a/n: You may have noticed I haven't had a chance to update my other stories. Don't worry, there's going to be more of that, but the idea for this story has taken over my mind for quite some time, so I may just work on this for a while.
Trouble Comes in Teas
Chapter 1
"You're going where?" John asked as Sherlock put on his coat and scarf and headed for the door.
"Tea. I've been invited to tea by a friend of mine."
"A friend of yours? Really? I find that hard to believe." John teased.
"There was once a time when I had nothing better to do than talk to others. Of course, that time lasted maybe two weeks at most. See you later, John," Sherlock said as he left.
Sherlock was looking awfully spry. This must have been one incredible friend he was going to see.
All of the women sitting in the parlour seemed a little bit on edge. There was supposedly a great visitor coming to join them for tea today, which was out of the ordinary for their "simple" club.
One of the ladies, younger than the rest, sat at the head of the elegantly furnished table, lounging slightly in her luxury chair. She smirked with the knowledge that their visitor was certainly going to be an interesting one. After all, he was the Sherlock Holmes.
The women were chattering amongst themselves nervously when Sherlock burst through the double doors to the parlour. His mysterious, lanky appearance and the way he carried himself took the members of the club by surprise.
"Good afternoon, ladies. I'm Sherlock Holmes. It's wonderful to be able to join you today," he said, introducing himself whilst slightly hopping into the empty chair adjacent to the woman at the head of the table.
Everyone immediately started murmuring, wondering why Sherlock had been invited in the first place. This was, after all, a women's club.
"Excuse me, everyone. Please show a little… courtesy… towards our guest?" the woman in charge asked the group. "I'll explain soon enough."
The women stopped and stared at both her and Sherlock.
"All right, as most of you know, I'm Abigail Lucas, the president of this chapter of the Ladies' Reformed Diogenes Club. Today, I've decided to take us one step further to achieving 'intellectual nirvana,' as I like to put it, by giving you all an insight into one of the greatest minds in London." the woman in charge explained.
"I'm sorry, Abby, but who is this man, and how could he possibly have a greater mind than yours?" asked one woman.
"I'm flattered, really, but you must understand. Sherlock Holmes is the leading expert on solving crimes. Scotland Yard need his help all the time. Believe me when I say this man has an unparalleled knack for coming to conclusions that are one hundred percent spot on," Abigail answered.
"Abigail tends to overstate the underlying truth," Sherlock cut in. "I am not the leading expert. I am the leading consulting detective. I'm not an amateur, but I wouldn't consider myself an expert either. I just look for the facts and deduce the truth."
"Oh, shut up. You're an expert, whether you like it or not."
"All right, then. It's been decided. I'm an expert," Sherlock said, shrugging.
Abigail cleared her throat. "Now then. Where shall we start… I know! International identity cues. Those are quite important for our line of work," she said, winking at the group.
They then began an in-depth discussion on how to recognise certain aspects of a person's personality and appearance, make significant discoveries about his or her life, and then draw conclusions in relation to a related matter. They discussed other topics in the same manner, and Sherlock would always point them in the right direction in order to figure out the exact "science of deduction".
After about an hour of discussion, they decided to break for tea.
"How have you been, Sherlock? I forgot to ask earlier because your lecture was so intriguing," Abigail said.
"I've been fine. Just doing what I normally do."
"I heard you have a new flatmate. And he's an army doctor," Abigail whispered slyly.
"What's that supposed to mean? Yes, he is an army doctor," Sherlock said.
"It's funny, you don't pick up on any of my social cues, but if I miss a word or twitch my head or something like that, you always bother me about it!" she complained.
"Correction: I pick up on them, but I just choose to ignore them. Because usually they're pointless."
"God, I've missed you. If only ninety-nine percent of the population had half as much sense as you," Abigail sighed.
"Then what? What would happen? You left your statement with a hanging dependent clause," Sherlock said, correcting her.
Abigail fell into Sherlock's arms for a giant hug. "Mmmm… you are the most adorable person ever!" she said, half mumbling into his shirt.
"You're not acting very professional right now," he chided.
"I don't care. I really don't."
Sherlock quickly glanced at Abigail's left hand. There was still no ring. This would make matters more complicated. He had been informed, albeit unreliably, of a completely different situation…
"Listen. I think you should probably meet my flatmate, actually. He's different than all the other people I used to casually socialise with," Sherlock told Abigail.
"Oh, really? Is he… the one?" she asked.
"I don't know… I wish you'd stop with that hinting… it gets embarrassing," Sherlock muttered, his face turning slightly red.
"I'd love to meet him, no matter what your relationship status is right now," Abigail said, winking. She winked too much, Sherlock noted.
