from Sherlock's return, that he had published already, nothing worth the record had happened in the last couple of weeks, so he was finding it hard to write an interesting topic. He was going to start working again after months at home. Sarah had agreed on giving him his old job back as they were needing doctors at the centre. A shame their relationship had gone down the drain, but he could hardly blame himself for that. It was hard to go on a date with Sherlock around, talk about actually keeping a relationship. Well, he could have told Sherlock to get lost but, to be honest, he did need the thrill their adventures had brought him.
John smiled, and looked over the computer. Dylan was sitting right in front of him, writing with her left hand and focused. He had no idea what she was doing but she was certainly more inspired than him.
"So, you're studying?" He asked, pointing the books.
"Hum, not really." She answered, lifting her eyes from the books and putting the pen down. "Just reviewing some assignments from University. Might as well finish correcting them now than later."
"I never asked." He realised. "What do you teach?"
"Psychology." She answered. "I like it and it's pretty easy for me, hardly have to prepare classes…"
Sherlock came out of his room in a commotion, and Dylan and John raised their heads, following his steps. He looked nervous, looking around for something.
"What are you looking for?" John asked.
"Cigarettes." Said Dylan, because Sherlock was too busy looking to answer John. And she turned to Sherlock. "There's no use, I threw them away."
"Why would you do that?" Sherlock asked, finally stopping. "Do you have more hidden?"
"Nope. Why would I?" She answered, and got up "But I have this." She grabbed a box of nicotine patches from her bag and came close to him. "Molly really would do anything you ask of her, wouldn't she? Now it's time to try again. You did it once, you can do it again."
"I don't think nicotine patches will help right now." Sherlock said, starting to pace around the apartment again. He picked up his violin and started playing violently.
"Come here." Dylan said, rolling her eyes while looking at John that smiled. "Stop it." She took the violin from his hands and put it in its stand. Then she grabbed his arm and turned the sleeve of his shirt up. She opened the patches' box and put one on his arm.
"I need at least two more." Protested Sherlock.
"One more." She consented. "And that's because you're lucky I like you. Kind of." She put the other patch, pulled the sleeve down and patted his arm kindly. "Be patient. You've been gone for too long; an interesting case will come up again. Why don't you start with the cases you already have? People started sending you e-mails as soon as they heard you were back. If you weren't so picky maybe you wouldn't be so bored. Sometimes, what seems simple, in reality, is not. And if you were able to wait so long when you were with Molly, you can wait a bit more." And she looked at him, opening her eyes in horror. "I can't even imagine what Molly went through, poor girl."
"I had cigarettes with Molly." He contested.
"You have patches with us." She stated, smiling.
Sherlock looked at John that smiled too.
"You're writing on your blog?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. I thought I would start again." And announced. "I'll start working next week."
"Where?" This time was Dylan asking, interested.
"It's in the centre nearby. I worked there before but there were some issues…"
"Oh, it's at Sarah's centre, right?"
John looked at her, surprised.
"How do you know about Sarah?"
"I know about them all. I did tell you I and Sherlock used to send letters to each other."
"You mean, real letters?"
"Yes, real letters. It's more fun! So, are you excited to go back to work?"
"Yeah, I am. And I also need the money, so…"
Sherlock laid down on the couch with his eyes closed, apparently enjoying the effect the nicotine was having on his body.
John and Dylan looked at him and then smiled at each other. Then he got up and opened the fridge to have some water. John followed his steps with his eyes.
"Is that a brain in the fridge?" He asked, pointing, half rising from the chair just to sit again.
Sherlock opened the door again and answered nonchalantly.
"I would say it is."
"For god's sake, don't you have anywhere else to put those things?"
"Oh, that's mine." Dylan said, going back to her papers.
"Yours?" John asked.
"Yes." She answered. "Molly got it for me. I am making an experiment."
"But… you're a psychologist."
"Criminologist, with a degree in Psychology and thinking about studying Forensics next year." Sherlock corrected John, looking at the brain with interest.
