(A/N) In which Lexi and Sherlock enter the fray of what Lexi likes to call "The Case of the Killer Cabbie." How will John and Sherlock fair against Lexi and how will John deal with getting caught up in the chaos?
Song that inspired the chapter which I do recommend you listen to: Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ya! by Dropkick Murphys.
Chapter Two- The Game Is On
"'Come, Watson, come!' he cried. 'The game is afoot.'"― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
I had returned home the day before in a rather good mood. I contemplated whether or not I was actually going to look at the flat with the two men. I had finally decided that I was going to show up. The worst that could happen was that I found out that both men were psychopathic murders. I trusted my judge of character however and my trust in Mike that he wouldn't introduce me to two men that could potentially harm me. John was a military man and his hesitation at Sherlock's offer until he got more information out of the man meant he was more of the cautious type. I really liked John and it didn't happen too often that I found someone that I could instantly decide I liked. I would be surprised to see if he would come or not. I think curiosity would win out with him. Sherlock on the other hand was just plain rude if his treatment of Molly was any indication, but beyond that he seemed like someone I could get along with. He was so much like someone else I knew too and I had learnt how to deal with him pretty quickly. I actually found his delivery oddly refreshing.
I hated people who were fake to your face because they thought it was too rude to tell you the blatant truth. I would rather someone come straight out and tell me exactly what was on their mind rather than try and spare my feelings by being fake. If I liked you I showed it and if I didn't like you, you defiantly knew it. The world would be so much easier to understand if people stopped beating around the bush and actually spoke their minds. Not everyone saw it that way though. Sherlock either didn't care what people thought about him, which was why he spoke the way he wanted to, or he really didn't realize that what he was doing might be considered to be hurtful by some people.
Growing up I learnt that being the way I am, seeing the world differently than most, it had its cost. I saw the puzzles in everything, they were everywhere and people were the most brilliant puzzles. Like John who had been injured in war, but missed the battlefield and Sherlock who was just one large puzzle that even I couldn't understand fully. Once I would start looking, it was always impossible to stop looking for the next puzzle, something to occupy my mind with. People, all the deceits and disillusions in everything they did, everything that made up their lives were some of the most interesting puzzles I could find. Not everyone appreciated seeing as such. It was a lonely way to live to be sure, but that was just the cost of being able to see what others missed. Well, may people saw, but did not observe.
I felt envy for those who could go through life not seeing the connections I saw. When I looked at someone, I could always deduce everything about them. Sure, every now and then I would make a mistake, but that was rare. I wanted to be able to meet someone and get to know them without knowing everything about them from a first glance. I actually wanted to take the time to get to know someone. Sherlock, I didn't know everything about him. Some things were easy to deduce of course, but he remained a puzzle to me. I was intrigued by him because of this, because for once I didn't know everything about someone I had met. I only knew one other person I couldn't fully understand who still surprised me often. I knew Sherlock suffered the same lonely existence I did. That was apparent by the way he had told Mike that it would be hard to find him a flat mate.
I was curious to see if John would turn up or not. To him, Sherlock and I must be the strangest people he had ever met. Even he gave me the same looks as everyone else did after meeting me. Mike had gotten used to my personality. Molly didn't really seem to mind my strangeness, but after seeing how Sherlock acted around her, she was probably too used to it by now. I acted the way I did because of many years of being on my own, many years where I was pushed around for just being myself. I kind of hoped that John would turn up, though he had many reasons why he shouldn't. I just had this feeling that something good could come out of knowing him and Sherlock. My interest in Sherlock had led to me doing an internet search on his name. The one thing I had found of note was a website called the Science of Deduction which I found out was one he used for cases. He also had a few things posted on the site such as mysterious messages in code sent to him by an Anonymous stalker. I added that fun little fact to the long list I was compiling on anything odd or interesting about Sherlock Holmes in my attempt to figure him out.
I'm Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective.
I'm not going to go into detail about how I do what I do because chances are you wouldn't understand. If you've got a problem that you want me to solve, then contact me. Interesting cases only please.
This is what I do:
1. I observe everything.
2. From what I observe, I deduce everything.
3. When I've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem, must be the truth.
If you need assistance, contact me and we'll discuss its potential.
Someone was slightly egotistical. "I'm not going to go into detail about how I do what I do because chances are you wouldn't understand," I said to myself in a mock impression of Sherlock's deep baritone. It didn't come out nearly as perfect as I would have liked due to my high soprano which currently had a bit of an Irish lilt to it in my tired state. I snorted to myself and rolled my eyes at my computer screen. Let him try that one on me. I'm not saying I am not a tad bit egotistical myself. I wasn't known for always being modest, but it was just the way he was so full of himself. That might need a little bit of work. Interesting cases only? I laughed, actually laughed, at that. Yeah there had to be tons of those in London. I should know, I remembered some of the cases I had been approached with in the past. I liked what he said though, he observed everything, deduced from what he observed, and once he eliminated what couldn't be, whatever crazy thing left over had to be the answer.
