Domestics
A Sherlock Fanfiction
Chapter 1: No Cases
It was 2:30am on a cool Tuesday morning and Backer Street was silent. Well, as silent as any street in London could possibly be. Street lights flickered and every now and then the soft drone of a car going past would sound. It seemed as if everyone was asleep.
Everyone but Sherlock Holmes.
Now, don't be alarmed for this sort of thing was quite common for the young consulting detective. Some nights he would just sit in the flat he shared with Dr. John Watson, (a curious man who seemed far too normal to hang around with the likes of Sherlock Holmes) and stare at the wall for hours. Other times he would pull out his violin and destroy the silence, waking up every one of the poor souls who thought it was a good idea to live near 221B Baker Street.
And this is where our tale begins...
Sherlock was bored.
He hadn't had a case in almost a week now... A week! It was as if all criminals in London had decided to take a holiday simultaneously just to spite him. Oh, and the people to who had visited the flat with what they thought were 'urgent cases'! It was enough to make him wish he was a criminal.
One cheating husband
Three cheating wives
'It seems as if women are beating the men when it comes to which sex is more promiscuous'thought Sherlock absentmindedly, 'No wonder John goes through so many girlfriends...'
A missing diamond necklace which the husband had stolen from his wife's jewellery box and sold at a pawn shop to pay off his gambling debts
A false case of stolen identity
A missing prize poodle
And Mycroft.
None of them were worth his time but it was the last one that irked him the most.
But no matter, Mycroft was soon storming out of the flat, stony-faced with his umbrella swinging violently back and forth at his side when Sherlock had simply refused to acknowledge his annoying brother's existence for over an hour.
Sherlock felt as if his brain would turn to mush from sheer stagnation and leak out of his ears any minute now. It would only take one more day of no cases.
If something interesting and worth his time didn't happen within the next twenty-four hours Sherlock was contemplating fulfilling Sargent Donovan's prediction that he would snap and go on a psychopathic mass-murdering spree; a bit like a shopping spree but for high functioning sociopaths who were bored.
It would probably be more interesting and Sherlock was certain the world could spare a few idiots who really didn't need to live.
Like Donovan
And Anderson
Yep, the world could do without those two. In fact it would probably be better off without them.
With a quick grin to himself at the thought of a good murder, Sherlock picked up his violin from where it had been resting against the couch and began to play; not anything definite but a mix of garbled notes which to him sounded exactly like his poor starved mind.
The irony of the situation, Sherlock thought with a smirk, is that Scotland Yard would probably ask for his help to find the murderer of the two agents.
"SHERLOCK!" came an enraged shout from upstairs.
Oops, it looks as if his harmless violin playing had woken John.
'Well at least John is slightly more interesting than staring at a blank wall. Maybe he will make me tea...' thought Sherlock as the sound of John thundered down the stairs and to stare at Sherlock from the doorway with a scowl marring his normally calm features.
"Do you have any bloody idea what time it is?" hissed out John as he leaned heavily against the door.
"Yes," replied Sherlock dutifully. Of course he knew what time it was, his watch was on his wrist.
"Well?" hissed John.
"Well, what?" Sherlock asked with a perplexed look on his face.
Whenever he did something that obviously angered John, he always acted as if he didn't know that what he had done was 'socially unacceptable' or something else dull like that.
In response to Sherlock's seemingly obtuse answer John sighed and rubbed a tired hand down his face.
'Success,' thought Sherlock with an inward grin.
"Sherlock," said John tiredly as he moved from his slumped position in the doorway to his usual chair by the fireplace with the Union Jack pillow.
"Yes, John?" quipped Sherlock helpfully, hoping to speed along the conversation that was slowly becoming predictable and boring.
"Could you just- No, never mind," replied John with another sigh, "feel free to play all you like."
This was not a typical response noted Sherlock. Something was different tonight than all the other previous nights when Sherlock had woken John with his violin.
"Just play something with a soft melody," continued John, unaware of Sherlock's analysing stare as he closed his eyes and relaxed in the comfy armchair.
'Something was wrong' thought Sherlock, 'This is not a typical response at all.'
Normally John would demand that Sherlock stop playing, yell at him for waking the other man at an unreasonable hour and then storm off into the kitchen where he would make two cups of tea (Sherlock suspected that this was out of habit) and then come back into the living room, drink his tea while talking to Sherlock and finally John would head back upstairs with a "Goodnight, Sherlock. Try to get at least some sleep tonight, alright?" to which Sherlock would nod his head and John would disappear back up to his room.
No. Something was definitely different about this night but Sherlock couldn't for the life of him figure out what that something was so in the end he did as John had requested.
He played - quietly and softly until Sherlock could hear the faint sounds of John's snores.
'John isn't that dull,' thought Sherlock with a small smile as he placed his violin back in its case and resumed his place on the windowsill staring out into the night.