Dylan smiled, closing her books.
"That's about right. So, I thought I might as well start making some experiments no one thinks about and surprise everyone when I actually start studying."
"Wait a second, you have two degrees? You're a Criminologist as well?"
"Yes, that's the first thing I study. But Psychology is challenging as well and I like what I am doing now. I got to work with people for a while and that's fun."
"My sister considers an education - or many- a very important thing." Said Sherlock with a tone of sarcasm in his voice.
"I too get bored. And I want to have options of work, just in case." She explained to John. "Okay, I should get going. Thanks for making the tea, John." And she approached Sherlock, gave him a kiss in the cheek and said her goodbyes with a warning. "Stay away from that brain or I will start experimenting on yours."
"How did Molly get you a brain?" He asked, shouting as she was leaving already.
"Oh, I got my own charm!" she shouted back, closing the front door with a noise and leaving.
Sherlock smiled.
"Molly never got me a brain."
John looked at Sherlock who laid on the couch again, staring at the ceiling.
"Okay, that's it. I need to do something and I will be back soon." And without any other word John left the apartment. He came back a few hours later. "There in the corner please."
Sherlock, who was reading something in his computer, got up. Two man came into the apartment, carrying a big box. They placed it in the corner John pointed at and left, closing the door behind them.
"Was it really necessary?" Sherlock asked, looking at the box.
"Yes, it was." John answered. "No more heads on that fridge, or brains or thumbs. You got this new one now. I see your sister is quite like you in more things than I hoped and this way everyone will be happy."
He removed the plastic from the new fridge, happy with what he had done. Sherlock got back to the computer with a smirk on his face.
"So, you got cases?" John asked, after a while.
"Sort of. Boring, obvious things I have no time for." And he sat down in his chair, talking to John. "Listen, I never really got to apologise for what I did. I mean, I did apologise, but… I am sorry for the trouble I caused you. I wouldn't have done it if everybody's safety was not at stake. He would kill everyone."
"I know." John nodded. "It's okay, Sherlock. You explained already. And it's good to have you back. You are as crazy as you always were, but it's good either way."
They smiled at each other, remembering the old adventures and John grabbed the newspaper.
"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked.
"No, just the normal news. A car accident that killed four people, a couple and their kids. Father fell asleep while driving. A big gas explosion on the outskirts of town, the owner of the house, a woman, died. Another corruption scandal…" He cited, reading the headlines of the newspaper.
"Boring." Said Sherlock with the same old manners.
"But come on, if people have been asking for your help, there must be something interesting there!" John stated, pointing at Sherlock's computer.
"Here, help yourself." Sherlock got up, gave John the computer and laid down again.
"Okay… So, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, my parents and older sister went on a cruise and disappeared and there is no trace of them anywhere. They left on a vacation and were last seen in Italy. After that they never got on board of the cruise again and the police can't find any trace of any of them. I know you are the only one who can help me." This is the first one. What could have happened?"
"Maybe they just wanted to get rid of the younger sister. Not interested." Sherlock said.
John looked at him, wondering why he still got surprised with his answers.
"Another one: "Mr. Holmes, my husband and I got divorced a long time ago, when my son was 7 years old. My ex-husband died two years after, disappeared when he went diving. My son is now twenty two and moved last year to London to study. Two weeks ago he called me saying he had seen his father again. It seems crazy, I know, but he knew him very well and if that is true, as my son says it is, I am afraid of what he might do. Please, help me. I can't leave Brazil right now but I need someone to talk to my son and advise him before he makes something insane. Please Mr. Sherlock, I need your help." She seems quite desperate."
"The ex-husband probably faked his own death to avoid paying the child support and took off. Don't need to be a genius to figure that out."
"She is not asking you to find her husband or how her dead ex-husband showed up in London, she is asking you to help her because of her son."
"Do I look like a father to you?" asked Sherlock. And he answered his own question. "No. So, moving on..."