Later, both of them travelled back to 221B to give John a proper introduction to Sherlock's friend.
"Wait, Sherlock, this is your friend?" John asked incredulously as Abigail entered the room and Sherlock introduced her. "No offence, but I was imagining one of your schoolmates or something."
"Well, I am his childhood friend. Not necessarily a schoolmate, but I might as well have been," Abigail answered.
John took Sherlock aside for a moment. "Sherlock, why did you never tell me that you knew this girl before? She is incredibly attractive, and I would have greatly appreciated meeting her earlier."
"I'm not sure if she's available, if that's what you're implying. That's why I brought her back here in the first place. I need you to figure out her personal life for me."
"What? Like hell, I'll do that for you! I already claimed her as soon as she walked in the room!" John whispered angrily.
"It's not for my sake, idiot! There's something more important at stake."
John just stood there looking like a sad kitten.
"Would you stop taking the whole 'idiot' thing seriously? I didn't mean it," Sherlock said. He glanced up to see Abigail behind John's back, making faces and gesturing as if she were pushing John closer to him. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.
"Anyway, I'd like to know what you even do for a living that requires you to go to two-hour-long tea parties," John asked Abigail, walking back towards her.
"They are not tea parties, they're business meetings. Business of the highest importance. And I can't be bothered giving that information to just anyone. However, since you're Sherlock's friend … I'll make an exception. I work for the Ladies' Reformed Diogenes Club. While it may sound like a club of leisure, it's actually a high-ranking government agency. We're considered the 'diplomatic' chapter, dealing with international crime and affairs," explained Abigail.
"Was that safe to tell me?" John asked, looking a bit confused.
"Yes, she asked ahead of time if it was all right, so there's no need to worry about a breach of confidentiality," Sherlock said.
"In that case, may I ask what your specific function is in the group? You seem like a very intelligent woman, and I would imagine you have a fairly high rank," John said.
"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, darling. But I'll answer your question nonetheless. Specifically, I act as consultant and overall president of the chapter. I make sure everyone is doing what they're supposed to, and they go out in the field and collect data. They come back and interpret the data, but when they need to connect data, that's where I come in. I guess technically, my career could be labelled as being a logician. I make plans and theories for our operations based on logical connections I find. If that makes any sense."
"So, you're like an official version of Sherlock, then," John said, chuckling.
"Pretty much." Abigail smirked at Sherlock, who just glared at John.
"There's actually much more involved with her job, but even I can't figure out what exactly she has to do," Sherlock said, puzzled.
"And that's the way we like to keep it," Abigail said.
At that moment, a mobile phone started ringing.
"Oh, it's mine. Excuse me for a second," Abigail said, stepping out into the corridor.
As soon as she exited the room, John walked back over to Sherlock.
"Can you not see how hot she is? Really? Ugh, and her job is being a logician… I can't handle this anymore. You've got to set us up!"
"I already told you, John. That's your mission. Consider yourself already 'set up' with her. I scheduled a date for you two while we were on the way over here. Just don't get too attached," Sherlock said.
John just stood there with his mouth open, at a loss for words.
Suddenly, Abigail reappeared at the doorway. "Sherlock!" she shouted urgently. "Something's happened back at the club. How could I have been so stupidly led astray?"
"What? What's happened?" Sherlock asked.
"There's been a murder, obviously. What else would have happened during a meeting with an esteemed guest such as yourself?" Abigail snapped.
"Why are you blaming yourself, though?" John interrupted.
"Because it's my responsibility to oversee the general security of the club, as well. We have the best security detail on patrol at all times; I don't see how this could have happened." Abigail had gone from being Sherlock's upbeat friend to a cold, calculating government official.
"I thought you said there was perfect attendance. Nobody left in the middle of the meeting…" Sherlock said, thinking carefully.
"… but tea was a different story. After we'd had a few cups of tea, a few of the ladies left because they'd had another important event to attend. One of them had to have been the victim," Abigail deduced.
"I'd wager you're right about that. Once we've inspected the crime scene, more information will be available so we can track down the murderer," Sherlock said excitedly.
"And then… we bring him to justice!" Abigail had a sparkle in her eye that suggested that she had as much of a love as Sherlock for the science of deduction.
"Not you, too," John sighed. "I feel like the only normal one around here nowadays."
"John, you're coming with us, whether you want to or not," Abigail commanded.
"Yes, ma'am! I wouldn't dare go against a government order!" he said, rolling his eyes.
Abigail and Sherlock raced out the door together, the ends of their similar scarves fluttering behind them. John made sure the flat was locked up properly and ran off after them.