The Case of the Missing Detective
Chapter 1:Bored
Boredom gets to us all, even the greatest detective of all time: Sherlock. John wished he could cure the one thing that plagues them both at this point in time, but he could hear Sherlock's words echo through his mind as he decided not to do what he wanted, but instead, what he thought he should do, "Sherlock. Calm down, we'll find a case soon enough."
Sherlock looks at his blond flatmate and says, "You don't know that. Just shut up," he sat in his chair, twitching from the energy he couldn't get rid of. "Ugh, John. Why do you have to be so ordinary?" John was confused. Ordinary? He thought that maybe Sherlock really was losing his mind from being bored. It happens way too often now for John to be concerned.
"Sherlock?" John asks, nervous. He doesn't know if Sherlock will be mad at him for disturbing his peace.
"What do you want now?" Sherlock says, being a little more rude than he meant to be.
"Well," he couldn't think about his question now. Then he remembered, "Don't you have experiments to tend to?"
"I wish. There's nothing new, they're as boring as you are." he propped himself up the back of the chair he was sitting in, his feet landing and staying on the seat. His robe flew up and around him as he made these motions. John likes the blue on Sherlock, it brings out the blue in his gray eyes. Sherlock is aware that John is staring at him once again; he gets annoyed. "Must you always stare at me?" he asks, again being more rude than he intended.
John immediately looks down at his bare feet, "Sorry." Great. Now he's sad. Sherlock thought to himself. Now he felt bad. Wait. I feel bad. Oh God. Sherlock was having an emotion again, and he didn't like the fact that he was having them, again. He liked that they were from John, but not that they were there. Do I like John? I don't know. No. He shook his head. But, does he? Maybe. Whatever.
"Soooooo bored, John!" Sherlock complains. John wished he could just shut him up, but he didn't know what to do except what he should really not do.
Sherlock kept complaining and John was getting annoyed, "Shut up, Sherlock! Just. Shut. Up." Sherlock goes quiet for a moment.
But only to start complaining again, but not about being bored, "You don't have to be mean, John." Sherlock glares at John, the glare dissipates to leave a blank stare.
"What?" John jerks his head to see the stare he could feel. Sherlock looks away, No. I don't. I never will. It's not right.John wonders why Sherlock was staring at him. He always does, but not like that. But this is Sherlock, his face says he's thinking about one thing when he's really thinking about something completely different. At least John thought that this time was the same, when it wasn't.
Something starts ringing, Sherlock's phone. He jumps up, "Finally!" he answers, "Yes?" his face turns to the one that John established as his bored face when he hears his brother's voice over the phone.
"Sherly. There's a case for you at the apartment of a man and a woman who committed suicide." Of course, John doesn't hear this.
But he does hear, "Don't call me that. Besides, why are you calling and not Lestrade?" John now knows it's his brother. "And why would I look into a case that's so dumb and dull?"
Sherlock hears, "Because I know that they are definitely not suicides. But I want you to go reveal that for me. anyway, the way they did it should set you off." Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Sherly. Now get your ass down there to that flat. I'll text you the address." And the phone was shut. Sherlock sighed.
"Time to go get dressed, I guess," and off to his room he was. He came back out in John's favorite shirt (the purple one) and a pair of pants that matched the color of his jacket. John and he pulled on their coats, Sherlock his scarf, and out the door they were as Sherlock's phone chirped in his pocket. His brother did as he said, and texted him the address.
Once they were out on the sidewalk, "Why was it your brother?" John asked, curious.
Sherlock looked at him, So ordinary, so dumb and so dull. "Because, the police think they're a suicide."
"They?" Sherlock nodded. John shook his head as Sherlock stopped a cab. He simply showed him the phone and off they were. Sherlock was too busy thinking about… people to be distracted by talking.
While they sat in the cab, somehow John had gotten extremely close to Sherlock when they sat down, and John's fingers brushed Sherlock's when he set them down on the seat next to him. He blushed a little, just enough for Sherlock to notice, and put his hands in his coat pockets. Sherlock only saw the blush because he was looking for it. He wanted to know that John liked him. Because no one else likes Sherlock, except Mrs. Hudson. But she likes almost everyone.
Oh, John. If only you knew what I really am. You'd never crush on me if you did. Who Sherlock is, is the only reason he hasn't taken advantage of John's crush he inevitably had on the burnet. Everyone knows it, but John is the only one that won't admit to it. Even Sherlock has admitted to parts of it. Such as, needing his blogger, or that he would be lost without his soldier. But that was it. Everyone thinks they're in a relationship, but they aren't. Yet. Wait, Yet? Will there be anything between us? Maybe.