"Okay…" said John, unsure, looking through the e-mails. "Here. I think my husband has been cheating on me…"
"Oh, not that one again!" Sherlock got up, grabbed the computer from John's hands and typed "Yes, he is cheating on you!"
Then he put the computer on John's hands again, grabbed the violin and started playing once more. John closed the computer and got up to get a book, as continuing going through his e-mails wouldn't help calm Sherlock down. The door downstairs closed and Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs, singing. As she entered the room Sherlock said, without looking back.
"More flowers, Mrs. Hudson?"
She paused a bit, getting in the apartment, with a bunch of flowers in her hand.
"Yes." She said, looking for a jar in the cupboard. "Aren't they lovely?"
"Stunning." Sherlock said, not even bothering to look.
"Why is everything changed here?" asked Mrs. Hudson, opening door after door.
"Hum, Dylan has been putting things into place." John answered.
"She did a great job. Everything tidy and no lack of food from what I see. Ah, it's here!" Mrs. Hudson finally found a jar, she filled it with water and put them in the centre of the table.
"There." She said "To make your dinners a bit more romantic. I think it needed."
"Mrs. Hudson, our dinners are not supposed to be…" started john, shaking his head.
"Oh, it's okay dear, I am sure Dylan won't mind. And she moved downstairs already, so you can have dinner all by yourselves sometimes. Well, I better get going, I got to tidy up my house a bit."
And she left before John could add anything else.
"How did you know she had flowers?" John asked.
"She's been bringing flowers the entire week. Quite hard to miss."
"And what does that mean?"
"Oh, you know there is a meaning to it. Well spotted, John." Congratulated Sherlock, putting the violin back in its stand. "It means that Mrs. Hudson has been dating the florist on the other side of the street, and that's why she's been getting free flowers. So many she does not even mind sharing with us to make our dinners more… romantic." Sherlock explained, sarcastically.
John laughed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. The afternoon passed in a blur and around 5 p.m. Dylan came back, bringing more books with her and placing them on top of the kitchen table.
"So, how's the afternoon?" she asked, putting the kettle on and preparing three cups of tea.
"Boring." Shouted Sherlock.
"Yes, thank you." Said Dylan. "What a surprise you answer that." And she turned to John. "Has he been giving you too much trouble? You do need to get out of the house more often, you know? He'll go mad."
"I tried but he said he didn't want to go for a walk, so I figured it was a lost battle."
Dylan gave him a stern look and passed him the cup of tea. Then she noticed.
"Do we have a new fridge?" and she held John for a bit. "Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you. Now we have a place to keep our experiments without anyone messing up with them."
"How do you know it was me?" John asked, surprised.
"Well, Sherlock would not bother to go out and buy a fridge, would he?" and she proceeded. "Here, this one's for you, no sugar, that one's for the bored-guy over there." Then she picked up her books. "I've got to check some things but I will come back upstairs to cook dinner around six. But I will be back in a minute to get my lovely brain… which reminds me…" She paused and turned to Sherlock. "Listen up, how long has it been since you last visited Molly?"
"Why are you asking when you know the answer already?" Sherlock replied.
"You've got a point." She realised. "It's been two weeks already. Don't be ungrateful; she gave you a place to stay for months. You are going to get up right now and visit her."
"I don't feel like going out."
"The hell you don't." She held him and pulled him off the couch, grabbed his coat and, in spite of the big size difference, dressed him the coat and pulled the collar up. "Okay, ready to go. Now, off with you. Be nice to her. You owe her and you know it." She picked her own things again and added. "And don't forget to get her something."
"What do you mean, get her something?"
"Oh, Sherlock...Chocolates, flowers… Use your imagination. You have so much pride on your clever brain, use it now." And she left, leaving him there.
John looked at him.
"She's right. You do owe a lot to Molly."
Sherlock sighed with annoyance, looked around, grabbed Mrs. Hudson's flowers and left, leaving a trace of water on the floor.