Author's Note: Written for the BBC Sherlock kinkmeme for the prompt: "give me Sherlock passing out meaningful flowers to unsuspecting people please, and maybe one who might know."
Hintersinnig, German: cryptic (adj), cryptically (adv), with a deeper / hidden meaning (adj)
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I.
The flower was an unobtrusive gift, like a thank you, pressed into her hand in return for a cooler full of pancreas. Molly smiled because she wasn't sure what her reaction was supposed to be, her empty hand nervously shifting to fidget with her hair. If Sherlock noticed her confusion, he didn't mention it, but she saw John looking at the flower with mild curiosity.
"I-I've got a date, tonight, you know," she continued, unsure. "Eugene is taking me out to dinner."
John smiled. "Detective Inspector Dimmock? I'm sure you two will have a lovely time—"
"You're sure there are seven in here, Molly? I need precisely seven," Sherlock interrupted, cold gray eyes fixed on her.
Her hand convulsed on the delicate stem of the flower. She nodded. "Exactly seven. I promise."
"Excellent. Come along, John." He swept out of the morgue without a backward glance.
"Right. Well. Have fun on your date tonight, Molly. Let us know how it goes, mm?" Giving her a friendly smile, John hurried to follow Sherlock.
Alone again, Molly looked down at the flower and sighed.
II.
It had been a long day.
Greg wanted to go home, fall into his bed, and sleep for a week. But as always, there was more work to be done, which meant he was taking his poor excuse for supper back to his desk, to be eaten while he looked over paperwork.
The night became decidedly less normal when he found the flower there, resting innocently atop the stack of reports.
He stuck his head out of his office door and found Sally still at her computer. "Donovan, has anyone been in my office?"
She frowned at him over the top of her computer screen. "Yeah, that freak and Dr. Watson came in while you were out. Said they were going to wait for you, but then they left in a bit of a hurry. Why, did he steal something?"
"What? No. No, nothing." She was still watching him suspiciously, but Greg shook his head and shut the door again. If she wanted to believe that Sherlock had done something wrong, he would hardly convince her otherwise. Just to be sure, he glanced through all the recent case files. Nothing was missing.
He tucked the flower in his jacket pocket, and went back to his work.
III.
Mycroft had a strange smile on his face when he got back in the car. Anthea did not look up from her Blackberry to see it, but she knew it was there. It was always there when they drove away from 221B Baker Street.
"We argued again."
She made a small mild noise, as if that was expected. Of course, it was.
"Sometimes he is so stubborn. Foolish. But I believe I have convinced him, to some degree."
Her nails clicked steadily against the small keyboard as she typed.
"He's going to let me deal with that horrid nuisance, for now." This was how he had referred to Moriarty since the incident at the pool. It made him feel better. "He seemed oddly subdued when I left. But then, I'm sure Watson will take care of him."
"White heather," she murmured distractedly.
Mycroft blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"He gave you white heather. You tucked it inside your umbrella." Her eyes never left the small screen.
"Ah, yes. So I did."
Her lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile. She hit send. "Protection from danger."
Mycroft smiled, and nodded, and the car drove on.
IV.
"Now, boys, I was at the store anyway so I picked you up some shopping, you know, I noticed you haven't any food though it's no wonder, what with all the unsavory things in that fridge of yours, but I didn't get you any milk because when I checked you still had plenty, here's the jam, there's a dear…"
John took the shopping bag with a smile. She might continually insist that it wasn't her job to look after them, but Mrs. Hudson seemed incapable of leaving them to their own devices. Not that he minded; it was quite nice to have her bustling about now and then, and he knew that despite her occasional complaints, she secretly enjoyed it.
"Do come down for tea, won't you, John? EastEnders is coming on in an hour."
"I will, Mrs. Hudson, thank you very much."
Sherlock came rushing in just as she reached the door, pressing a small bunch of flowers into her hand and smiling warmly. "My dear Mrs. Hudson, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
She glanced at the flowers and narrowed her eyes at him, but she was still smiling. "Oh, you're incorrigible, you are…" she murmured in amusement, and headed past him down the stairs.
V.
"'Happiness in marriage,' Sherlock?"
"Did she tell you what they meant?"
"No, I looked it up."
"You're so lacking in occupations that you've resorted to researching flowers on the internet? Shouldn't you be updating your blog?"
John arched an eyebrow. Sherlock seemed just a tad too defensive. "I finished my latest post. Was it a joke?"
"That's hardly your business."
"And the flower you gave Molly? What was that one?"
He wrinkled his nose and sat up to glare at John. "Snowdrop."
The doctor started to type. Sighing dramatically, Sherlock waved him off. "It means hope and consolation, don't be such a bother."
"Why that flower in particular?"
"Is it really any of your business?"
John merely smiled.
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock lay back on the couch. "I hope that she has better luck with her new boyfriend."
"…and consolation regarding the previous one. Right." He'd already looked up edelweiss, the flower Sherlock had left on Lestrade's desk two weeks ago. He knew precisely why the DI should be gifted with 'daring and noble courage.' The heather he'd seen Sherlock give to Mycroft made sense, too.
"You're trying not to ask a question. Either ask or stop thinking about it, you're being too loud."
"Sorry. Why the flowers, Sherlock?"
"Am I not allowed?"
"Of course you're allowed, I just—"
He got up and went to the kitchen, and after a moment of silence John heard the quiet steady hiss of the Bunsen burner. He decided to leave it. If Sherlock didn't want to explain, he was unlikely to get a proper answer. Shaking his head, he headed to his room to change for work.
There was a flower lying on his dresser.
His phone beeped.
It's an iris. –SH
I can see that. –JW
Before you waste time looking it up, it means faith, wisdom, valour, and –SH
Sorry, did you hit send before you were done? –JW
Your friendship means so much to me. –SH
VI.
"Want me to check it, boss?"
Jim turned sharply to glare at Sebastian. "It's a flower, idiot. It won't do any harm." He picked it up while his associate apologized, not hearing a word Moran said.
It was burdock, most definitely. Importunity and boredom. Jim grinned. Sherlock was bored. He wanted Moriarty to fix it.
He tucked the flower into his buttonhole, and felt like it matched.
Oh, my dear, be careful what you wish for.
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First: Molly: Snowdrop – hope and consolation
Second: Lestrade: Edelweiss – daring & noble courage
Third: Mycroft: White Heather – protection from danger
Fourth: Mrs. Hudson: Stephanotis – happiness in marriage
Fifth: John: Iris – faith, wisdom, valor, 'your friendship means so much to me'
Sixth: Jim: Burdock – importunity and boredom