A/N: This fic was co-written with SilentRaven97.
Me as John Watson and Greg Lestrade.
SilentRaven97 as Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes and Ella Thompson
Enjoy!
Sherlock was laying on the couch of a hotel in Eindhoven, the Netherlands. And he was stuck there because Mycroft somehow blocked him from the airport.
Therefore he had taken to complaining to the reason he was there in the first place: a murder of an English woman that turned out to be an elaborately staged suicide. It could not be solved by Scotland Yard because they had a personnel shortage (or that's what they called it officially when they needed Sherlock's help). Why he ever agreed to help Lestrade out with this he did not remember.
11:08
Bored
11:09
Why did I have to come here?
This was barely a 4, George.
11:10
I could have solved this without going overseas.
11:10
BORED
12:45
First of all, it's GREG.
12:46
Second of all, aren't you supposed to be on the plane by now?
12:47
Yes
12:47
Mycroft blocked me from the flight
12:48
What did you do?
12:48
I collected bees. He won't allow me to take them. Even though they are all pinned up and sealed.
12:48
Pin.. Pinned up!? Sherlock, did you kill those poor bees?
12:49
How else am I supposed to collect them?
12:49
Have you considered not collecting them at all?
12:50
Isn't there a law that prevents you from killing bees?
12:50
I want to compare species. To do that I need samples.
12:50
I don't think so. Not like it damages the population.
12:51
Scientists kill more bees for conservation projects than I could possibly attempt on my own.
12:51
And it is summer so most of my samples are burned out bees from their foraging grounds and nest sites.
12:53
Well...that's awfully responsible of you. Who would have known.
12:54
And stop texting me! I'm at work! Find some other distraction!
12:55
Btw we could use some help...ON SITE. When are you coming back?
12:56
The more trouble I make, the longer I will be stuck here.
12:57
Can't. Mycroft blocked me.
12:58
Piece of advice. Give up. Come back home. Stop being a child.
You can't win this fight. You know that.
13:00
Can't. He has security on me. They won't let me enter the airport.
13:01
I meant, give up the bees.
13:02
If I do, you have to convince Mycroft to actually let me come back.
13:03
I'm sure he will let you. Unless you did something else to piss him off.
13:03
Not that I know of.
But I can't contact him, remember.
13:04
I'm tired of being you babysitter, Sherlock. Maybe I should... Do nothing?
13:05
Good luck solving your cases with only the idiots then.
13:06
A few hours wouldn't hurt.
13:07
You underestimate their stupidity.
13:08
I would appreciate if you cease attempting to help him out, Detective Inspector.
I need him to do another job in the Netherlands without him finding out it came from me.
13:09
Alright.
You Holmes brothers take sibling rivalry to the next level.
13:10
Nah, I think some Netherlands air will do you good. Perhaps a little reminder for next time.
I'm blocking your number, don't bother spamming my inbox.
Laters!
P.S My first name is Gregory!
13:10
This is not rivalry, Detective Inspector, simply business. But Sherlock refuses to do anything that benefits me on principle.
13:11
Right, and my name is George.
13:12
Nevermind, I am not helping him. Do what you must. Just let me do my job in peace.
13:13
Thank you. I shall leave you to it then.
13:15
Bored
13:15
*This number has been blocked.*
"Bugger"
"The air in the Netherlands will be good for you. Like it is any different from English air"
15:38
*Congratulations, Mr. William Holmes! You have been Matched.*
'I have been matched? By whom? To who? Why is it calling me William?'
" ?"
Sherlock searched through the not-relevant information rooms in his mind palace...And came up empty handed.
In a combination of boredom and curiosity, Sherlock opened the website.
The page that opened was his profile page.
221Bees.
He must have made the page for that fraud case in Edinburgh last year. He did not remember the details. The case rated a 3 and was not worth space in the mind palace.
'Now the website had matched him with...'
Sherlock clicked on the matched profile.
'a puzzle loving army doctor who likes tea.'
"Dull"
Sherlock shut the website down and got up from the couch.
"If I am stuck here I might as well buy some cigarettes...and takeout"
After three days of hotel coffee, food was in order to keep the transport up and running.
Meanwhile with John.
John sat in the waiting room, going through The Hindu an Indian newspaper, while waiting for Ella to call him in. He sighed - despite being a doctor, he never really fully trusted therapy. He knew Ella had no clue about what was going in his head. The only reason he was still in this tropical country, waiting in an air-conditioned room to be called, was because he was ordered to. After the Ghazi attack, John was ordered to stay in India for the next nine months, trying to improve his mental and physical health. His shoulder was almost normal, his mind was not.
"So, John. How's your blog going?" asked Ella, an all-knowing look on her face.
"We both know I haven't written a word. You know that I'm only here because I have to be here. Can we just quit the facade?"
"John. You have been shot in the shoulder. You thought you were going to die. You have a psychosomatic limp. Why won't you just admit to yourself that you need help?"
John remained silent, not wanting to say the words that were threatening to burst out.
"Two more months" he told himself.
"Do you have anyone else to talk to about this? If you keep refusing to talk to me I have to insist that you talk to someone else."
John looked at her, incredulous at her suggestion. She knew as well as him that John didn't talk to people unless he absolutely had to.
"I'll try" he muttered halfheartedly, mostly to get Ella off his back.
Ella looked at him, suspicious of his quick but lacklustre agreement. "I expect to you to have proof if at least one conversation at our next appointment."
John nodded. It was not like she could do anything if he didn't do it.
As if she read his mind, she said:
"And if you don't, I will sign you up for 6 months of extra mandatory therapy."
"No way. You can't do that. You don't have the authority" color flooded into John's face for the first time in many months.
"No I don't, but your general/superior does. And while I do not disclose what I discuss with my patients, I do give progress reports. If I advise extra therapy, you will be assigned more therapy."
"You wouldn't." John challenged her.
"I do not release my patients until they are healthy or at the very least on the way there. So I definitely will." Ella stated, completely serious.
John stared at her, realizing that she was actually serious.
"Okay..."
Ella sighed, relieved he was finally showing a sign of cooperating. "Great, on that note I will let you go for today. I expect results next week."
"I'll try. No promises, Ella"
"John" Ella sighed "I am asking you to have a serious talk with ONE person in the next week."
John got up, realizing his one hour was up. Thank heavens! He made for the door, desperate to leave. He stopped midway opening the door.
"Okay, fine, I'll do it. Okay? Bye."
"Bye John, see you next week." Ella relaxed when he closed the door behind himself. Glad that one of her most stubborn patients was finally showing an interest in improving his situation, even if she had to threaten him into doing it.
(a few hours later)
John switched on his laptop, trying to update his blog. He would type a few words, press backspace and the whole process would repeat again. He eventually wrote a small piece about that day and then... deleted it. This was something John did every day. Every day he would type something and everyday it was deleted again. He was just not ready. John wondered if he would ever be.
His phone pinged, no doubt his cell phone provider was missing him again.
15:38
*Congratulations, Dr. John Watson! You have been Matched*
A/N: The dating profiles can be found in Archive of Our Own. It is under the same story name and same pen name(s)