/ADULTS ONLY/ )18 !!!
Sherlock meets John/ Solves a murder.
This story may include the following:
-Drugs
-Violence
-English cursing
-Sensuality
-Graphic content
-Lying
-18 material
-Ect.
#ParentsAdvised
--
Start-
"Mr. Holmes."
Silence.
A loud, clearly fake cough, attempts to get the attention of the man.
"AHEM... Mr. Holmes?"
Silence.
"Oh dear, I hope he's not using again.." Says aloud the thoughts of the older woman.
The lady carefully turns the door knob, making a small squeak.
She stops, then listens for movement.
When she heard nothing, she continued to turn the knob until she heard a 'click'.
The door slightly opens.
"Okay..." The lady releases the door knob and picks up a tray carrying some tea supplies that were set on the ground.
She held the tray with both hands, and using her foot, she pushed the door open.
"MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock yelled and arose from his love seat.
Mrs Hudson was immediately startled and flung the tray into the air.
Sherlock ran over to the door where she stood and managed to catch the tea kettle. Everything else was on the floor, including a puddle of hot tea that spilt from the kettle.
Sherlock wore a dark gray bathrobe with the robe tie dragging on the ground. No shoes, only socks. His loose t-shirt he wore beneath the robe made him look very sloppy. His black suit pants did look nice though, just not with the rest of his outfit.
"Goodness! You startled me, Sherlock."
Sherlock was too busy seeing if there was tea left in the kettle to pay any attention to her.
"How silly of me, I guess I should clean up this mess." Mrs Hudson did a weird snort laugh that made sherlock spin around and walk away from her and into the kitchen.
"Should I grab some towels or napkins?" She questioned herself.
Mrs Hudson picked up the tray from the ground, and went out the door to put it away.
Sherlock placed the tea kettle on the table, next to a huge mess of what seemed to be a mix between food and cocaine.
He opened up one of the cabinets above the kitchen sink, then grabbed a spoon and a cup.
Mrs Hudson returned into sherlock's flat shortly after, and knocked on the open door.
"Yoo hoo, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson peeked her head in to see Sherlock's small living room.
"You know that I'm here, so if you would PLEASE stop being yourself, that tea is soaking into my carpet!"
Sherlock walked out of his small kitchen holding the tea cup.
"Aw! I forgot the napkins!" She waved her hands frantically in the air before walking back out the door and back down the stairs to get some.
Sherlock groaned and plopped in his love seat.
"I need a case." He took a sip of his tea then set it down on the coffee table before him.
He looked at all the papers on his walls, and something strange caught his attention. Sherlock quickly snatched the piece of paper from the wall, and because he yanked it too fast, it ripped in two.
"Bogie biggie arse!!" Sherlock cursed and went back to his chair.
Mrs Hudson ran up the stairs with, and counting, two paper towels.
"Sherlock! Watch that mouth of yours, that's quite rude, you know?!"
She had placed one of her hands on her hips, but now she was bent down and trying to soak up the already dry tea from the carpet.
"I do apologize, Mrs Hudson, but you aren't here to judge me on my language, rather to attempt to clean up your mess." He gave her a quick smile and looked back to his papers
"I'm not your housekeeper." She informed him while she pressed the paper towel into the carpet, nothing happening.
"NO?!" He yelled sarcastically.
"Sherlock, dear, don't raise your voice at me!" Mrs Hudson got up from the floor and picked up her paper towels.
"Or what? You'll spill tea on the ground, and leave it to soak into my carpet?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and put the two halves of the paper together to read.
"Now that's just rude! I came all the way up here to give you tea and-"
"OK!" Sherlock stood up from his chair and began to shoo her off.
"You won't be getting tea from me again! This is the last time I give-" she was interrupted by sherlock slamming the door.
"Cleaning ladies..." He mumbled off and went into his room.