Well, whether it was a good idea or not I was going to check out this flat with them on Baker Street. It wasn't like I had to make a decision to take the flat or not right now. I would at show up and check the place out. Even living with two wackos would be better than where I was currently living. I swept my eyes over my flat which had books, papers, and boxes in just about every inch of available room. I had more case boxes stored away in the attic. This place was depressing to look at. I looked into the kitchen where my chemistry equipment was set up and sighed. I needed a place I could actually do some work in. This place was cheap, which was the only reason I had taken it. Sharing rent with two flat mates would mean I could move out of here and into a better place. I needed a fresh start. I needed to start getting my life back together. It had been four years and I was still avoiding everything that reminded me of my old life. What the hell? It couldn't hurt anything if I got to know two more people and it certainly seemed like Sherlock and John might be a little bit different than anyone I had ever met before.
At six thirty the next evening I had already made my way out of my flat and hailed a cab over to Baker Street. I was dressed similarly to the day before, but I had left my hair flowing down around me rather than tying it back. I fidgeted in my seat on the short ride over to Baker Street. I was actually excited to be seeing the two men again. John was interesting to talk to and I had yet to actually talk to Sherlock. I preferred to stay silent when I was observing people. It would be interesting to see how he acted today when he was not necessarily working. I smiled widely to myself as the cab pulled up along the curbing next to the door of 221B just as Sherlock was getting out of the cab in front of mine. I paid the cabbie and thanked him as I slid out of the cab and stepped out onto the street. John was standing over by the door marked 221B as I walked over to join him with a wide grin plastered on my face. I was glad that John had turned up after all. I was right, his curiosity over the two of us had ultimately won out.
"Hello," Sherlock greeted us as he reached through the window of his cab and handed some money to the cab driver. "Thank you," He said as John and I turned to face him as he walked over to us.
"Ah, Mr. Holmes. Ms. MacKenna," John greeted us as he offered Sherlock his hand. I wrinkled my nose when John called me Ms. MacKenna. I hadn't been called that for a while and I had swiftly put an end to that. Ms. MacKenna made me sound old. Granted I was thirty-one, but I didn't like all of the formalities. I had been raised by them and that was a period of my life that I wanted to forget.
"Sherlock, please," He responded as they shook hands. Men, I would never fully understand them. They had so many customs, so many little things I had observed them doing. There were certain unspoken rituals that men seemed to have when greeting each other that every man understood. It was the same thing with women though. The unspoken warning to other women over a man that had already been claimed. The way women could act nice to each other for all the public to see while they both mutual hated one another, their silent comments unheard, but certainly understood. These observable transactions were some of the most interesting puzzles that remained to be solved. I doubted that I would ever truly understand men, but I wasn't meant to though. This was going to be interesting, living with two men. It would probably be interesting for them to be living with me. I was told I was a hard to handle, not that I believed it.
"Just Lexi," I told both men as I shook their hands in turn with a pleasant smile on my face. This might not actually be too bad. They both seemed rather nice. If anything they were a step up from my sleazy landlord so that was something at least. It might take some time getting used to, but as long as they didn't mind my tendency to sing opera or the fact that I often displayed some rather bad habits due to my Irish heritage, we should all get along perfectly well without killing one another.
"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive," John commented as he looked around the street. I nodded my head in agreement. This flat was certainly in a better part of London than my flat was. The perks of being Sherlock Holmes.
"Oh, Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out," Sherlock told us and I raised one of my eyebrows at him in amusement. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?" John asked him confused as I smiled beside him. Oh this was just perfect. I quiet possibly had just found another person I would like right away.
"Oh no. I ensured it," He answered John with a smile as the front door opened to reveal the aforementioned Mrs Hudson. She opened her arms up to the younger man with a smile on her face.
"Sherlock, hello," She greeted him as Sherlock turned and walked into her arms. He hugged her briefly before steeping back to introduce the two of us. I wasn't overly surprised by this display of affection even if it was coming from Sherlock. This Mrs. Hudson seemed like the mothering type.
"Mrs Hudson, Doctor John Watson and Lexi MacKenna," Sherlock introduced us as he pointed us out in turn to the elderly woman. I smiled brightly back at her. For once I didn't try to deduce someone I had just met. Of course that didn't mean that I didn't notice a lot more about the woman that an average person wouldn't, I just didn't put effort into trying to deduce her.
"Hello," Mrs Hudson greeted us with a warm smile. Yup, I liked her, there was no decision that even had to be made. I was starting to think that meeting Sherlock and John was not an accident. It was like fate had finally brought us together.
"How do?" John greeted her as he shook her hand. Again with the formalities. Maybe I just had a problem with it because I was a very informal sort of person. Ugh, there was no way I was going to be all formal around them. They would have to learn to deal with me sometime and now seemed like a good time to get acquainted with what someone had once called my "bombshell" of a personality.
"Come in," Mrs Hudson said as she gestured for us to enter. Shooing us inside out of the cold, London air.
