A little scene from The Great Game, but it doesn't have the same outcome!
This ones fecking long because I won't be posting for a few weeks! I've got some shizz on at the moment and it's making it hard to find time to write! Please let me know what you think of this chapter though!
Enjoy!
221C Baker Street
Chapter Seven:
"Queer as the Day is Long"
As I exited Molly's flat, my old flat, I got the feeling that 'Jim from IT' was either mentally deficient, or obscenely gay.
My heart had chosen the latter. My brain was telling me something else entirely.
It all started on a Thursday afternoon; I was in the process of cleaning up after the lunch hour at Bart's when a bloke wearing a V neck and a dopey smile approached me.
Strangely, he looked vaguely familiar.
"You're her." He grinned.
"I'm, who?" I asked confusedly.
"The best friend Molly never stops talking about!" He suddenly pulled me into a firm embrace, startled – I dropped a plate.
"Um,-" I mumbled, trying subtly to get out of his grasp and retrieve the plate.
"Oh yes, Molly's told me all about you, I can't believe we're actually meeting at last!" He exclaimed after he had finally released me.
I chuckled awkwardly. "Why? I'm not a celebrity or anything…"
He snickered in response. "I know, I know, there's just something so strange about hearing so much about a person, and finally meeting them. Don't you think?"
Before I had time to answer, he had already begun speaking again.
"Do you watch glee? Molly and I watch it every Tuesday."
"I-"
He didn't even come up for air.
"Oh, gosh- Is it true you live with that detective, you know, the one with the funny hat- what's his name-"
"Sherlock Holmes."
He paused for a moment. All of a sudden a wide and almost frightening, grin spread across his face. "Yes. That's the one." I was pondering why his voice had changed pitch when Molly trotted over.
"Brilliant! You two have met!" She beamed.
"Yes, Jim was just telling me about your Tuesday night viewing." I laughed whilst Molly blushed.
"Now, it's nothing to be ashamed of- glee's a very entertaining show." Jim said, a little brashly if I wasn't mistaken. He squeezed Molly's shoulder and nuzzled her neck.
Feeling a little queasy, I decided to change the subject.
"What are you doing in here anyway Moll? Lunch finished about half an hour ago."
"Ah, well, I'm supposed to be getting Sherlock's coffee, but I saw you two talking and I thought I-"
"Hang on, the Sherlock's in?" Jim enquired.
Molly nodded before turning to me, "John, too." She winked playfully.
The face I made then probably somewhat resembled a troll. "What was that?"
"What was what?" She asked innocently.
"That! That wink! Why are you winking?"
"Oh, no reason. I heard him subtly enquiring about you to Sherlock in the lab, you know."
Jim chortled. I stared at both of them in amazement.
"He was talking to Sherlock. About me?"
"OK, well Sherlock wasn't really listening, but I think even he got the hint."
"Oh, come on Ange! Are you really telling me that you and John are just platonic?"
"Yes! That's exactly what I'm telling you!"
Uncharacteristically of Molly, she snorted.
"Molly?" Jim said kindly, "Would you mind if we- well, if we went to meet them?" He looked hopeful.
So, Sherlock had a fan.
Poor, defenceless, man.
He had obviously never met Sherlock Holmes before.
Molly looked incredibly uncertain. She was clearly thinking the same thing I was.
"Well, I suppose for a minute." She said uneasily. He smiled brightly in return. Even his eyes glistened.
Their funeral.
"Alright, well whilst you two get on with that, I'll be getting on with this," I pointed to the stack of dirty plates in a large washing up bowl. "Have fun." I almost grinned.
"Oh, you're not coming with us?"
"Nope."
"Please, Ange."
"No."
She looked around desperately, Jim eyeing her concernedly. "I'll buy you a packet of crisps."
I paused. "Are you serious? You're bribing me? And with a packet of bloody crisps?"
"The canteen's closed! That's all they do in the vending machines!"