He came back out of the room a few minutes later wearing much nicer clothes. He still wore the black pants, but changed his other shirt to a nice white collared shirt with a black tuxedo jacket overlaying it. And some black loafers.
A phone started ringing on Sherlock's kitchen counter.
He picked it up and continued to walk out of his flat.
"What is it?" Sherlock looked at his watch and quickly went down the steps.
"Yeah, it's me. I need you to come down here. There's been a murder." Said the voice from the phone.
Sherlock shoved the two halves of paper in his pocket.
"That's disappointing, I was expecting a toffee shop robbery, Gray." Sherlock grabbed his trench coat off the hook.
"Its Greg, and that would suck if that happened, I love toffee." He sighed on the phone.
"I know, I love toffee!" Sherlock's voice sounded excited at the subject.
"Yeah! There was this time-"
Beep.
He hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket. He didn't like interacting with people, and if he ever decided to really have a heart to heart conversation; it wouldn't be about toffee.
"Mrs Hudson, do me a favor and hire a maid to clean my flat." Sherlock slipped his arms through the sleeves of the trench coat and opened the front door.
"Sherlock! I forgot to mention something of utter importance and if you don't hear what I say I would have to call you on the phone at probably a time that would be the most unexpected and disastrous causing something bad to happen and it would be shocking to you when you hear the news then but it will turn out to be a good thing because you will need to hear what I'm saying at the time I tell you it."
Mrs Hudson took in a deep breath.
Sherlock was leaning against the wall asleep.
Mrs Hudson clapped her hands together loudly.
"I'M AWAKE!" Sherlock almost lost his balance and fell down.
"Oh, sorry, I fell asleep."
"I can see that! Did you hear a word I said!?" She asked aggravated.
"I did just say that I fell asleep, didn't I?"
Sherlock slipped out the front door.
"But, Sherlock!" She again was cut off by a door slam.
Sherlock waved down a taxi and hopped in, he gave the driver the address that Greg texted him, and went on his way.
-10 Minutes Later-
"What do we have here?" Sherlock slammed the taxi door shut and the cab drove off hastily.
"A murder." Greg said flatly.
Sherlock didn't respond.
He went into the apartment and in the elevator. Greg hopped in with him and stood very close to him as Sherlock clicked a button.
"You don't even know which floor we're going to." Greg informed him.
"4th floor." Sherlock put his hands in his trench coat's pockets.
"How did you know that..?"
"Elementary, George." Sherlock let out a chuckle.
"Tell me then.." He asked curiously.
"It's actually quite simple, you know how you get sometimes when you want to do stuff before everyone else?"
"Yes.." He still wasn't sure what Sherlock was getting at.
"Well, when you opened the cab door for me, you tried shutting the door before me. I did of course, but that's not all." Sherlock continued.
"Once we approached this apartment, you attempted to shove past me to get in before me. If it wasn't for one of your police men stopping you to ask you a question, you would've shoved me to the ground."
Greg was silent.
"And how I knew which floor, when I just clicked the '4' button you MASHED MY FINGER ATTEMPTING TO PUSH IT FIRST!"
Sherlock showed him his swollen finger.
"Uh w-well..." Greg stuttered a bit.
"Doesn't take a genius to know that either.." Sherlock held his finger.
"Wait a minute, but you clicked the 4 button first, that doesn't make sense!" Greg said as if he didn't hear ANYTHING else Sherlock said.
"Oh, the policemen who asked you a question asked- 'Where should I put this evidence I got from the fourth floor?'."
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
"Oh.." Greg and Sherlock walked out of the elevator, Greg of course raced out the elevator first.
Sherlock observed the crime scene around him once he entered the room. A dead women laid on her bed, blood stained most of the white sheets, blood dots outlined the rest of the bed.
There was 7-9 bullet wounds on her torso, it was hard to tell because the bullet holes were so close together it almost formed one big hole.
Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and got low to the ground. He looked under the woman's bed, but saw nothing of importance. Only a handkerchief with a bit a blood, a picture frame that was shattered, and an empty bullet shell.