"Thank you," John told her as he stepped inside of 221B leaving Sherlock and I standing next to each other outside of the door.
"Shall we?" Sherlock asked me as he gestured for me to enter before him.
"I think so," I answered him with a smile as I stepped over the threshold. Mrs. Hudson closed the door behind us as Sherlock passed by me in the hallway his shoulder brushing against mine even though there was plenty of room. It was almost like he was judging my reaction to being close to people. He looked back at me briefly before he trotted up the stairs to the first floor. He paused and waited for the two of us to join him. John started up the stairs as Mrs. Hudson greeted me.
"Hello dear," She said as she gave me a motherly hug. I smiled at the woman as she released me. It had been a long time since I had been given such a warm hug. Yeah, Mike hugged me some times in greeting, but those were fleeting hugs of companionship. I hadn't been given a hug that felt affectionate in such a long time.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you," I told Mrs. Hudson with a bright smile. I could see why even Sherlock seemed to warm to this woman. There was no way you couldn't love her immediately. She tittered away for a second longer over me before pushing me toward the stairs. I quickly ascended the stairs meeting John at the top of the stairs just as he reached the first floor. Sherlock opened the door ahead of him and walked through, revealing the living room of the flat.
John and I followed him through the door and we looked around the room together. I smiled as I saw the possessions and boxes scattered around the room in a sort of organized chaos. I found the mess rather homely. It made the place actually looked lived in rather than kept neat like a show room. A home was supposed to be lived in, not be put on display. Actually, it kind of reminded me of my own flat. I always liked things scattered about rather than organized into its "proper" place. It was like a visual representation of the way my brain worked. Scattered and unorganized, but I could find everything I was looking for.
"Well, this could be very nice," John commented as I walked past him into the living and looked around the clutter at all of the odds and ends. There was a stack of books on a desk and I ran my hand over the spines reading the titles. There were books on subjects ranging from bee keeping to chemistry in the stack. Well at least we had something in common. I made a metal note of that as I continued exploring his possessions. Each one provided me a clue to the character of Sherlock Holmes.
"Very nice. Perfect. I am absolutely loving this," I said with a smile as I straightened up and turned around. My eyes scanned the room before falling on the violin we had been warned about. Well, it seemed like Sherlock might not mind my viola playing. His violin looked to be in good condition. I made the same assumption about it as I had his scarf. It was reasonably old, but well cared for which meant it was a possession that Sherlock prized above the rest of his things.
"Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely," Sherlock stated as he looked around the flat happily. It was the first time I had ever seen the man actually smile. It was a good look on him, I mused. That would be my experiment, I would try to see what I could to get Sherlock Holmes to smile.
"So I went straight ahead and moved in," He continued as John simultaneously said "Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out ... Oh." He paused, embarrassed as he realized what Sherlock was saying and I held back my giggle at his blunder. Nice one Watson, I thought as a grin spread over my face.
"So this is all ...," John remarked uncomfortably as he took in the clutter around the room. Yes, the room was a little disorganized, but that was easily taken care of. He should see my flat if he thought this was bad. Actually, he shouldn't. I had some things lying around the place that might scare him off. Like the sword…hmmm I would have to find a place to put that. Maybe Sherlock would let me hang it up over the mantel. That could work.
"Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit," Sherlock said as he walked across the room and made a half-hearted attempt to tidy up a little. He threw a couple of folders into a box and then took some apparently unopened envelopes across to the fireplace where he proceeded to put them onto the mantelpiece and then stab a multi tool knife into them. That was as good a letter box as any, of course people looked at you funny when you went to pay bills and they had large stab marks in them. Not that I knew from experience….
"I actually like the clutter. It's sort of like an organized mess. Very homey," I remarked with a grin and I noticed the small smile that graced Sherlock's face. Sherlock Homes zero, me one. Not like Sherlock actually knew that I would be keeping score for the amount of times I was able to make him smile. It was then that I was interrupted in my musings by John who lifted up his cane to point at something on the mantelpiece that I had somehow yet to notice.
"That's a skull," He remarked and I looked to where he was pointing to find that there was indeed a skull on the corner of the mantelpiece. Please tell me it was real! I could just see getting Sherlock to do a whole Shakespeare rendition for me. Not like that was probably ever going to happen.
"A wonderful observation Watson," I muttered under my breath with a hint of a smile in my voice. Sherlock as it appeared seem to hear me given the fact that he smirked at my comment, but thankfully John seemed oblivious to the fact that I had said anything.
"Friend of mine. When I say 'friend'...,"Sherlock told him as I crossed the room and picked up the skull in one hand. Sherlock was looking me in a manner that if looks could kill I might possibly be dead. I ignored him as I stared at the skull and adopted a Shakespearean pose. I cleared my throat before I pulled the most serious expression I could muster.
