A/N: Montana is still a territory in this story. There were also gold deposits found in its soil. I might inundate you with other random facts as I find them. If you want to know what lightning looks like, just think Jim West's horse in 'Wild West'.
Don't forget to comment! I would love to hear from you! Also, if you read my HPLock check out my AO3 account, I added more chapters there. Same username.
John was breathless from laughing when they finally slowed down the horses to a steady trot. They had almost reached town, and John was still reeling from all that had happened...in one day. He looked over a Sherlock and smirked in the dim light. "Would you care to tell me what that was all about?"
Sherlock's mouth quirked up into a flash of a smile. "Irene was there at the bank. She and her girls staged the robbery, however they were not there for monetary gain in the form of money."
"The deed?" John nodded his head knowingly.
Sherlock let out a chuckle. "You and Sarah did have quite the chat, didn't you?"
"Actually, she volunteered most of the information. She seemed rather worried about it and was going to tell me more until you caused all that ruckus."
"As I stated before, people are not normally so receptive to my observation skills as you are. I got the information I came for and after that I told them all what I had wanted to state from the start. Thankfully, Irene is forgiving to the fact that many fights at 'The Velvet Whip' are caused by me.
"Putting that aside, Irene decided to 'acquire' the deed from the bank. However, one of the girls shot the deputy. Her name is Mary Morstan. I have never met her, but she was a new girl. Irene had her suspicions about her, it was a poor decision on her part to ignore her instincts. Miss. Morstan turned out to be in alliance with Moriarty. She shot the deputy in hopes that Irene would be arrested."
"Except no one has been arrested yet." John reached for his cane only discover it gone. Where did my...? He let out a surprised gasp.
"You'll find that you no longer require your cane, John." Sherlock said, his tone too nonchalant sounding.
John stretched his leg only to discover that it caused him no discomfort. "Well I'll be damned."
"Just make sure you do not relapse. I have a feeling we will not be welcome at that establishment anytime soon. Even if Irene is forgiving, the patrons are not." Sherlock let out a deep chuckle.
John couldn't keep a high pitched giggle from escaping his lips. He covered his mouth in embarrassment and tried to turn the unmanly giggle into a cough. "Why doesn't the Sheriff understand that the bank robbers were women?"
"The men in White Gulch are still too narrow minded. To them, a woman would never dress up as a man; let alone commit a crime. They wore men's clothing and bandana's over their faces. I believe Miss. Morstan dropped the butt in the hopes that the Sheriff would find it and make a jump in logic. She was too naive to put so much trust in their ability to connect the seemingly obvious."
"Yes, shame." John said sarcastically.
"I believe Miss. Morstan acted on her own with the cigarette because if Moran would have known of it, he would not have sent out some of his men to threaten me."
They reached the Saloon and got off their horses. John patted his new horse's side affectionately. "There's a good girl, Pathfinder."
Sherlock gave a disgusted sigh as he tied up his horse. John smirked. "Do you want to know what I named your horse?"
"I am sure it is something completely plebeian." Sherlock finished tying the reins on the hitching post.
"Fine. I'll just see if you can deduce it." John laughed.
Sherlock's face soured. "Really John."
"What did you mean by 'shopping' when you mentioned Pathfinder?" John asked as he petted the horses snout. She was so soft and a fine creature. He couldn't remember the last time that a horse had been his own. Just looking at her filled John with pride. He would have to purchase grooming tools from Mrs. Hudson.
"As we entered 'The Velvet Whip', I took an inventory of all the horses. I then deducted its owner and bet the man until he had no remaining money. I proposed that he use his horse as collateral for the next game. He was foolish enough to believe that his losing streak would some how not hold up...that was when the 'ruckus' began." Sherlock said as they entered the Saloon.
John's eyes danced with glee. Oh, he had definitely made the right decision when he had came to White Gulch.
There was a lone piano playing in the saloon. The tables were mostly full and many tipped their hat as Sherlock and John passed. They couldn't ignore the proprietor in his own bar, even if they didn't like him. A mousy haired girl smiled at them from behind the bar. "Sherlock! The usual?"
"Yes, and one for John as well." Sherlock walked up and placed his hat on the bar. John eyed him for a minute and didn't have to ask if it was obvious about his family's drinking problems. John stopped himself from shaking his head in shame; he had never really thought about all the vices his family indulged in.
The girl returned, she looked barely over eighteen, and handed John a shot glass of warm whiskey. It burned going down and it was fantastic. John licked his lips trying to get every drop.
"Who might you be?" She said with a smile and leaned in closer.
"The name's John H. Watson, ma'am. I'm the new town doctor and deputy." He gave a quick nod.
"Oh, pleasure. Mike! Mike! It's the new Doctor!" The girl cupped her hand and called out to her left. "How rude of me. I'm Molly Hooper. The local bartender, although I second as the entertainment occasionally."
"She can also do lovely work with a corpse." Sherlock added.
Molly blushed. "Well, I-"
A man came up behind John and thumped him on the back. John hissed as the stranger's hand came too close to the knot of scar tissue on his shoulder. He gulped down his other shot of whiskey.
"You're the new doctor, huh?" The man extended his hand and gave John a warm smile. "Micheal Stamford. Just call me Mike. It's a pleasure. I thought I would met you earlier. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were out gallivanting around with Sherlock!"
John opened his mouth to offer some sort of excuse but he didn't have one. He didn't really have anything to say to defend what he had done. The liqueur felt thick in his throat. "I-um..."
Mike let out a roar of a laugh and thumped John on the back again. This time he couldn't hold back the cringe. "No worries, partner. It was a couple of sniffy noses at best. White Gulch is still just a sleepy outlaying town. If Sherlock needs you, then don't worry about it. I can handle the workload for now."
John turned to Sherlock and raised an eyebrow. Sherlock ignored it and looked past him at Mike. "Let me buy you a drink."
"Let it never be said that I looked a horse in the mouth! Molly, a shot of your best whiskey." He raised his beer and polished it off. He thudded the empty glass on the bar and let out a loud belch.
John shook his head. It was obvious the man was almost drunk. How had he missed it? Because you're still trying to put together everything else that has happened. Before John could gather his thoughts, another man approached them. Accept this one was met with a cold glare from Sherlock.
"Mr. Anderson." Sherlock didn't even try and hid the distain in his voice.
The other man didn't greet Sherlock and instead turned to John. "What did he have to do to you to make you tag along on his wild goose chase?"
John frowned. "Nothing. I volunteered." It might not be the complete truth (or anywhere near the truth) but Anderson looked like a rat and John had a feeling that even if he got to the know the man, he still wouldn't like him.
This made Anderson sneer. He looked at John like he didn't believe the words coming out his mouth were his own. "If you say so. Just know being 'friends' with riffraff like him won't make you a town favorite."
John fought the urge to strike the man. He was talking like Sherlock wasn't sitting a foot behind him. John tightened his hand into a fist and pursed his lips. "I'll kindly have you know, I can make my own decisions about whom I deem worthy to be my friends."
Anderson scoffed. "If you say so. Just know it's best to understand where your loyalties lie in White Gulch." He turned and dissolved into the crowd.
The silence was awkward between them and John finally spoke up. "I've never met such an coot in all my life. Miss. Hooper, might I have some water?"
She nodded and walked away. John turned to tell Sherlock that he didn't believe a word that Mr. Anderson had said. John almost forgot to breath at the look of pleased shock written all over Sherlock's face. He almost looked a if he was blushing.
It made John feel as if he had just defended a young maiden's honor. Mr. Anderson's rude words dissolved into nothingness and John enjoyed the rest of the evening with his new friends.
