Chapter 37
Sherlock smirked at his brother. Mycroft glared back at him.
"Don't be smart. I'm the smart one," Mycroft said. "Even our psychopath sister was smarter than you."
"Our psychopath what now?"
"In fact, we both used to think you were a complete idiot, until we met…" The lighting dimmed. "Other children."
"Oh, yes, that was a complete mistake."
"We were probably trying to make friends," Microsoft said. "But you go in for that sort of thing now, don't you?"
"And you don't? Ever?" Sherlock asked.
"No…" Mycroft said, thinking about how he had been crushing on Lady Smallwood since third grade.
"Well, London's terror threat is on critical," Sherlock said, standing up. "So let's play another game."
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Why are we playing games?"
"You'll see." Sherlock turned on the TV.
-One Hour Later-
Mycroft growled as he crashed his car yet again. They were taking turns playing GTA 5 and Mycroft's reaction time was clearly lacking. "Okay, just one more try. I'm busy, I have to get back to work."
Sherlock grabbed the controller and successfully stole a plane from the military base. He crossed his arms over his face and recited Big Smoke's order.
Mycroft crashed another car and was swiftly mugged. "Where's the umbrella gun?" he grumbled.
"The fucking what?"
"Dammit." Mycroft winced as he fell off the docks and a shark ate him. A few minutes later, a hooker came up to him. "Uh…" His hands started sweating. "Sherlock, what do I do?"
"Oh, right, I forgot you have even less experience with woman than I do. And that's saying something!" Sherlock laughed heartily.
Mrs Hudson walked in and watched them argue over the controller. She, of course, had already completed all fifteen games. "Scrubs."
"Sherlock, this man clearly isn't trustworthy! Look at the buttons on his shirt! We should have taken the other sidequest!"
Sherlock smirked and leaned back. "Exactly."
"What?"
"You heard me."
-John's GP Office-
Mary walked in with a smile. She saw John sitting in his office chair, staring blankly at the wall with an intense expression.
"Uh...John? Mr Summerson is here to see you."
John kept staring at the wall. Mary left.
-Baker Street-
Once Mycroft had left, Sherlock had returned to work. Mrs Hudson walked in to see him drawing a mustache on a picture of a man taped onto the wall.
"Sherlock?"
"What?"
"Talk to John."
"I've already tried talking to him," Sherlock said, not looking up from his work. "He won't respond to me."
Slowly, Mrs Hudson turned to the balloon sitting in John's chair. The red inflatable object had a picture of Martin Freeman taped to the front. "And what did he say?"
"F…" Sherlock trailed off into silence.
"What?"
"Don't worry, it'll make cinematographic sense."
-Somewhere Else-
"Cough," John said.
-221Bitches-
Molly knocked on the door of 221b and walked in. "You wanted to see me?"
"No," Sherlock said. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"
"Uh…"
"Wait." Sherlock deduced Molly. She could serve as a John replacement...that is, if he squinted his eyes until they were closed and pictured John in her place. He stood up and walked towards her. "Would you like to…"
"Get rid of this stupid unrequited love subplot the writers keep forcing me into?"
"Solve crimes?" Sherlock said at the same time.
"What?"
"What?"
-Doc's Office-
John was writing a prescription for one of his patients. Mary knocked on the door. The pen in John's hand snapped.
-221b-
"The matter at hand is quite distressing. And we hope you will find this problem pressing. So says Mr. Stewart."
Sherlock and Molly stared at the weird pair of clients before them. Mr. Stewart was a man in a wheelchair who wore a gas mask and only spoke to his companion, a man in a white suit who then relayed the information in rhyming pairs.
"Do you normally get clients like this?" Molly whispered to Sherlock, who was still trying to deduce how to wheelchair got to the second floor.
-Johnny's Place-
"It's just a small infection," John explained to the old man sitting in his office.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the old man replied in a thick accent. He had long white hair and sunglasses. "I run a shop, you know. I brought some DVDs you might like." He started pulling DVD cases out of a sketchy plastic bag. "Here we go. Land and Freedom, that's a good one. Man of Marble is also a gem."
"I'm fine, thanks," John said.
"This one is a classic," the old man continued as though he hadn't heard John. "Though you really just wanna fast forward to the part where they put all the Yankee Candles in a blender. Then it gets real spicy."
"Why are you here, Sherlock?" John asked, a vein pulsing in his temple. "Are you just here to torment me?"
"What are you talking about?"
John leapt up and tore off the man's hat and glasses. "It's not even that good of a disguise, Sherlock! And your accent is even worse than your French!"
"Are you crazy?" the man tried to defend himself, but to no avail as his beard was pulled off.
John gasped as he uncovered the man's disguise.
Bernie Sanders stood up, fists clenched in rage. "Why, I outta…" The US Senator socked John in the face.
-Half an hour later-
John woke up to see Mary standing over him.
"Falling asleep on the job again, John?"
He looked around wildly, sitting up from where he had slumped down in his chair. Senator Sanders was nowhere to be seen.
-A basement somewhere-
Sherlock and Molly were on their first case together. Lestrade had shown them a recently-discovered room which contained a skeleton sitting at a desk. Sherlock immediately went over and sniffed at the skeleton. He then fell to the floor, choking and writhing as centuries worth of dust was vacuumed into his nasal system at high speeds.
"Are you okay?" Molly asked. She ducked as the words Pine Spruce Cedar New mothballs nearly hit her in the face.
Once Sherlock had recovered, he took out his phone to try and get a signal.
"You're onto something, aren't you?" Molly asked.
"Yeah, probably."
Show off, John's voice whispered in Sherlock's head.
"Shut up, John."
"What was that?" Molly asked.
"John isn't here and I miss him terribly."
Lestrade woke up from sleeping on the desk. "Say what?"
"I said you're ugly shut up."
-Doctor's Office-
Mary walked in to check on John. There were hundreds of broken popsicle sticks on the desk, and he was staring blankly at the wall once more.
-Skeleton Basement-
Sherlock inspected one of the skeleton's hands while Molly looked at the neck. He went to blow the dust on the hand away.
"That doesn't make any sense," Molly said. "This skeleton can't be any older than six months old."
Sherlock gasped, subsequently inhaling more dust and dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes. On his way down he accidentally opened a hidden compartment in the desk. Inside it was an old book.
"How I Did It, by Jack the Ripper," Molly read since Sherlock was still incapacitated.
"How he did what?" Lestrade mumbled.
"This is all fake," Sherlock proclaimed, standing up. "It's a set up. I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you."
"No, please. Insult away," Greg said. "I guess."
"Your mom." Sherlock insulted. He threw on a pair of sunglasses, and walked away, but since he couldn't see where he was going in the dim room, he ended up tripping over the skeleton and crashed to the floor for the third time. Greg and Molly watched in silence as he disentangled himself and felt his way over to the door.
"Why would someone go through all that trouble?" Molly wondered.
"Why indeed, John," Sherlock said. He stumbled up the stairs. Moments later, they heard a loud crash and Sherlock's surprised scream, which was cut off as he landed back in the basement. Molly bent over and took the sunglasses off his face.
As you can see I play a lot of video games... Did anyone get the reference from Sherlock and Molly's clients?
I can't remember if I've said this before, but quick shoutout to sherlockian-quiet for being a real MVP and supporting me throughout this whole thing. I appreciate it more than you know.
Sidenote, I started a sherlock sideblog called smallcroft where i post more shitty fan fiction. Feel free to follow.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think. It helps me out a lot.