"Alas poor Yorrick… I knew him well," I recited dramatically before putting it back in its proper place with a little giggle. Best not to push Sherlock too far. I could now cross that off of my "Always Wanted to Do" list. I heard John cover up a laugh with a none to convincing cough behind me. Smooth Watson, real smooth. When I looked back Sherlock was looking at me with an expression that was a cross between annoyance and perplexity. Bless his heart, he had yet to see the extent of my behavior.
It was now that Mrs Hudson made her appearance. She picked up a cup and saucer that Sherlock had left on a table while the man in question took off his greatcoat and scarf and hug them up behind the door. "What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? Ms. MacKenna? There's two other bedrooms, one upstairs and one down, if you'll be needing three bedrooms,"Mrs Hudson said as she looked at the two of us expectantly.
"Of course we'll be needing three," John told her and I snorted at the exact implications of Mrs Hudson's words. Could this woman be any more amazing? It was amusing to watch John get so completely uncomfortable with a situation. She either thought I was in a relationship with John or Sherlock or that John and Sherlock were in a relationship.
"Oh, don't worry; there's all sorts round here," Mrs. Hudson told us confidentially before lowering her voice to a whisper at the end of her sentence. "Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones and I know how young people are these days living together before marriage," Mrs. Hudson nodded as she tried to figure out the nature of our relationships with each other.
John looked across the room to Sherlock as if expecting him to confirm that they were not involved in that way, but Sherlock appeared oblivious to what Mrs. Hudson was insinuating. John looked back at me for help and I only shrugged before looking at Mrs. Hudson. "Well I've never tried polygamy before and I doubt John or Sherlock want to try bisexual polygamy. I'll let you know if that ever changes though," I told the woman as I crossed over to the other side of the room. John looked at me flabbergasted and started spluttering as his cheeks grew slightly pink. I only shrugged at him again as I looked at the things Sherlock had lying out. Sherlock and I looked up at each other for a brief moment, both of us smirking at each other as Mrs. Hudson walked across to the kitchen. I looked up at her just as she turned back and frowned at Sherlock.
"Oh, Sherlock. The mess you've made," She scolded him before she went into the kitchen and started to tidy it up a bit. I glanced into the kitchen and saw that the kitchen table was covered in chemistry equipment. Hmm maybe I could get Sherlock to let me use some of his equipment for my own experiments. Doing experiments at the kitchen table didn't look like it was going to be a problem around Sherlock.
John walked over to one of the two arm chairs in the room and plumped the cushion on the chair before dropping heavily down into it. He looked across the room at Sherlock who is still tidying up a little though now it was more for show than an actual attempt and clearing anything up. "I looked you up on the internet last night," John said suddenly and I turned briefly to look at him as I picked up a book from the stack on bee keeping and flipped through the pages with interest.
"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked him abandoning his attempt and cleaning as he turned around.
"Found your website, The Science of Deduction."
"What did you think?" Sherlock asked him smiling proudly as I closed the book and placed it back on the top of the stack. I walked over to the other empty arm chair and sat myself down on it, crossing my legs at the knee. I folded my hands on top of my knees before looking between both men to watch their conversation with one eyebrow raised in interest.
John threw Sherlock a "you have got to be kidding me" type of look and I watched as Sherlock's face fell. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb."
"Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone," Sherlock responded snappishly.
"How?" John asked him incredulously. Sherlock smiled and turned away from him. I knew that smugness anywhere, it was a look that had graced my own face on many occasions.
"I rather liked your website. I particularly found your analysis of tobacco ash fascinating," I said as I lounged back into the chair kicking my legs up over the arm. Sherlock and John turned to look at me. John looked at me in exasperation while Sherlock smirked at me but before he could respond Mrs. Hudson walked out of the kitchen reading the newspaper.
"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same," Mrs. Hudson said as Sherlock walked over to the window of the living room and looked down at the street below. I heard the sounds of a car pulling up outside.
As Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock were the only to people who currently lived at 221B and I was quiet sure that Mrs. Hudson wasn't expecting any visitors that could only mean that the person who had just arrived was coming to see Sherlock. Given the nature of his profession that person was probably from the police. Three serial suicides and now someone from the police was coming to visit the world's only consulting detective. That could only mean one thing.
"Four," Sherlock and I said in unison as I got to my feet. I had never seen someone turn around faster than he did in that moment. "There's been a fourth," I continued ignoring the looks that were being sent my way by three pairs of eyes.
"Yes, and there's something different this time," Sherlock said after a moment. He continued to watch me closely almost as if it was the first time he had actually looked at me.
"A fourth?" Mrs. Hudson asked the two of us sounding completely confused. It was then that we all heard the door opening down stairs before the sound of loud footfalls could be heard coming up the stairs. A second later an old friend I knew quiet well walked into the door.
"Where?" Sherlock asked D.I. Lestrade barely even giving him a second to catch his breath.
"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade told him as I watched the man casually waiting for him to take notice of me.
"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different," Sherlock asked him sounding if anything slightly annoyed. I could tell that he was secretly pleased that Lestrade had come to him with a case. He had been waiting for this.
