A/N Hope you enjoyed the Mycroft/Chelsea standown. I'm pretty proud of it! Anyways here's another chappie for y'all! Enjoy!
It had been a week since Chelsea had seen Sherlock, and today was the day she was going to move in. Five minutes ago Sherlock had summoned her to Baker Street. Well the conversation had gone more like this.
Baker Street. Now. -SH
Why? -CG
Because I need you. -SH
Do you have new information? -CG
Do I need to? -SH
Don't answer a question with a question because it merely states there isn't new information, and therefore could hardly be relevant. -CG
There is someone I need you to meet. To be specific two people. -SH
Why? Are they my stalkers? -CG
No. -SH
Are they attacking you? Threatening you? -CG
No. -SH
Then I'm not coming. -CG
Please? -SH
I'm begging you. -SH
It's important Chelsea, and is relevant to your staying at Baker Street. -SH
No. -CG
The two people in question don't believe you are a parkour and freerunner expert. -SH
So? -CG
I've left the window open. -SH
I'm coming as you speak. -CG
Sherlock was bored. Bored and tired. John, Mary, and Mrs Hudson were seated eating biscuits around the table, and occasionally sending glances his way. When Mrs Hudson had told the couple that a lovely young woman was taking John's old room, John had instantly demanded to know how Sherlock had let her.
"How in the blazes did you ever convince a woman to flat with you?"
"Easily. She's being stalked and it's part of the plan. She's also very interesting, she does parkour and freerunning, and she jumped the Shard. She's very fast too." Before Sherlock had even completed his brief monologue, Mary was smirking at John's bewildered expression. But both looked confused when Sherlock opened the window, and smiled.
"She's very clever, John. She doesn't appear to be bothered by the fact that she's being stalked, and we can use that to concoct a way of capturing her stalker." John opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by Mrs Hudson, who came in and set down tea and biscuits. Mary immediatley took two biscuits and Sherlock smirked. John opened his mouth again, and turned back, only to step back when he registered the figure on the window sill. Sherlock turned, and looked at the young brunette, who stared at them in a bored manner.
"A former army Doctor, and his pregnant wife? That's who you wanted me to meet?" She said turning to Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Come here Chelsea." And he held out his hand. The brunette smiled, and standing up in the sill, took Sherlock's hand, and stepped lightly down. Stepping forward, she held out her hand to John.
"Chelsea Griffiths, and you are?" John cleared his throat, and shook her hand.
"John Watson." Chelsea raised an eyebrow, and John cleared his throat. "Captain John Watson, formerly of the 5th Northumberland Fusilers in Afghanistan." Chelsea nodded, and stepped to Mary.
"And you?" Mary stood up.
"Mary Watson, and it's nice to meet you, Chelsea." Chelsea nodded.
"Pleasure to meet both of you. Any new info Sherlock?" She said turning to said consulting detective, who shook his head, and plopped in his seat. Chelsea shrugged, and spun around before registering that Mrs Hudson was there.
"Oh! Mrs Hudson! How are you? I do beg your pardon!" The elderly lady stepped forward smiling.
"Oh I'm fine dear. It's perfectly allright. Would you like some tea?" Chelsea nodded.
"I'm absolutely starved!" Sherlock instantly turned and stared at her.
"No. No, you're not. You had a nice full English breakfast." Chelsea stepped towards Sherlock and loomed over him.
"I have a fast metabolism. I am starved!" Grabbing a couple of gingersnaps, she stuffed them in her mouth and closed her eyes as she chewed. "Mmm, delicious! We need to do cooking together Mrs Hudson! I love these!" Mrs Hudson smiled, and turned to her.
"It's Martha dear, and of course we can do baking together." Then she frowned. "Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"You haven't eaten." Martha told him reproachfully, and Sherlock turned to her.
"I do not eat when I am on a case." Chelsea turned and stared at him.
"A case which you reliably informed me, will probably last another six months, and eating during that time while concocting a plan as you put it, will not harm you!" She grabbed the plate of biscuits, and handed it to him. "Eat!" Sherlock stared at her, before grabbing a biscuit and nibbling at it, hurriedly eating the whole thing, and taking another when she cleared her throat and looked at him menacingly. After he'd eaten six biscuits, Chelsea put the platter down, satisfied. Sherlock glared at her poutingly.
"You're bad for my health." To which Chelsea stubbornly replied.
"No, you're bad for your health. If you don't eat enough to keep alive while you're on this case, and you die, who's gonna solve all the murders, then?!" Sherlock looked down, abashed. In all his adult life, he'd never been subjected to anything like this. Chelsea Griffiths was a woman of a different kind. She was completely straightforward, no-nonsense, and roundabout a general example of a brawny 1940s housewife. It was almost scary. Almost. He looked up and realised that John and Mary were trying to get rid of their ill-concealed smirks. The doorbell rang, and Sherlock and John looked at each other, but before either could say anything, Chelsea smiled.
"Ah, that would be my friends. They're helping me move all my stuff in." Mrs Hudson moved to get the door, and Chelsea bounded down with her, filled with a relentless energy. Sherlock sighed, and John grinned at the childishness the consulting detective displayed. Footsteps clattered on the staircase, and they heard female voices talking loudly. The doors crashed open, and Sherlock nearly jumped, when Chelsea burst through accompanied by five female friends. Spinning around, Chelsea gestured with a dramatic flourish to the flat.
