A/N: Gods, this entire thing is going to be dialogue-heavy. I'm certainly not the best at writing dialogue, so let me know if you think anything needs fixing/improving. Chapter One is relatively quiet, but then again, the entire story isn't going to have a lot of action. A lot of focus on character interactions because oh gods these characters are too perfect. Chapter Two should be up within a few days.
Famous last words.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, and Harry Watson is just my interpretation of how the character may turn out. (Naturally, I used Catherine Tate as a start because in my mind she is Harry and will be until Harry makes an appearance.) BBC, please don't sue me, I have too much fun writing these things.
Chapter One
Molly was the first to arrive this time, after Mrs Hudson, naturally. She had been in the kitchen of 221B since mid-afternoon, tidying and cooking and baking, much to the annoyance of Sherlock.
John welcomed Molly at the door and brought her upstairs. Sherlock was humming along as he played the violin - a lively tune, this time. He nodded in her direction as she walked in.
"Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? Tea?" John offered.
"That'd be nice, thanks," Molly said, sitting in an armchair. John left the room, joining Mrs Hudson in the kitchen.
"What are you so nervous about?" Sherlock asked, not skipping a beat.
"Pardon?" Molly asked, understandably confused.
"You look nervous, is all. That, and you immediately chose the chair facing the door. Natural defensive trait.
Molly paused.
"After last time, could you really blame me?"
Sherlock was taken off-guard.
"Yes, quite," he said, after a brief pause. "Well-"
"Sherlock, behave!" John called from the kitchen. Sherlock shook his head and sighed.
Molly stood and walked to the kitchen. It was in a state, as usual, but this time it was Mrs Hudson's doing. Gone were the beakers and Bunsen burners and body parts, replaced by flour and sugar and the aroma of roasting pork.
"Wow!" Molly exclaimed. "Where's all of Sherlock's... mess?"
"I'm not sure, dear," Mrs Hudson answered.
"I made him clean up earlier today," John stated.
"And how'd you manage that?" Molly asked.
"I told him I'd get all the groceries for a week."
Molly laughed. "Is there anything I can do to help, Mrs Hudson?" she asked.
"Oh, no dear, you just sit down and relax, I'll be fine," she smiled.
"Are you sure? I don't mind," Molly offered again.
"Sit down, Molly! Your tea will be ready soon," John ordered, laughing. "Sherlock's not that bad, is he?"
"Oh, no, not at all!" she exclaimed, blushing.
"You sit down, dear," Mrs Hudson repeated. "Get him talking, he'll come around soon."
"Come around to what?"
Mrs Hudson just smiled warmly in response and ushered her out of the kitchen.
"So, Sherlock. How have you been?" Molly asked, awkwardly.
"Bored," he responded. "Bored."
"Oh. Well, I'm sure something will come up!"
"Unlikely. There's always a drop in crime rates this time of year. Boring," Sherlock explained as the bell rang. A woman walked up the stairs. She looked to be in her 30s, with mid-length, brown hair. "Harry Watson, I presume?" Sherlock asked.
"However did you guess?" Harry responded. Her tone of voice was flirty, Molly thought. She didn't like it.
"Facial features similar to John's, and you brought a bottle-"
"Harry!" John fortuitously cut in, shooting a quick glare at Sherlock. "You're here!"
"And, you're the only other female invited to come tonight," Sherlock finished. Molly looked up. Perhaps Irene wasn't coming, after all.
"I wasn't expecting a literal answer, genius," Harry responded, grinning. "Is he really always like this?"
"Yes," John responded.
"All the time," Molly answered.
"There's no stopping him!" Mrs Hudson called out from the kitchen. Sherlock looked not even a little bit hurt, grinning instead.
"Harry, you'll have met Sherlock by now," John introduced her. "And this is Molly Hooper; she works in the morgue at Barts. The voice in the kitchen is Mrs Hudson."
"She's your housekeeper?" Harry asked, quickly smiling at Molly.
