Hello everyone! First time publishing a story in quite some time for me! I hope you'll enjoy it! I did the spell-check the best I could but I don't have a beta and I'm not exactly a native-speaker ;) So please do tell me if there are really terrible typos or grammatical issues. And now... Enjoy!
When a certain ex-Army doctor entered his home afer a long day at the hospital tending to too many over-anxious mothers and their runny-nosed children, he had hoped for a quiet evening, a hot cup of tea and the comfortably silent company of one Sherlock Holmes.
But upon opening the door, John Watson already sensed the deep frown on Sherlock's face. It was like he could actually touch the mood of the consulting detective in the air. And granted, there he was flopped down on their sofa, pout in place, not moving at all.
After several months of flat-sharing, joint adventures and generally witnessing the brilliance of Sherlock's mind, one could say it rubbed off on John. It took the doctor only a quick glance at the dark haired man to know that somebody triggered the mood.
Mrs. Hudson, their sweet landlady, was out of the question of course. She may be capable of driving Sherlock insane at times but he would never go this sulky over one of her statements. The doctor was quiet certain that he didn't do anything insanely stupid for a change what left him with two other options. One, Mycroft had called and tried to manipulate Sherlock into taking one of his cases which Sherlock refused because it obviously was beneath his intellect and if Mycroft could not solve it himself, shame on him. John knew that most of the times Sherlock took the cases in the end anyway but would never waste an opportunity to drive Mycroft crazy. And in his head, John had to admit that it was amusing to witness although he'd rather be caught dead than to say that out loud.
The second option was that Lestrade had called on him because frankly these were about the only two people who called and put up with Sherlock's temper. If it really had been Lestrade who called, something must have gone wrong because his calls normally got Sherlock all excited over a case but the current mood pointed in another direction.
He just was about to start on the assumed call by Mycroft when he spotted the newspaper on their table. 'Two mysterious deaths in one week- what's Scotland Yard doing?' read the headline on the front page.
Ah, so it was the lack of Lestrade's call that sent Sherlock in this sulky mood, he thought.
"Any ideas?" he finally spoke up while shrugging off his new coat – a way too expensive gift of one insufferable Mycroft Holmes who probably feared that he looked underdressed, not to say shabby in his usual black jacket next to Sherlock.
When other people probably would have questioned what the hell John was talking about, startled by the abruptness of his inquiry, Sherlock Holmes of course wasn't.
John had learned quickly that Sherlock thought that greetings were a waste of breath and time at most occasions and had adjusted accordingly.
"Several and none at the same time to be honest since they didn't bother to put any information of interest in this article." he huffed.
John had a quick look at the paper and frowned slightly. Sherlock was right. There was no conclusive information about the deaths in the article but a lot of bashing on the police force. "I do agree with the opinion on the Yard though." Sherlock added as an afterthought.
John sighed. "Sherlock really, they aren't all stupid idiots there… just because you're smarter doesn't make them completely useless!"
That statement gained the doctor an appalled raised eyebrow.
"Not completely useless maybe but they're all idiots nonetheless and you know it, John. Even you are much smarter than them and you're not trained in police work."
"Trained in military work though… but I take that as a compliment. Have you considered that this article is the reason Lestrade hasn't called on you yet? Because he knows you agree with it and calling on you would basically mean admitting to it?"
John leaned back in is chair, looking thoughtful.
"Obviously. Shows his stupidity even more. He won't change the opinion by wasting time. As I see it, there is next to no chance that they will solve this case on their own therefore, by trying anyway, they are wasting time and most likely destroy important evidence on the way therefore they have to call on us after all and I have to spent time on reconstructing things in order to solve the case there wouldn't have been a reason to in the first place if they had called directly. Also, the more time they need to present any results to the public, the more useless they appear.
John took a moment to sort through the things Sherlock just presented him with in his trademark machine-gun deduction. "It's so irritatingly obvious even Lestrade should see and understand!" Sherlock groaned.
"So you're saying they won't be able to solve these cases because the deaths actually are as mysterious as the make them sound in the paper?"
There must have been something in this article that sparked his friend's interested after all.
"Hardly, John, there isn't such a thing as a mysterious death. There always is a cause! But really, John, two of them? In one week? And if I'm not mistaken –which I'm not- there will be another one before the end of the week."
There was a small –and quite indecent- smile gracing Sherlock's lips that made John shake his head.
"Well we can't do anything and we won't know for sure until it happened…" he sighed. "Tea?" he asked, starting for the kitchen.
SH - JW - SH
Some place away on a rooftop sat a lone figure observing his surroundings, eyes trained on a balcony of the building opposite of him. A satisfied smile graced his lips. Perfect, he thought.
SH - JW - SH
Three trying days later –it wasn't easy to live with a sulking consulting detective- and there still wasn't any news of Lestrade. That itself surprised John if he was honest about it. The popular opinion about the Yarders was hardly news and the DI usually contacted them at the first signs of trouble. He played with the thought of contacting Lestrade about it if it meant that Sherlock would find the energy again to at least leave the sofa again.
In the end he didn't have to. They got the news from the telly already when the door bell chimed and Mrs. Hudson led Detective Inspector Lestrade in their flat.
"Look who's there… finally realised that you need me, haven't you?" Sherlock's face shows a smug superiority but he voice had traces of venom to it.
"Shut it, Sherlock, we don't have time for this…"
"If that's so why have you waited until a third murder happened?"
Both, Sherlock and Lestrade's, heads turned towards John, one looked surprised, the other was clearly amused at his friend's question.
The DI sighed. "Could we leave the discussion on yet another miscalculation of our abilities until this case is solved?" he all but pleaded.
"There won't be much of a discussion, only stating the obvious. I'm fine with skipping that part… for now." Sherlock smirked. "Where do we go?"
"East London, Pentonville Road…"
"Pentonville Road… right, go Lestrade, we'll be right behind!"
Sherlock was already halfway through the room to get properly dressed when Lestrade left the flat.
"Pentonville Road… sounds like a pretty random location to me." John mused out loud.
"Oh we don't know that yet, John, come on!" And although it could be kind of creepy, John was relieved to see the excited fire burning in Sherlock's eyes again.