What ever this may be, It is not simply elementary my dear Watson...
Fandom: Sherlock
Time: Modern day with a 14 year-old Holmes and 15 year-old Watson.
Based on: BBC Sherlock- TV series
The scruffy 15 year-old blonde woke from his night's sleep. Eyes blurred and body stiff, He pushed his cover away squinting at the sun beaming into the room through the tattered dirty white curtains.
Getting up to stretch he yawned pulling his boxes back up to his waist.
A soft mumble came from behind him. He lowered his arms and turned.
"AHHHH!" He screamed in shock, falling on his arse.
"Morning to you too, John" The long haired brunet murmured turning her head to see John's now pale face.
"Wh… What the hell are you doing in my bed, Holmes?!" He ran to the half drawn curtains to close them fully, scanning the streets making sure that none of the neighbours had heard the noise.
"Well, the heating's broken in my room and it's quite warm in here." She purred rubbing her head against the pillow trying to get comfortable once more.
"That's not the point! You shouldn't just-" Watson stopped. He leaned forward and pulled away at the black duvet exposing a partly dressed teen aged girl.
"Hay, it's cold now!" Holmes pouted sitting up in her knickers and a white tank t-shirt that revealed a small part of the little cleavage she had.
"What the hell?! Holmes, you're barely descent!" He stumbled and turned his back on the 14 year old, a blush creeping across his cheeks.
"You're not exactly 'descent' either, Watson." She growled brining her knees to her chest.
"Because it's my room!" He pivoted around, using anger as his excuse to see the half undressed girl sat on his bed.
"So? We're friends aren't we? It's not like we did anything 'indecent'." She swivelled her body round so that her feet could drape off over the bed. She closed her arms and refused to look at his ever growing flushed face.
"That's not what I'm trying to say!" He let his feet hit hard on the floor as he walked across the room. "You shouldn't even be in here!" Letting his fingers wrap around Holmes' arm and grasping it tighter than planned, he struggled to drag her from the bed.
"Oi, That hurts, you little buger!" She hissed as she attempted to break free of Watson's grip.
Straining to hold on, John turned to clench his other hand around her wrist.
"It wouldn't hurt so much if you didn't make it so hard!"
Miss Hudson's teeth ground at one another and the silver tray displaying tea shock in her old frail frightened hands.
"Oi, That hurts, you little buger!"
"It wouldn't hurt so much if you hadn't made it so hard!"
She didn't even want to imagine what the noise was about. She could only shake in fear of what Watson was doing to Holmes.
She reached for the cooper handle of the dark oak door as the tea spilt over and ran down the tray to her ever-shaking hand. Though she didn't respond to the small burning pain thriving in her right index finger as the boiling tea touched her.
"Bloody hell John, Stop! You're hurting me!" She stopped to hear Holmes' cry.
"Get out!" He shouted straining to get the words out.
"I'm coming Holmes." She said to herself, determined to stop whatever may be happening in that bed room.
Watson heard the door's lock turn and stopped his pulling, though he still kept his hold on the young female's arm.
Sherlock had heard the door slam open too late. She had fallen on the bed hauling John on top of her.
They panted, wanting the little breathe they had used back.
"John Watson, get off of her now!" Miss Hudson cried dropping the tray and huffing in anger, like a bull readying itself to charge.
John studied the situation he was in; the bed, the huffing, the pinning of the girl to the bed by her arms.
"No! I-it's not what it looks like!" He stuttered jumping as far from the bed as possible, shaking his head with every word he spoke. The blush had now completely covered his face. The peachy skin that was once there had now been transformed into more of a crimson colour.
Holmes on the other hand was completely calm, she knew the facts of what had happened and she didn't care how it looked. She also knew that Miss Hudson wouldn't hurt a fly, no matter what it had done. Though she would give it a stern scolding.
"Sherlock Holmes. Leave." Miss Hudson never broke eye contact off the abashed, messy, fair-haired boy.
Sherlock stood and brushed at her top.
"Miss Hudson you know I don't like being referred to as Sher-"
"Leave!" She snarled, spitting venom.
She glanced up at John but he couldn't take his eyes off the medusa in front of him, slighting quivering in his place.
Leaving the room she slyly smiled as she closed the door.
She deviously giggled as she left the room behind her.
"That's what he gets for being such a little twit." She snickered as the roars of Miss Hudson filled the air, shortly followed by John's pleas of forgiveness and reason.
Based on some random dream that was pretty cool... Though the strange 'sexual' part in the middle...
Never watch Hetalia before writing a Fanfiction that is not Hetalia based... Never!
The really strange thing is I have these ideas about how Fem-Sherlock and John meet. I've been thinking about writing it though erm... It is truly truly strange! 0-0 *sigh*
Holmes: don't call me Sherlock...
Watson: Why don't you like being called Sherlock?
Me: I already told you about that John...
Holmes: Did you tell him everything?
Me: no...
Holmes: you did... didn't you...
Me: no...
Watson: ?
Me: Haha, Maybe next time ;)
Please tell me about my errors and Reviews are always welcome!
Now too finish off:
Roses are Blue
Sherlock's pipe is black
Hopefully I can do something better
Just to warn you; I might come back! ;D
EDIT: there were some spelling errors and I'm not sure if they're fixed due to the fact that my Laptop ( I call him Sven) Keeps wacking out.
I still have the idea to write a sequel or prequel.