Hi! If you are reading this it means that either you've been following this story, or you are probably bored and just need something to read. If the first, YAY! Thank you so much for your support! If the second, YAY! I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long to post guys. School is bitchy.
Spoilers: John may or may not end up in Sherlock's bed near the end. But don't worry, I'll keep it T rated.
As always, Allons-y!
Write On,
WFFH
The detective got off the phone as the car pulled up. The person who got out, however, wasn't who he expected to see.
"You aren't Sherlock Holmes," he states. The blonde man smiles at him and reaches out his hand.
"Not in the slightest. John Watson at your service," he said. The detective shook John's had, "Can I set up a video link here?"
"Uh, yeah...?" He said. John got a laptop bag out of the car and opened it up.
After tinkering around a little bit John got a live video feed going with Sherlock.
"I still don't understand why you couldn't come," John mumbled to her.
"Because John. I'm dreadfully moody and this case is lower than a six. As we discussed, anything lower than a six doesn't require my actual presence or me being involved that much," Sherlock said. She sat on the other side of the connection wearing nothing but a sheet and, John hoped, her underclothes. But who could be sure with Sherlock.
"Whatever. What about the girl?"
"Completely innocent. I would list all the reasons why she is but you've told me that my deductions can come out a little rude when I'm rambling," Sherlock said, she sounded annoyed, "You're just mad that I beat you at Cluedo."
John rolled his eyes.
"So where are we?" Sherlock asked as John walked around with the laptop.
"An old mill I think," John answered.
"Show me everything."
So John spent the next 15 minutes walking around the crime scene with a laptop with Sherlock's face on it. Every so often she would ask him to stop, or get closer to something, or get a better angle. It was almost amusing to the police to watch him do it.
Suddenly a helicopter appeared and landed on the property. John was in the middle of something with Sherlock when it arrived so he didn't notice.6
"It's for you Mr. Watson," a young officer told him. John held his hand out as he ended the video call with Sherlock, expecting a phone to be put in it. When nothing happened he turned to the young man who pointed at the helicopter.
"Brilliant," John grumbled under his breath.
"Sherlock, I've paged you 6 times," Mrs. Hudson, the cook, said as she opened the door to Sherlock's suite. Sherlock had been staying at John's ever since she got kicked out of her old flat by the landlord.
A few men walked in behind Mrs. Hudson.
"I shot it," Sherlock stated, not looking up from the laptop.
"Oh that's the fifth one this week," Mrs. Hudson mumbled to herself. One of the men took a few steps towards Sherlock.
"Ms. Holmes, you need to get dressed," He said. Sherlock glanced up at him and disparaging look.
"Um... no," She stated as she turned back to the laptop. In the reflection of the screen she saw the man nod at the other one. The other man quickly headed in the direction of Sherlock's closet and retrieved a dress and shoes for her. The items were soon placed on top of the laptop.
"You're going to want to be dressed where you're going," the man said. Sherlock looked him up and down a few times before getting a smug look.
"Oh I already know where I'm going, and trust me, I'd rather go like this," She said with a grin.
One thing's for sure, it was interesting getting her into the helicopter without exposing her bare body to the world.
John walked around Buckingham Palace. He liked it here. If he happened to decide to stay in the criminal consulting business, then he would plan on taking out the Royal Family so he could live in Buckingham Palace.
He also had a serious urge to try and swipe something, just to see if he could. He was thinking about whether he could make it out the door with one of the crystal ash trays.
After turning a few corners, going down a few corridors, and getting lost only once he found himself in a large sitting room. Sherlock sat on the couch wrapped up in one of her sheets, her hair was all tangled and messy. John wondered whether she'd washed in the past couple days.
Sherlock turned and looked at him, an amused expression on her face. John raised his eyebrows and glanced around before looking back at her.
Why are we here? He asked her silently. She made a face and shrugged her shoulders to say she didn't know. John went and sat down beside her, there was a dress and shoes on the table in front of them. They continued to be silent until John leaned over and looked at her sheet covered body.
"Are you wearing any under clothes?" He asked.
"Nope," Sherlock quickly answered. John burst out laughing. Sherlock gave one of her rare, pleased smiles and giggled softly.
"I've always wanted to be naked in Buckingham Palace," She added, which just made John laugh harder.
"Some people dream of just visiting Buckingham Palace. But not Sherlock Holmes! She wants to visit, naked!" John said through his laughter. Sherlock gave a soft laugh.
"Which leads me to my next question, Sherlock," John says as he calms down, "Why are we here?"
"I don't know."
"I mean seriously," John paused, "Are we going to see the Queen? Oh god, I want to ask her for a cigarette." Sherlock laughed some more, a sound that pleased John. Suddenly Myka walks in. The two quieted for a short second.
"Apparently yes," Sherlock said. Which through them into a state of laughter again. Myka glared at them disapprovingly.
"Are you two going to grow up and act like adults?" She asked sharply. John calms first so he answers.
