Hay guys! This actually is an old story I wrote nearly a year ago! I have since gone to university and come back home for the summer break and found my self going back to this story. And I was rather shocked at how poor the writing was! I still think it's a good story but I can tell it better! So here is, again Chapter 1 of The Second Case of John Douglas.
NOTE: This kind of story will be more enjoyed by fans of the original cannon more as it is set after The Valley of Fear as if it had been updated for Sherlock BBC.
NO SLASH but read into Sherlock and John's relationship as you wish ;)
SET during first series, before episode 3.
Through the London smog surrounding Scotland Yard the figure of a tall wiry man emerged and got into a waiting cab, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm against the freezing cold of England in February.
"221B Baker Street," he said to the driver and it rumbled into life and sped away.
"Well then," said John, the cab's other passenger, as he turned to look at his companion with a smile on his face. "Case closed?" he asked, and the other man grinned.
"Yes, case closed," Sherlock replied looking out the window at the last drabs of people hurrying home from working overtime, eager to get away from the blistering cold.
"You know, you really are amazing sometimes" said John, smiling and raising his eyebrows nonchalantly. He unzipped his coat, as the cab was much warmer now they were on the move. "Were your theories confirmed?" he asked still smiling.
"Yes they were," said Sherlock, burring his cold face in his scarf. "As I suspected, the dead man wasn't John Douglas at all, but rather his supposed murderer."
"Right..." said John, with a confused frown on his face. "And what lead you to that conclusion?"
"Oh, it was blindingly obvious from the moment I saw the body, really," said Sherlock lightly, jutting his chin over his scarf to expound this brilliant deductions clearly. "The body wasn't wearing a wedding ring." John still looked puzzled. Sherlock continued rolling his eyes. "With a couple devoted to each other as much as Mr and Mrs Douglas were I cannot fathom a reason for him to ever have a want to remove it. Therefore the body wasn't Mr John Douglas. That along with several other clues such as the missing exercise weight and the fact that the room is half a meter shorter than it should be, all added up to Douglas not being the man lying on the floor with his face blown off." John took a moment to take this all in.
"So, where was he then?" He finally asked. Sherlock scowled at him.
"In the missing half a meter of course." He said exasperatedly burring his face inside his scarf again. "Sometimes, John, I wonder if you pay attention to what I say at all!"
John rolled his eyes then looked more closely at his colleague. He was perhaps more pale than usual, his eyes more shadowy and the light shivering not from the cold of London . "Sherlock, " he said "When was the last time you slept?" he asked accusingly knowing the answer wont be something he wants to hear.
"Sleep? Sleeping's dull," said Sherlock unconcernedly. Then noticing John's face realised this wasn't going to be a sufficient enough answer. He thought for a moment, trying to recall exactly how many days he had neglected the basics of human survival. He could be exact facts on any case, but when it came to his own well being he was rather lax on the specifics. "About 2 days I think." He paused. "Could be 3," he added, glancing over at John again and resigning himself to the lecture that would probably be coming his way.
But John just sighed and put his hand on Sherlock's forehead. He had a fever. Sherlock tensed at his touch and tried to burry himself deeper into his scarf. John sighing again, frowned, and pulled Sherlock's wrist out of his pocket to feel his pulse. "And when was the last time you ate?" he said sternly with the authority of an army doctor.
Sherlock paused. "About 3 days I think." He paused again. "Could be 4," he added, grinning at John mischievously. John looked at him exasperatedly. Sherlock frowned then said, as if to justify why he hadn't eaten in days, "If she hadn't been laughing with Douglas's best friend Cecil Barker, then I could have solved it in a day, two days tops!" He pulled his wrist away from John and shoved it in his coat pocket again. "It was a case of having too much data, which made it harder to separate the useful from the distracting," he said off-handily, and started staring stubbornly at the back of the driver's head.
John rolled his eyes and looked out the window. He knew that Sherlock could last longer than other normal humans without the basic necessities of food and rest, but 4 days was pushing it.
Sherlock looked at John out of the corner of his eye. John as staring moodily out the window seeming to have given up on the usual 'You-need-to-take-care-of-yourself!' speech. This was a relief in some ways; John's perpetual motherhennery did get frustrating during a case. However now, Sherlock was slightly missing it. It was sometimes nice to have someone caring for you, not that Sherlock would ever admit this to John, probably not even to himself.
Sherlock closed his eyes, the soothing sounds of the cab rumbling it's way along the confusing streets of central London and the gentle breathing of this colleague sat next to him was oddly calming. His bones ached with exhaustion and the seemingly freezing cold blood rushing around his body was making him shiver. But he was nearly home, where his laptop was, where a new case was lying in wait for him to keep his mind off these boring symptoms. Probably not a remedy that John would recommend but it was certainly the only one that Sherlock had any interest in.
This first chapter is more of a setting the scene chapter, telling you kind of 'what happened last episode' whatnot type stuff. Around chapter 3 (tho I'm not sure yet) things will pick up majorly!
What do you think? Reviews welcome!