"You know how they never leave notes?" Lestrade told him sounding extremely tired. The lines on his face provided all the evidence I needed to deduce that he was nearing his breaking point.
"Yeah."
"This one did," Lestrade told him. I put my hands on my hips and raised one of my eyebrows before clearing my throat. Lestrade and Sherlock both looked in my direction as I mock glared at Lestrade.
"Are you just going to stand there and ignore me Greg? I would have thought you missed me more than that. I haven't seen you in forever! Don't I even get a hug?" I asked him with a fake note of hurt in my voice. The man stared at me looking completely dumbfounded. Yeah, I had that effect on people.
"Lexi? What the hell are you doing here? No, wait, don't tell me. I don't think I even want to know," Lestrade said as he ran a hand down his face and sighed tiredly. I laughed at his disgruntled expression before I skipped over to his side and smacked him playfully on the arm.
"Aww you know you've missed me. Come here," I said before I pulled the man into a hug. He returned it awkwardly as Sherlock cleared his throat behind us. I pulled away from my hug and looked back at Sherlock with a pout. Nobody interrupted me when I was getting my hug on, not even Sherlock Holmes. I stuck my tongue out at him. I knew it was childish, but I didn't care.
"You two know each other?" Sherlock remarked with one raised eyebrow as he pointed between the two of us. I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes as I snorted loudly.
"No shit Sherlock. I just go around hugging random people I don't know," I told him with an exasperated look before giggling at his irritated expression he had thrown my way.
"Lexi used to work with me on cases when you were absent," Lestrade explained to Sherlock as I smiled madly beside him. It had been a while since I had seen Greg. Of course, I really didn't have a reason for going to see him much these days. There were the occasional social visits, but those were few and far between lately. Sherlock stared blankly back at the two of us as Lestrade looked pointedly at me. "Any chance I can get you to come along and take a look?"
"Greg," I whined with a roll of my eyes. "I don't consult anymore, you know that," I told him as I crossed my arms and fixed him with a stern look. I didn't work cases for a reason and he knew it. The last case I had worked on had been the reason I had left. I didn't like talking about it either.
"All the same, I would really appreciate it if you would come along. I need you Lexi, God help me I need you," Lestrade tried again trying to appeal to my interest. I had to admit this case was interesting. Three serial suicides and then finally a note. I groaned inwardly, I just couldn't resist. "Will you come?" Lestrade asked turning away from me and directing his question at Sherlock.
"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked him seeming to recover from whatever thing had been going on with him since Lestrade had announced that I had used to work on cases with him.
"It's Anderson," Lestrade told us reluctantly. Well that just killed any chance he had of getting me to possibly agree to coming to take a look for him.
"Anderson won't work with me," Sherlock and I said in unison as we both grimaced. Sherlock shot me an annoyed look and I raised an eyebrow at him in response. He was in for a real wakeup call if he thought he was the only genius in the room. I didn't like to boast, but I was intelligent.
"Well, he won't be your assistant," Lestrade said trying to defuse the tension between Sherlock and me. He could glare at me all he wanted to. Most people probably backed down under the look he was giving me, but I only smiled back at him looking completely innocent.
"I need an assistant," Sherlock complained. I snorted at him before turning back to look at Greg. Against my better judgment I was at least going to go and take a look at the crime scene. If anything it would at least annoy Sherlock. And…it would be good for me though I was loath to admit it.
"Will you come?" Lestrade asked us again. I felt bad for the guy, he seemed rather desperate for the help. The fact that he was even asking me when he knew that I didn't work cases anymore meant that he really was out of his depth.
"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind," Sherlock answered him. Lestrade looked at me waiting for an answer and I sighed heavily. If I told him yes I would have a harder time saying no to him in the future. If I said no it would only give Sherlock smug satisfaction because he would think I was backing off. I was not going to give him that satisfaction. Damn Sherlock bloody Holmes.
"I'll come, but you owe me," I finally told Lestrade who smiled at me smugly.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," Lestrade teased me and I narrowed my eyes at him in a glare.
"This doesn't change anything Lestrade. I'll come look at the crime scene, but this does not mean I am coming back," I warned the man as I poked him in the chest. He chuckled at me like he always did when he knew I wasn't actually angry. He had seen my anger before, he claimed I could make grown men cry.
"Sure you're not. Our usual?" Lestrade asked me as I sighed as I gave in.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll ride with Sherlock," I told him as I waved him off. There was no way I was showing up in a police car. Anderson would have a field day with that one.
"Thank you," Lestrade told me with a grin before looking at John and Mrs. Hudson for a moment and nodding briefly. He turned around and hurried off back down the stairs. As soon as the door slammed shut down stairs Sherlock leaped into the air and clenched his fists triumphantly before twirling around the room happily.
"Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" He exclaimed as he picked up his scarf and coat and pulled them on as he headed into the kitchen. I raised my eyebrow at him. Well, this would prove to be rather interesting. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food," Sherlock called from the kitchen as I sighed heavily. I shook my head before turning around and trudging down the stairs to wait for Sherlock by the front door. What had I let Lestrade get me into?