Sherlock hopped up from the ground and walked over to the lady's dresser. He started observing everything on the counter, then slipped on a pair of rubber gloves.
"What are you doing? Shouldn't you observe the body?" Greg went next to sherlock to see what he was looking at.
"Do you see this jewelry box?" Sherlock picked it up carefully and opened it.
"Yeah, it's a box, what's special about it?" Greg tried taking it from him but Sherlock jerked it away.
"Absolutely nothing." Sherlock tossed the box behind him and it landed on the dead body.
"I know who the killer is, where he is, and I know why he did it."
"Okay then." Greg crossed his arms and took a step back.
"Tell me."
"It was a police officer." Sherlock put his magnifying glass in his pocket.
"What? How?" Greg lowered his arms to his sides.
One of the detectives in the back started to right down what Sherlock said.
"It's simple, really. This lady has a phone beside her, right?"
"Yes." Greg agreed with him.
"Wrong! There is no cellphone or any device of hers in this apartment!" He walked over the side table beside her bed and pointed to it.
"She has multiple pieces of paper reading her number, she clearly likes to freely give her number out."
"How do you know that?" Greg walked over to Sherlock to try and take the piece of paper.
"Prostitute? I don't know, don't you have her background?" Sherlock picked up the paper before Greg can.
"But you said-"
"Nothing of the sort, the point is that there is one of those pieces of paper in her hand, but no phone. The problem is that the paper in her hand reads a false number. The murderer cop put it in her hand to throw you off." Sherlock took the piece of paper from the girls clutches.
"Okay, we don't know for sure it's a cop." Greg stated, sure that a cop wouldn't do this.
"But it is a cop, you just talked to him. Remember the cop who asked you where to put this victims belongings?" He reminded him.
"What!? Yes, I remember!"
"I knew it was him from when you talked to him, I just didn't tell you. The evidence he was carrying was fine, but there was a bloody phone in his back pocket. I'm sure once you retrieve the phone you will find that the lady contacted 911, he came, something happened, other stuff, death." Sherlock trailed off and then took off his rubber gloves.
"Firstly, you should probably be way more specific, and secondly- WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE WE ENTERED THE BUILDING!!" Greg snatched the paper from Sherlock and crumbled it up.
"You were being annoying, and you SMASHED my finger!" Sherlock rudely reminded him.
"I did that after!"
"There wouldn't have been an 'after' if you weren't so needy to do things FIRST!" Sherlock stormed out the apartment room.
Greg hurried after him.
"I can't believe you! You know what, forget it! You're fired!" Greg followed sherlock into the elevator.
"You never hired me! I don't work for you!" Sherlock yelled and began to push the elevator button.
SMOOSH.
Greg had again, smooshed his finger trying to push the button first.
"MY FINGER!" Sherlock held out the same finger that Greg injured before.
"I was trying to click it first! You got in the way!" Greg defended himself.
"UGH!" Sherlock groaned in frustration.
The elevator dinged and Sherlock marched out of the elevator once the doors slid open. He tried not to say a word to him, knowing it would only make him more mad.
As Sherlock walked out the exit, along with Greg, a couple of bystanders came from their left and nearly ran the two of them over.
"Watch where you're going, Pillock!" Sherlock waved his fist at the fleeing strangers.
People were screaming where a crowd was. They ran over to see what was going on.
Sherlock shoved his way to the front of the crowd. And what stood in front of him, was the murderer officer.
He was holding a gun up to a strangers head.
"No one move! Or I shoot!" The officer started backing away from the crowd. The FBI was already there and had men pointing guns at him.
"Let her go, and no one gets hurt." Greg yelled from behind Sherlock.
"Shut up! He'll think I said that!" Sherlock loud whispered to Greg.
"WHO SAID THAT!?" The officer was now pointing a gun to the crowd.
Greg pushed Sherlock forcefully forward.