"I'm her landlord who runs about and helps her solve crimes and her greatest dream of visiting Buckingham Palace naked has been fulfilled, I wouldn't hold out much hope," He says, which makes him and Sherlock laugh again.
Myka just shook her head and sat down. Soon a man in uniform walks in and John jumps up, snapping to attention. The man returns the salute and walks over to Myka and Sherlock.
"Thank you for coming Ms. Holmes and Mr. Watson," he said. John and Sherlock both nod before he continues.
"Well, I'll get right to the point,"
"That's always best," Sherlock mumbles. She receives an exasperated look from Myka but the man ignores her.
"A special person has been involved in a... scandal. Have you ever heard of Irene Adler?" He says.
Sherlock and John's reactions were different. While Sherlock just raised a eyebrow and shook her head John smiled with fake indifference to that name.
"Irene Adler," Myka says, "gives out... recreational scolding. For a pretty price too. She's a dominatrix." Sherlock cocks her head to the side, listening attentively.
"She's also called, 'the Woman'," Myka says. John smirks slightly.
"Yeah, she'd like to be called that," He says. Everyone turns to him with questioning looks. Especially Sherlock. Myka's eyebrows have raised.
"I've, uh, associated with Irene," John explained. The man's eyes grow wider and Myka shoots him a questioning gaze. Sherlock however has turned back to Myka and gone blank faced.
"What," the man starts to croak out. He clears his throat, "What is your association with Miss Adler?"
"Oh nothing like what you are thinking," John quickly says with a knowing grin. He can here the slightest sigh of relief from Sherlock. He continues, "Irene and I have... well I mean, I have helped Irene with some..." he trails off as he tries to think of how to explain his relationship with Irene without probing more questions.
"Did you meet her through her brother?" Myka suggests. John didn't know she had a brother, but he took the chance.
"Yeah, well I mean sorta. I came home with her brother one Christmas, she thought I was his boyfriend. Poor Sebastian flushed five shades of red," John said. He decided that for this purpose Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's favorite sniper, would be Irene's brother. He gave a laugh at the thought.
"After that I helped Irene... discourage some unsavory characters whose fancy she had caught," John lied. Sherlock turned to him.
"You pretended to be her boyfriend? Or were you her boyfriend?" she asked. John laughed.
"Me? Her boyfriend? Ha! No, I wasn't her boyfriend. Irene is Lesbian," John said. Sherlock sighed again. But then John thought about it.
"Actually she's bi." Sherlock tensed up a bit, "Well actually she's sapiosexual. But she swings both ways." Myka was giving him a "shut up" look, so he did.
"So what can you tell us about her?" the man asked.
"What do you need to know?"
"First," Sherlock interrupted, "What's the case? And who's my client?"
"Well, Miss Adler has some photos of her and your client. Some compromising photos," Myka said.
"And my client is?"
"We're in Buckingham Palace, Sherlock. Do the deduction," Myka answered cockily. Sherlock folded her arms across her chest. Sure she could figure it out if she wanted to, but Myka was being cocky, and Sherlock hated it when Myka got cocky.
"Who. Is. My. Client?" Sherlock demanded.
"Sherlock," Myka warned. Sherlock stood up stubbornly.
"If you aren't going to tell me then I'm not doing the case," She pouted. Sherlock started to walk away when suddenly she felt her sheet start to fall away from her body. Immediately she grabbed for it and managed to keep herself from completely flashing Buckingham Palace. She pressed part of the sheet against her chest to keep from showing anything in that direction, and she pressed another of the sheet against her lower back to do the same.
"Get off my sheet," she hissed venomously.
"Or what?" asked Myka's smug voice. Sherlock stood up straighter.
"I'll walk away."
"I'll let you."
"Children, please," John's voice cut in, "Sherlock, go put some clothes on while your up. Myka, stop being a bitch, okay? Now get off of her sheet. I will not have Sherlock walking around Buckingham Palace full-ass nude okay?"
Sherlock felt the pressure from her sheet disappear. She turned around, marched back, and grabbed her dress and shoes.
"Thank you."
"Okay John, you know what to do," Sherlock said. They were standing a block away from Irene's house and Sherlock had a plan.
"Sherlock, I'm not punching you in the face."
"Please John," Sherlock whined. John crossed his arms.
"Fine," She said as she started taking off her coat, "start tearing my dress." John's eyes widened, his cheeks color slightly.
"Absolutely not. People are talking enough the way it is. I'm not ripping up your clothes with you still in them," he said.
"But Jooohn!" Sherlock whined some more, "It has to look realistic."
"Then you do it," John said nodding his at her. Sherlock started pouting.
"Sherlock..." John started. Finally he sighed, "I assume this is supposed to look like rape?"
"Yep."
"Sherlock, I already know Irene. What's the point of this?" John asked.
"Because," Sherlock said, she sounded like she was whining again, "It will help me get in without suspicion."