"And this is where I will be living!" She called over her shoulder to the women who looked at the mess. Sherlock deduced them all. All relatively the same age, two smokers, one drug addict, three with boyfriends, one's engaged and cheating on her fiance with two other men. One's a health addict, another's a cleaning freak with two cats, and was alternating glancing between the room, and it's occupants. John, Mary, and Sherlock stood up, and Chelsea gestured for her friends to drop the stuff and come forward. "Sherlock, Mary, John, meet Claudia Angelas, Lydia Fallon, Jeanette Colburn, Lucy Wixton, and Josephine Bryant. Claud, Lyd, Jean, Luc, Jo, meet Sherlock Holmes, John and Mary Watson." The five women smiled eagerly, and recieved two smils back. Sherlock opened his mouth to reveal his deductions, but a sacharine sweet smile from Chelsea made him think better of it, and he shut his mouth, and offered a brief smile before turning away. Chelsea led the girls through, and Mary followed. The sounds that emanated were proof that the ladies were enjoying themselves immensely. John looked at Sherlock as girlish squeals erupted through the flat.
"The morgue?" Sherlock looked at him slowly.
"John, in all the years I have ever known you, you have never been overly intelligent, but let me just say that that! Was the best suggestion ever!" And so saying he jumped up and grabbing his scarf and coat, made his way down stairs to hail a cab, John by his heels, once more like the old duo.
Molly Hooper was just finishing paperwork in her office, when the door crashed open, and Sherlock and John dramatically entered, John slightly less dramatic, but still dramatic. She squeaked and flinched in surprise, before quickly recovering.
"Sherlock, John! What can I do for you?" She was glad her voice managed to maintain a professional tone to it. Sherlock strode straight in, and flopped down in a chair, and John lounged apologetically by the wall.
"We, Molly, are taking refuge." Sherlock replied. Molly's response was to frown.
"From what?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Not what, whom."
"Okay, from whom?" Molly breathed an internal sigh of relief and a thank you to the gods that her voice still stayed steady. John answered that question.
"From his new flatmate, and her girl gaggle. Blimey, I can't stand it when women go all gushy." Molly smiled at him.
"And you want to hide out here." She stated.
"Not want, need!" Sherlock replied. He threw himself to his feet and prowled restlessly around the room. Molly sighed, and shook her head turning to John.
"In all your time together, did you ever notice that he's a drama queen?" She asked, and John smiled.
"That question has to be rhetorical." Molly nodded affirmitive, and turned to go to back to her paperwork, and promptly bumped into Sherlock. She yelped and leapt back, hand to her heart.
"Damnit Sherlock, you can't just sneak up behind people like that!" Sherlock smirked at her reaction.
"Technically, I didn't sneak." He cooly replied, and Molly glared at him.
"Cut out the technical bullshit, and sit down and stay still or I will call security and have you thrown out!" Sherlock pouted slightly.
"But I'm bored out of my mind!" He protested, and sulked. Molly sighed, turning to John, who shook his head. She heaved a sigh, and turned back.
"Well sit down, and stay still, and if you manage that, when I finish my paperwork, I'll get you something." Sherlock's face lit up, and he smiled.
"I'll just pop up to the morgue and do some experimenting then until you can come." Molly, who had been just about to sit down, straightened immediately.
"Touch that morgue door Sherlock Holmes, and so help me god, I will have you thrown out of that morgue, and keep it that way for a month of Sundays." Sherlock's posture dropped, and immediately he pouted.
"But...
"Sit down." He hesitated and leaned over the desk, hands covering her paperwork. Molly slowly raised her head to meet him.
"Moooollllyyyy." He began, and then a cruel smile settled over her features.
"Want to try for two months?" She suggested, and he virtually leapt into his seat, sending death glares her way, but nothing could stop the victorious smile spreading across her face, and staying there. She finished quickly, and set it aside with a sigh. In the corner of her eye, she saw Sherlock straighten, and John stand up taller, and she drew it back, pretending to check her work. Sherlock fidgeted, and began to fiddle.
"Moooooooolllllyyyy!" He whined, and Molly bit her lip to hide a smile.
"How about three months?" She suggested loudly, and he quietened down, sulking. She tortured him for a few minutes longer, and then closed the folder with a snap, coming to her feet. Sherlock sprang up and dashed out the door, and she called out.
"Slow down, or I will make it four!" He slowed immediately, but kept on passing glances backwards in frustration at her. John kept pace beside her.
"Thanks. That was fun." Molly smirked.
"I agree. I should do that more often." They reached the morgue, and Sherlock held the door open for her, almost bouncing with barely suppressed energy. She stopped, and gave him another sacharine sweet smile. "Why thank you, Sherlock! Turning over a new leaf?" She made her way past him, hyper-aware that he was virtually breathing down her neck. She reached into the fridge, and pulled out some thumbs, and he instantly reached for the packet, but stopped when she held it just out of his reach. Fairly dancing with excitement, he pulled the best puppy-dog face he could do.
"Pllllleeeeaaasseeee, Molly?" She couldn't hold back the smile as she handed him the thumbs. He virtually danced around the room with excitement and then stopped and looked at her. John stiffened beside him as he spoke. "You, Molly, are cruel." Molly fairly grinned at him.
"Love you too, Sherlock. Now get out of my morgue." He left instantly, and John smiled at her, before chasing after the enigatic detective. Molly could only shake her head and sigh.