The bad officer pointed the gun at Sherlock.
Sherlock turned his head to Greg.
"You lazy sod.." Sherlock manages to get out before the officer yelled again.
"HEY! No talking!!" The officer pointed the barrel to the female hostage.
"Okay." Sherlock put his hands up.
"I said no talking! I'll shoot her!"
Sherlock begins to back away knowing that between the lady and him, it's clear who's more useful.
"STOP!" He pointed the gun back Sherlock.
"I've stopped." He sighed in annoyance.
"How come you'll stop moving when I say 'Stop moving', but when I say 'SHUT UP' you keep TALKING!!?!"
A couple FBI agents have a clear shot on the cop through a sniper scope. All they need to do is wait for him to release the hostage.
Sherlock looked around, realizing he can't run any where. He is aware that the FBI agents could easily take down the guy if he were to let go of the hostage, if even for a second.
His gaze shifted to the buildings, he glanced up to see a sniper posted high on the buildings on either side of him.
"What's your name?" Sherlock stepped toward the man, his hands still raised and pointed to his head.
"Why should I tell you?" The officer started twitching, he must've be suffering from an illness.
"Are you suffering from an illness?" Sherlock bluntly asked the man.
"N-no... I d-don't know what you m-mean.." The officer responds distressed.
"I th-think you are." Sherlock mocked him, in attempt to relate to the man.
"Y-your making f-fun of me!" His hand started to fidget.
"How about this, I know people in the Government. If you let the hostage go, we can work something out." Sherlock said negotiating, and took a step closer.
"No, y-you won't! Y-you lie!"
"No, I'm being completely honest. My name is Sherlock Holmes. Now tell me yours."
The officer hesitated, loosing his focus.
"You're that idiot consultant? I have two brothers that got the death penalty cause of you!" His grip loosened on the women.
"Is that so..?" Sherlock laughed awkwardly.
He then continued-
"Just let her go, she has no part in this, let's just both walk out of here alive." Sherlock sincerely suggested.
The man was quiet, he was unsure on what he should do.
After a few minutes...
"So, is that a yes or what? I can't wait all day. Offer expires soon.." Sherlock now had his arms to his side and looked bored.
"I-" The officer didn't even respond, and Sherlock managed to run up to him and slap the gun out of his hands.
"He's unarmed! Shoot him!" Sherlock jumped back and the hostage ran off crying.
A perfect shot to the temple killed the officer, and he fell to the ground.
"Ha! ... Wait... he was unarmed.."
Sherlock thinks over what he has just done.
"Isn't it illegal to shoot an unarmed man?" Greg commented and walks to Sherlock.
"I think so, Jared..." Sherlock rubs his chin, then looks up to one of the buildings the sniper was at.
All the other officers look up as well.
The sniper slowly moves down from the window, and away from the people's view.
"I've done my job, and yours! So, you're welcome." Sherlock pats Greg on the back and started to walk away.
"You did my job? My job doesn't order someone killed when they're unarmed!" Greg dead panned.
Sherlock's phone started to ring.
He reached his hand into his pocket and pressed a button, putting the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" Sherlock greeted the caller.
"Oh, Sherlock! You didn't let me finish talking to you earlier!"
Sherlock stood on the sidewalk and sighed.
"It can wait till I get back, good day."
He hung up.
"Doesn't that lady know I have zero respect for her?" He thought.
A red car was speeding passed several cars in the distance. Two drunk men were covering each other's eyes while they both attempted steering the car wheel.
"Hey, Sherlock. Can you check this out?" Greg waved at him.
Sherlock started walking back in the street, and that's when he got hit by the car, and died.
...
Okay, he wasn't hit by the car.
Sherlock quickly turned his head to see the speeding car, and RIGHT before the car flattened him- a random guy just JUMPED on Sherlock and tackled him to the ground.
The car sped passed them, so they were safe.
"GET OFF ME!" Sherlock tried punching him several times.