"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper," I heard Mrs. Hudson reminding Sherlock as I left the flat. You tell him, Mrs. H.
"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" I heard Sherlock call from the flat before he appeared at the top of the stairs and bolted down them. His excited expression faded when he saw me at the bottom of the stairs. I made my face an expressionless mask as I stared back at Sherlock. "You used to work with Lestrade?" Sherlock asked me the question I knew he wanted more of an explanation for.
"Yes, it was around seven years ago. There had been a case in the news, a serial killer case. The police were farther out of their depth than ever. I showed up in Lestrade's office. Gave him quiet a scare too. I worked with him on that case and he ended up calling me back to consult on a few more for him. After a while I was getting calls all the time. I left working on cases about four years ago," I explained to Sherlock knowing that he would figure everything out sooner or later.
"That would be around the time you were struggling with your addiction?" Sherlock asked me looking emotionless.
"Yes. I'm assuming your absence that Lestrade spoke about was when you were struggling with you own?" I answered him as ran a hand through my hair letting my curls flow through my fingertips. Sherlock nodded in response after a second.
"I don't need your help," He finally said and I snorted. No beating around the bush for this bloke. His bluntness didn't faze me in the least bit.
"Well I don't need you either sunshine, but Lestrade asked me to take a look so you'll just have to deal with it Lock," I told him with a sweet smile as I brushed my hair behind my ears. He was probably used to people backing off, well, he would have to get used to me encroaching upon his territory. If Lestrade wanted me there than I would help whether Sherlock liked it or not. Sherlock and I stared back at each other in stony silence, challenging one another. I could do this all day.
Damn my leg!" We heard John shout suddenly from the living room and we both turned to look back of the stairs. I heard John start apologizing to Mrs. Hudson for his outburst. Sherlock turned back to look at me with this expression in his eyes that looked like he was planning something. Nothing good ever came out of a look like that.
"What do you think of John?" Sherlock asked me suddenly and I looked at him with a calculating eye. I clicked my tongue to the roof of my mouth as I cocked my head to the right in thought.
"Army doctor, loyal. He misses the danger. I noticed it yesterday. There's a tremor in his left hand, but not all of the time. There's also the fact that his limp is psychosomatic. Why?" I asked Sherlock though I was quiet certain I already knew where he was going with his line of questioning.
"I need an assistant. Besides he needs to get out. It will cure that bloody limp of his," Sherlock pointed out and I nodded in agreement. Watson did need to get out and get back into the work, it would be good for him. I frowned thoughtfully, was I describing John or myself?
"I think he'll be perfect," I told Sherlock as we both smiled mischievously at each other as Sherlock offered me his hand. I eyed it quizzically. We had just gone from challenging one another to this.
"We'll cure him of that infernal limp together. Deal?" He asked me while raising one of his own eyebrows in challenge.
"Deal," I told him meeting his challenge as we shook hands. We turned around and trotted back up the stairs together side by side. It seemed as if Sherlock and I had come to an agreement of mutual respect for one another. I still couldn't deduce him completely, but it would appear that Sherlock had accepted the fact that he was going to have to work with me on this case. I still wasn't going to make things easy for him.
"You're a doctor. In fact you're an Army doctor," Sherlock said as soon as we entered the living room again. I crossed my arms and popped my hip to the right as I stood next to Sherlock. It really irritated me that he was still four inches taller than I was and I only reached his shoulder. It made me look a lot less daunting than he was.
"Yes," John said upon taking notice of us. He got to his feet and turned towards the two of us as we walked over to John and stood in front of him.
"Any good?" I asked John with a raised eyebrow. I caught Sherlock smirking out of the corner of my eye as he caught on to what I was doing. I was trying to goad him into taking the bait.
"Very good," John told me as he met my challenge.
"Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths?" Sherlock asked him carrying on our duel interrogation.
"Mmm, yes."
"Bit of trouble too, I bet," I said as Sherlock caught my eye and we shared a look for a brief moment. We had him already.
"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much," John said quietly as if he was trying to convince himself. He couldn't resist it though. He missed the danger of the chase far too much to back down.
"Wanna see some more?" Sherlock asked him as I tried to hide my smile. We were good, actually we made a pretty good team. My evening just got really interesting all of a sudden.
"Oh God, yes," John told us fervently without a second's thought. Sherlock and I turned on our heels and headed back down the stairs as John followed after us. Sherlock and I allowed ourselves to glace at each other briefly to smile at our triumph.
"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out," John called out as he hurried down the stairs after us. I rolled my eyes at the sound of his cane hitting the steps. We were going to have to cure that really quickly because the tapping was just a tad bit annoying.
"The three of you?" Mrs. Hudson asked in confusion as she stood at the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock and I had almost reached the door, but he quickly turned and walked back towards her. I waited for him with my hand on the door knob as I watched his excitement return. He had mood swings that were almost as bad as mine…almost.
"Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" Sherlock told her as he took her by the shoulders and kissed her noisily on the cheek.
"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent," Mrs. Hudson said unable to hide her smile as she looked over at me and saw my expression was much like Sherlock's. Sherlock turned away from her walked back over to me as I threw open the door and walked out to curbing
"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!" Sherlock called in the door way before he walked out and stopped by my side. He attempted to hail an approaching black cab. "Taxi!" He cried holding his arm out, but the cabbie only drove on as John came out to join us by the curb.
"Oh for god's sakes," I said before stepping out further and whistling shrilly to catch the attention of another approaching cab. The taxi pulled up alongside and I looked back at Sherlock and John. John looked amused, but Sherlock looked irritated. "Being a woman has its advantages," I remarked to John as Sherlock got into the back seat of the cab as soon as it slowed down enough.
I slid in after him with a smirk on my face before John got in next to me and shut the door. It was a bit of a tight fit, but we would manage. Sherlock shouted the address at the cabbie who pulled out back onto the road and started to head for Brixton. We said it companionable silence for a long time while Sherlock pulled out his smartphone and fixed his eyes on it. I pulled out my own phone and texted a quick message to Lestrade that we were on our way over. John kept shooting us nervous glances and finally Sherlock lowered his mobile beside me and looked past me at John.
"Okay, you've got questions," He said as I continued to work on my mobile by bringing up articles from the paper about the last three suicides to try and gather as much information as I could about the case before we arrived. I had been loosely following the case, but I hadn't been paying as much attention as I normally would have if I had been planning to work on it myself.
"Yeah, where are we going?" John asked us and I sighed as I worked on my phone.
"Crime scene, obviously. Next?" I asked John without looking up from my phone. I glanced at Sherlock out of the corner of my eye and caught him smirking at me.
My phone trilled my text alert and I swiped my phone to check my messages. "Where are you going?" The text read. I groaned inwardly, I didn't want to be doing this right now.
"Crime scene. I'm doing Lestrade a favor. -L" I texted back simply. That explanation probably wasn't going to fly though. The trill of my text alert a second later confirmed my theory. I ignored the text message. I would probably regret doing so later, but I couldn't handle him on top of Sherlock right now.
"Who are you two? What do you two do?" John asked us before looking at me and continuing. "You said you were a writer, but you used to work for the police."
"Well, not a writer. Not exactly anyway," I remarked as I lowered my phone from a brief second. It trilled in my hand again and I looked down at it with a glare. I deleted the text messages I had received. I would deal with the consequences later.
"What do you think?" Sherlock asked John as my phone trilled again. Well someone was being a persistent little bugger.
"I'd say private detectives...," John said slowly hesitating in his response. This is exactly what I was worried about, I was getting roped back into what I had done before. I groaned inwardly. I knew this was going to happen. This was why I always refused to go and just take a look at a crime scene for Greg, but no, I had to be an idiot and agree to come because I wanted to prove to Sherlock that he wasn't the only one who could make deductions.
"But?" I asked John as my phone trilled again. I angrily unlocked it and hit the buttons deleting the text message.
"... but the police don't go to private detectives," John finished as he looked at me and then at my phone which started ringing at that precise moment. I ignored the call quickly.
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job," Sherlock answered John as I grumbled under my breath. The next case Sherlock was going to be solving was a murder in which I was the killer. I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair before looking up at John.
"I did work like Sherlock before, only I never really gave myself a title," I explained to John before turning back to like at Sherlock. "I like that, consulting detective. It has a nice ring to it."
'What does that mean?" John asked us sounding even more confused than before if that was possible.
"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me." Sherlock told him before adding almost reluctantly. "Or Lexi."
"Not any more. I'm only doing Lestrade a favor," I reminded Sherlock as my phone trilled again I brought it up to my face and stared at it murderously. This was beyond childish now. Did he not get the message that I wasn't in the mood to talk with him right now?
"The police don't consult amateurs," John said as both men watched me in curiosity over my little display of aggression. I looked up from my phone and raised an eyebrow at John as Sherlock threw him a look that mirrored my own.
"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised," Sherlock remarked as I thought about the ways I could kill someone and get away with it.
"Yes, Lexi asked me that question first and then you. How did you two know? You said you could deduce people? Is that just a game with Mike?" John asked us directing his last question at me. I noticed Sherlock throw a look my way. It was a mixture of surprise and quite possibly of loathing at having been shown up.
"No, it's not a game. Ever since I was a child I took to observing people. Through simple observations you can deduce almost anything about a person. People give away more than they think, especially when they think someone isn't watching them," I explained to John in the best way possible. I had been a lonely child and spent a lot of my time just watching people. No one suspected a child and most times I had witnessed people doing something that they wouldn't if another adult was watching. Of course no one had any idea that I was deducing them. Maybe that was how Sherlock had felt growing up? Not many people wanted to be friends with me after I deduced them, but as a child I hadn't known that it wasn't normal what I could do.