"Goodness, gracious me. If you're that bloody desperate." I took off the yellow rubber gloves Meg had oh-so gracefully flung at me at the beginning of my shift.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"Yes, yes. I honestly don't know why you can't just take Jim on your own."
"Because- well, because, you know."
Unfortunately I did know. Lively with the Sherlock day in day out had made me somewhat immune to him, Molly on the other hand- well it was like putting a rabbit in a lion's cage. She was going to get eaten.
Metaphorically, of course…
As we walked down the hall, Molly held onto a practically bouncing Jim. I, on the other hand was less than bouncy. I had just remembered the talk I had meant to have with John the other day.
Molly's wink had said it all. I dread to even think what he could have possibly have been asking Sherlock.
Before I knew it, we were in the lab, and Molly had already introduced Jim to the two men. I had zoned out, standing in the corner staring at some strange coloured vials.
When I finally did look up, it was because Jim had just knocked over some books and papers next to Sherlock.
"Sorry- I'm so- oh god, sorry." He waffled.
"Don't worry Jim." Molly consoled.
"How can I make it up to you?" Jim continued, "Dinner! Yes, dinner, tomorrow night. At our flat."
"Knocking over a few stacks of paper hardly warrants a dinner invitation." Sherlock said, bemused.
"You too, Angela. If you'd like." Jim looked at me expectantly, as did Molly.
They clung to each other like they'd fall over if they didn't.
It was then that I suddenly saw John staring at me. He turned away, embarrassed. I felt slightly embarrassed myself.
"Well, I haven't got anything else on, so I suppose I could-"
"Excellent!" Jim exclaimed, "Is eight alright for you guys?"
"If you'd recall, we haven't accepted this offer of yours." Sherlock studied his microscope.
"C'mon, Sherlock. It's just dinner. Jim and Molly have been very kind to invite us- yes, we'll be there." John said kindly.
Oh, fucking fantastic. A night with my love sick best friend, her gay boyfriend, an awkward admirer, and the cleverest twat I've ever met.
I sighed. Roll on the good times.
I was running late.
It was just gone eight and I was rushing to find my orange scarf.
Once I had contemplated what it was doing in the bath, I jogged up the stairs into the hall of 221B.
John was standing silently, evidently waiting.
"Hey, John. Sherlock taking his time is he?"
"Erm, actually no. Sherlock's not coming."
"Why?"
"He's refusing to move- I'm waiting for you."
"Oh, that's nice of you." I turned to look at the door. John spoke then, "Don't worry, I've already called a cab."
"Oh, it's not that. It's just- well I think Jim was expecting Sherlock to come. And he means a lot to Molly; shouldn't we try and get him to come?"
He gestured to the door of the living room. "Be my guest." He smirked.
I sighed, braced myself and went in.
A screeching noise assaulted my ears. "No."
I puffed. "Think of all the things Molly's done for you."
"She brings me coffee, yes. She assists me, sometimes, on cases, yes. She demands my presence at her flat for… dinner, no."
"She did not demand it. It wasn't even her idea!"
"I have no interest in interacting with Molly's homosexual boyfriend either."
"Ugh, I knew I wasn't imagining it!"
He stared, amazed that I had somehow followed his train of thought.
His violin, however, continued to drown out any train of thought I'd had.
"Alright, do it for John then."
"John, why would John care whether I come or not?"
I struggled to find words. "Oh, because he does!"
Apparently my answer wasn't good enough because he turned his back to me, and facing the window, he continued to screech a rather annoying sound.
That was it. I was going to have to use force.
I scanned the room, and finally, I eyed it. A prized possession of his.
"Don't even think about it."
Oh balls.
"Do what?" I said lightly.
"You're failed attempt at persuasion has now led you to rethink your course of action. And I'm telling you now. Don't think about it."
"Too late."
In a flash, I had lunged for the skull that sad proudly on his mantelpiece and held it over the fire defiantly.
"Come with us, or the skull gets it."