Sherlock missed several times.
"Stop it! I just saved you!"
"GEORGE! HELP!"
The man got off of Sherlock and stepped away.
"I just saved his life!" He acted shocked by everyone else's reaction.
Most of the people totally missed him saving Sherlock, they all had their heads turned. Then once he tackled Sherlock, they all saw he was doing.
Sherlock got up to his feet and brushed his coat off.
"Oh, well thank you, then." He corrected his mistake.
The man held out his hand.
"I'm John Watson." The man said as Sherlock shook hands with him.
"But some may know me, as Dr. Watson."
Sherlock put his hands in his coat pockets.
"Never heard of you." He turned around and waved at a cab.
"Oh... that fine. I just wanted you to know I'm a doctor." John awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
"Is that why you shoved me away from the car?" Sherlock questioned.
"I don't understand." He said confused.
"Doctors save lives."
A cab pulled up next to Sherlock and he opened one of the doors.
Sherlock's phone rung again.
He picked it up and answered.
"LADY, LEAVE ME ALONE!" He yelled at her.
"Sherlock, I won't call you again. But I was about to say, that if you don't start paying your bills, I'm going to have to throw you out in a week."
"A week!? I don't have bloody money! And if I did, I definitely wasn't going to give any of it to you, witch!" He hissed at the phone.
John stood there awkwardly, he pat the sides of his legs a few times then exhaled.
"Sherlock, if you don't want to pay for your flat, then you'll need to get a flatmate." She suggested to him, then hung up the phone
John began to walk away from him, he wanted no part of this guy.
"John! Dr. John Watson!" He raced after him then stopped him.
"Uh, yes?" John said startled.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes, how would you like to be my flatmate?"
"I don't know, I don't have anywhere to go right now. But-" Sherlock abruptly cut him off.
"I know, you just came back from a war, you have a fake limp, and your sister is a drunkard." Sherlock told him.
John punched him hard in the gut out of retaliation.
"WHAT?!" He yelled, outraged at sherlock's little 'comments'.
"That came out wrong.." Sherlock wheezed out.
"I think it did to." John narrowed his eyes at him.
"I'm sorry... but- " Sherlock straightened himself out, then went on.
"I wasn't trying to insult you, or your sister."
"So, you knew you were insulting me?" John tightened his fist.
Sherlock ignored his stupid question and continued on.
"It's a curse of mine, some may say it's a gift..." He looked off into the distance.
John followed Sherlock's gaze, trying to see what he was looking at.
"It can be a gift, it helps me to know things. But yet, it's still a curse somehow."
"How can it be a curse and a gift?" John gave up trying to see what Sherlock was looking at.
"SOMEHOW!" Sherlock fixed his gaze on him.
"Please, I need a flatmate. Why don't you check out the place, then tell me if you're interested." Sherlock pleaded, knowing he needed the money.
Before John could answer, the cab window rolled down.
"Would one of you GET IN ALREADY!? You've even blabbing for TEN MINUTES!" The man yelled and honked the horn.
Sherlock hastily got in the cab and slammed the door. He rolled the window down then poked his head out.
"Should I get in with you?" John asked.
"Nah, I like riding by myself, it helps me think. Take the next one."
"How will I know where you live?" John asked, now he was annoyed.
"You'll just know." Is all he responded.
Sherlock put on some shades while the window automatically went up.
The cab zoomed off leaving a huge puff of smoke where John stood.
"Seriously?!?!" John waved the smoke out of his face.
Greg noticed John talking to Sherlock. By noticed, I mean Greg was eavesdropping on the whole conversation.
"Oh, you want to know where Sherlock lives?" Greg extended his arm out for a handshake.
"I'm not so sure anymore.."
John shook his hand.
"I'm Greg, and that guy lives on 221B Baker Street." He informed.
"Thank you. I guess I should be going then." He put one hand in his pocket and waved him with the other goodbye.
"Okay, bye!"