"And you? How did you know?" John asked Sherlock after a moment's contemplation over my explanation. Sherlock was staring at me questioningly. I could see the silent questions he longed to be answered as he studied my face for any traces of emotion that would give away my feelings on the subject. I put on my poker face and remained and emotionless mask. If he had a question for me he could ask it instead of deducing the answer.
"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so Army doctor, obvious," Sherlock told him before I decided to cut in and share my own deductions I had made about John. People were easy enough to read once you knew what to look for. In the case of Sherlock, I could deduce the most basic things off of him. He wasn't a people person, mostly because he thought others were of a lower intelligence to himself. While I shared his aversion to having long conversations with people who made stupid comments, I could stand the company of others for at least a short period of time. Sherlock was a recovering addict like I was. He didn't get along well with his family. He had an older sibling, one he regarded with loathing, though I had the sneaking suspicious that he harbored a secret fondness of sorts for them. Other than that I couldn't deduce anything more about him. He would be my own personal challenge. I would figure out exactly who Sherlock Holmes was.
"Your face is tanned but you don't have a tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not for sunbathing," I remarked before Sherlock continued on with his explanation after throwing me an irritated look at my having interrupted his deductions.
"Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan…Afghanistan or Iraq," Sherlock finished loudly clicking the 'k' sound at the end of the final word. I nodded at him in silent agreement and smiled when he continued to look at me with an irritated expression on his face. He would learn to love me really quickly, especially if we became flat mates.
"You said I had a therapist."
"You've got a psychosomatic limp John, of course you've got a therapist," I told him as I patted his shoulder comfortingly. I really liked John which was rather odd for me. I didn't normally develop close attachments towards people so quickly. John was different though and he seemed not to mind my behavior…yet.
"Then there's your brother," Sherlock interjected breaking me out of my thoughts about the man we were deducing.
"Hmm?" John asked him sounding confused as he looked away from me and at Sherlock. He had been studying me closely since my slight attempt at comforting him. It wasn't something I was used to doing, but it seemed to work since John seemed more at ease. Maybe I wasn't so bad at it like I thought I was.
Sherlock held his hand out to John across my chest. "Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flat share, you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then," He said as John gave him the phone. He turned it over in his hands and looked it over as he talked. "Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to Lexi wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already."
"The engraving," John said slowly as I held my hand out to Sherlock and made as gesture for him to give me the phone. He sighed heavily before dropping it into my waiting hand. I turned over the phone, studying it and making my own deductions about it. I turned it over and read the engraving on the back.
Harry Watson
From Clara
xxx
"Harry Watson, clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently, this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then, six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he would have kept it. People do… sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you. That says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help, that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don't like his drinking," Sherlock continued with his deductions. Very impressive. Of course he was a lot more long winded than I was.
"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" John asked him completely baffled. I answered him before Sherlock could.
"It was a shot in the dark. A very good one though," I complimented Sherlock who smiled smugly at me as I showed John the phone. "The power connection. You see, there's tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You'd never see those marks on a sober man's phone and you'd never see a drunk's without them," I explained to John as I handed him back his phone.
"Now yours," Sherlock started as his gaze turned to me. "You've received five texts and a phone call from someone in just a few minutes, but you've ignored all of them. So, someone you aren't fond of talking to at the present time," Sherlock continued as I handed him over my phone. He flipped it over in his hands studying it carefully. "This was a gift, someone wanted you to stay in touch, presumably the person who is persistently trying to reach you. Not a romantic attachment, you'd answer them right away, but you've taken to ignoring this person. I'd say an older sibling," Sherlock finished as he handed me back over my phone. I smiled back at him, he had gotten a lot less off of my phone than he had from John's. So I wasn't the only one having issues making deductions.
"There you go you see…you were right," Sherlock told John smiling with satisfaction. I slipped my phone into my inner coat pocket and looked a John. I had to admit it was nice to share my deductions with someone again. Of course, there was always the issue of how they would be received.
"I was right? Right about what?" John asked us sounding stunned that Sherlock had told him he was right about something.
"The police don't consult amateurs," I told John with a smile on my face. Sherlock looked out of the side window and I caught him biting his lip nervously as he waited for John's reaction. He was obviously used to the same reactions I was. Over time I had learnt not to share my deductions with anyone a fact that it seemed Sherlock had learnt too. John however had been all but asking to be deduced.
"That ... was amazing," John said suddenly. Sherlock looked round at John with and expression of surprise upon his face. I mirrored Sherlock's expression. Did he seriously just tell us we were amazing? Well, that was a first.
"Do you think so?" Sherlock asked him after he gained his composure back.
"Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary," John remarked truthfully and I grinned widely at him.
"That's not what people normally say," Sherlock remarked as we shared a knowing look.
"What do people normally say?" John asked us as he watched the look of understanding pass between us.
"'Piss off'!" We told him in unison before Sherlock and I shared a laugh. John took in the both of us with a look of, 'What have I gotten myself into?' before turning away from us to gaze out the window with a grin on his face.