"You wouldn't dare." Sherlock stood, clasping his violin and his bow in each hand.
"Wouldn't I?" I challenged.
"Alright then, go ahead." He once again turned to face the window; but this time instead of playing some unbearable screech, he played the funeral march.
I looked down at the fire, and suddenly got an idea.
"You know, perhaps I wouldn't dare. No, perhaps I'll just take him home instead." Sherlock stopped playing.
I clasped the skull to me.
"Yes, and maybe I'll give it a little makeover too, some lipstick here, some permanent marker pen there," I tried not to smile.
He did it so quickly I didn't have time to register it. He put down the bow and violin, grabbed his coat and scarf, took the skull from my hands and placed it back on the mantelpiece, and hurried out the door.
"Well, come on then," He called, "We've no time to waste."
I didn't even question how easy it was to manipulate Sherlock. Instead, I gave up and grinned.
When we finally arrived at Molly's, I was surprised to see she had made an effort.
Her flat was small, but yet the sofa had been pushed out of the way to make space for the dining table.
Jim greeted Sherlock eagerly, to which Sherlock tolerated.
Before I knew it, I was on the wine.
Seven glasses later, and Jim was rambling on about something to do with hard drives.
I couldn't believe that Sherlock actually sat still through the entire dinner, spending most of it in his praying position; I couldn't even remember eating the steak I had apparently had.
"-this is not a standard scenario for disk replacement - infrequently will the same disk model be used given changes in cost and technological improvements." Jim said. I was beginning to see double.
Then I did something so mortifying, I've blocked it out of my memory.
"-you're a boring fucker aren't you?" I slurred.
The table went quiet, and they all turned in astonishment to me.
"I'm-I'm sorry?"
"You heard, and what's the deal with the V necks? I saw you checking out," I hiccupped, "Sherlock 'ere earlier." I slouched towards Molly and whispered theatrically, "Eyyy, ey, Moll, you better watch this one- he's not playing for us, if ya know what I mean-"
"OK! And that's enough for one night, Jim, Molly, thank you for having us over- but I think someone needs to go to bed!" John said, trying to relieve the tension.
Molly looked as if she were about to cry, of course I didn't register it at the time.
"Oh, good." Sherlock swiped his coat, and stood by the door without so much as a thank you.
I went to stand but almost took the table cloth and everything on the table cloth with me.
"Jesus, let me help." Jim came over and slung his arm around me whilst John grabbed the other side.
"Byeeee Molly." I wailed.
I didn't hear her response.
"Oh god- Jim, can you hold her whilst I ring a cab?"
"Of course."
John walked a little ahead to use phone the cab, whilst Sherlock stood bone idly, furiously typing on his phone.
My knees gave way.
"Whoaaaa, there precious. Wouldn't want you dying on me." Jim mocked.
Where did that voice come from? It wasn't dopey or high pitched, in fact it was very low, and an Irish accent appeared out of nowhere.
"Wh-what, why are you-"
"Shh, don't talk. I'll see you very soon, An-ge-la." He elongated my name, "You're cleverer than I thought you were."
Everything was blurry, and I didn't even know if this was really happening.
"The cabs here." I heard John say.
He took me away from Jim and sat me next to the window. I gazed out of it dizzily, Jim stood there. Smiling.
The cab took off, but had to stop quickly when I need to vomit on the side of the road. John rubbed my back affectionately.
I peered back at the cab, and the driver looked bored, whilst Sherlock watched me through the window. For a moment I thought he would get out- but I realise now it was probably in my head.
I didn't know what had occurred tonight with Jim from IT, I could have just imagined it in my drunken state. And yet, as I got back into the cab and John paid the driver extra for waiting, I couldn't help but think one single thought. Over and over again.
Something ain't right with Jim from IT.
Oh, how right I was.
Did it suck? Did it not suck? PLEASE REVIEW, and let me know,
-Laura
P.S I really like writing drunk people. :3