"You're Sherlock Holmes, the worlds only consulting detective. You're famous. There's no way you'll get in without suspicion." Sherlock just puts her hands on her hips and gives him a "no arguing" look. John sighs. If he wanted to he could argue about it for hours.
He didn't want to. He got down on his knees and grabbed her dress.
"I swear to any god that can hear me, Sherlock, if I see a picture of this in the paper, on the telly, or in any god forsaken gossip article then I'm going to ruin you," John grumbles as he starts to try to rip the dress.
"Oh what could you do to me?" Sherlock laughed.
"You have no idea," John replied, then cringed when he realized how sexual that could sound. Sherlock got oddly quiet.
"Aha!" John cried as he got a rip started. "Okay, so how do I do this? Do you want me to do it carefully or all at once?"
"Oh, do it all at once," Sherlock says, "It will look more realistic that way."
"All the way up or no?"
"I don't care, start ripping and see where this goes."
"Quickly or slow?"
"Just start ripping."
"Do you-"
"Just rip it John!" Sherlock demanded. John finally just grunted and ripped open the dress, averting his eyes once it reached her lower thighs. He released the fabric and stood up after he had ripped what he thought was enough. He forced his eyes not to leave her face.
"There. That good enough?" he asked.
"No."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Then what's wrong with it?" He demanded. Sherlock sighed again.
"Did you even look where you were ripping?" she asked impatiently. Finally John looks down. Instead of ripping straight up, the fabric ripped more in a curved shape. Ending at the top of her left hip, revealing black lace panties. John sighed and grabbed the fabric (Of the dress, not her panties. For God's sake clean out your mind palace).
"Hold on to that bin." He commanded. Sherlock did and John ignored the way that the panties moved as she did. John suddenly just jerked the fabric as he moved away from Sherlock, effectively ripping it straight across the front. Sherlock shivered at the sudden breeze and hugged her arms across her chest.
Quickly John grabbed her coat and handed it to her, trying to ignore her purple-and-lace bra.
"Now John," Sherlock started, "I know you said you wouldn't punch me... but would you at least slap me? I mean, after all I did just get raped. My dress and vagina aren't going to be the only things that suffered." John shook his head.
"John Watson, if you don't slap me I am going to shoot your wall again." John looked away, gritting his jaw.
"I'll send Harriet drugs for Christmas."
SLAP!
"Oh, very good John," Sherlock said as she held the side of her face, "How about a punch this time."
"NO!" John said adamantly. "Damn it Sherlock! I'm not getting put away for domestic abuse!"
"Techiniquely it's public assault," Sherlock said, still rubbing her cheek.
"Techniquily I don't care! I'm not doing it. Your getting what you've got. Nothing more," John crossed his arms and stood even more adamant than before.
Sherlock knows when she's not going to be able to persuade him.
She sighs.
"Fine, lets go. You know what to do?"
"Yeah," John sighs with relief at Sherlock's compliance.
Hu ahhh... was the noise that Sherlock woke up to. She stumbled out of bed to her coat. Fumbling around a little bit she finally fished her phone out.
I'm not hungry. Lets have dinner.
Sherlock figured that it must be from Irene. She had Sherlock's coat and phone last, must have gotten her number. Sherlock ignored it and stumbled towards her dresser. But for some strange reason, Sherlock didn't have much motor control and found herself crashing into her bookshelf, knocking several things off of it. As she tried to pick herself up John came into the room.
"What are you doing out of bed? You were drugged. Bed rest until it's out of your system, Doctor's orders. In case you didn't realize it, that would be me," he said as he picked her up off the floor and laid her back in bed.
"Meh whe ith thi?" Sherlock mumbled out.
"Where's who?"
"Eyeween."
"Oh, she's long gone. Egypt I think," John answered as he pulled the sheets over her.
Sherlock grasped his wrist. The only thing circulating in her drugged up brain now was that she wanted to cuddle.
"Thay," Sherlock whispered.
"What?" John asked. He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Thtay," Sherlock tried again more earnestly. John finally got out that she was trying to tell him to stay. He smiled softly.
"Sherlock I can't. It wouldn't be right," he tried to argue.
"Ith tha yo ohly ojecon?" she asked tiredly.
"Is that my only objection?" John guessed. Sherlock nodded. She looked like she was about ready to pass out again. John stopped and thought about it a little bit.
God help him, he would regret this.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"Theh I doh car. Thay." She tugged a little harder on his wrist. He quickly looked at his watch.
"Well I guess I'll go to bed early," he said. John sat on the side of the bed, took of his shoes and pulled off his sweater. As soon as he had lain down, Sherlock attatched herself to him. She was curled up next to him with one arm across his abdomen and her head on his chest.
"Good night Sherlock," John whispered as he smoothed out her hair with one hand a placed the other one on her arm.
His response was Sherlock's steady breathing and warm body.
They slept together! Was it cute? Did you like it? I hope so!