"Landlady!" Mrs Hudson called out, walking into the lounge. She strode right up to Harry and hugged her. "Oh, look at you! The spitting image of John, aren't you?"
"Oh, thanks a bunch," Harry said, sarcastically. John grinned and shook his head, walking back to the kitchen.
"Drink, Harry? I'm making tea," he offered.
"Tea? Boring!" Harry yelled back. "Here, I've got a bottle!" She strode into the kitchen.
"Harry, are you sure?" John asked, worried.
"Oh, John, stop it. I'll be fine, I swear!" she insisted, pulling out the bottle of brandy. "Even if I drank all of this by myself, I wouldn't get too wasted. I'd need tequila for that."
"Okay, well, fine. But don't drink it all," John said, cautiously, pouring a bit into a glass. "Ice?"
"If I must," Harry sighed.
"Oh, drinking already? It's a bit early for that, isn't it?" Mrs Hudson returned to the kitchen, chattering away.
"It's never too early for a glass of brandy, Mrs Hudson," said Harry, beaming at her, filling the rest of her glass with ice cubes. "Where are the other cups, John?"
"What for?"
"Well, seeing as you've forbidden me from drinking this all myself, I thought I'd offer it round."
"Oh, that's nice of you, but not for me, thanks, Harry. Won't mix well with my herbal soothers. For my hip, you see," Mrs Hudson explained.
"It's fine, Mrs Hudson, I was going to share anyway," Harry responded, flashing a look at John. "And I understand. For your hip, of course," Harry turned toward the lounge. "Brandy, anyone?" she yelled.
"I don't drink!" Sherlock shouted back.
"Figures," Harry muttered to herself. "Molly?"
"Um, I don't know," Molly called back, quietly.
"Oh, go on!"
"Okay, fine, just a small one, please," she asked quietly.
"I'll have one, thanks!" another voice yelled back.
"Who was that?" Harry asked John.
"Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade," John answered. "One of the few people in the New Scotland Yard that will willingly work with Sherlock. Well, willingly probably isn't the right word."
"I'm not surprised," Harry said, quietly smiling. "Righto, Greg!" She called back.
Harry walked out with the brandy shortly after, three glasses in hand, and handed them to Molly and Lestrade. Molly's wasn't small at all, but she didn't say anything about it, accepting it graciously instead.
"You must be John's sister," Lestrade pointed out.
"How observant of you," Harry laughed. "Harriet Watson, pleased to meet you."
"Gregory Lestrade, likewise," Lestrade responded. "I work-"
"With Sherlock, yes, John's been telling me. And how is that?" Harry asked.
"Well, you've met Sherlock. Surely a few minutes in a room with him should give you some idea of what it's like."
"It's far harder for me to work with him," Sherlock interjected. "I'm the one that has to stoop down. You have no idea how irritating it gets."
"See what I mean?" said Lestrade. Harry laughed.
"I think it's somewhat endearing," she said.
"Must run in the family," Lestrade grinned.
John came back out with Molly's tea.
"Oh, you've got a drink already?" he asked.
"Oh, um, yeah. Your sister got it for me," she responded.
"Jeez, John, you were right next to me when I asked her. Weren't you listening?" Harry laughed.
"I was having a rather nice discussion with Mrs Hudson about how quiet it's been lately, thank you very much," John said.
"Ooh, yes, Sherlock's been very disappointed about that, haven't you, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked, sitting on the armchair. Molly had chosen the couch this time around.
"Hm?" mumbled Sherlock, looking up from his violin.
"Mrs Hudson's asking about how bored you've been, Sherlock," Molly explained.
"Oh, yes. Very. Need a good mystery."
"Yes, well, while you're here lamenting the lack of unusual cases, we're just glad no one's dying," said Lestrade.
"But I'm BORED!" Sherlock yelled. The room went silent as everyone stared at him. "Sorry," he apologised, quietly and insincerely, only keeping his promise to John. He sat on the windowsill and returned to playing violin.