--
Sherlock practically bursted down the front door.
He took off his trench coat and hung it up along with his scarf.
"Mrs Hudson!" He yelled and scurried up the stairs to his flat.
"Oh boy..." Mrs Hudson sighed and took off her apron. She was trying to cook in the kitchen before Sherlock got back, but she wasn't fast enough.
As she was walking up the steps, she heard loud 'thumps' and the a vacuum cleaner turn on.
She opened the door to see Sherlock moving things around.
"Are you tidying up?" She asked confused then waved some dust out of her face.
"Aren't you CLEVER!" He stated to her sarcastically.
Sherlock continued to vacuum the floor until something clogged it up.
"Mrs Hudson, something is wrong with your vacuum.." He squat down to try and see the problem.
"My vacuum? I thought it was yours!" She said annoyed and grabbed the vacuum handle.
"Why would it be mine?" He stood up then kicked the bottom of the vacuum.
"Don't kick it! You'll only make it worse!" She pulled the vacuum away from him.
The sound of a hard object banging around in the vacuum got louder.
"If I'm not mistaken, I'd say that I've vacuumed up a bullet." He pondered the thought, then dropped to the ground to look for any more bullets.
"A bullet?" Mrs Hudson went to unplug the vacuum but Sherlock stopped her.
"You may not want to do that, not unless you want the vacuum to catch on fire!" Sherlock picked up an empty bullet shell from the ground
"Good news, this bullet shell is empty!" He held it out for her to see.
"I can't take this anymore! I'm unplugging it!" With that said, she unplugged the vacuum.
And then the vacuum caught of fire.
"Fire!" She screeched and jumped onto his table.
"Get off my table!" He yelled and grabbed her by the leg.
"No! I'll die!" She said persistently and kicked his face.
"You little-"
John stood at the doorway in utter confusion.
"Dr. Watson... this isn't what it looks like." Sherlock released Mrs Hudson's leg.
"What's it supposed to look like?"
John asked while looking around the room.
"THE FIRE!" Mrs Hudson interrupted while pointing to the fire.
"Get off my TABLE!" Sherlock grabbed her and tried pulling her down again.
John grabbed a fire extinguisher from outside the room and sprayed it on the fire. The fire immediately went out and John went over to Mrs Hudson and offered her his hand.
"You can come down now, the fire is out." He assured her.
"What a gentleman!" She took his hand then jumped down from the table.
Sherlock stood there in shock.
"Well done..." He said and scratched his head.
"I'm sorry for barging in like this, but the front door wasn't locked, and I heard someone yell 'fire'."
"That's was me!" Mrs Hudson raised her hand gleefully.
"I'm John, it's nice to meet you." He said to the older woman.
"Just call me Mrs Hudson." She gave him a hug.
"Yeah, I need to talk with Sherlock Holmes for a minute, alone." He said to her politely.
"As in leave, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock walked to the door and gestured for her to get out.
"So rude." She huffed then walked out the door.
"But Sherlock, I need the payme-"
He slammed the door, then turned to John.
"She was still talking." John said as if Sherlock did that on accident.
"I know, but that's the only way to end a conversation with her.
Sherlock went into the kitchen.
John walked passed the vacuum and the foam on the floor to see where Sherlock went.
"Nice place you have here." He lied and looked around at the chaotic living space Sherlock would call home.
"Thank you, I was trying to clean up before you arrived."
Sherlock sighed.
"Then you arrived.."
"It smells odd in here." John placed his hand under his nose.
"Odd?" Sherlock quickly tossed a bag of drugs in the trash.
"I don't know what you mean..."
He went out of the kitchen holding a cup of tea.
"Tea?" He offered John.
"No thanks." He tried breathing in as little as possible.
"So, what do you think? Do you want to stay?" Sherlock's hands started to tremor and he set the tea down and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"It can work. You'll have to give me a couple days to move in, though."
John coughed and put his other hand under his nose, trying to not make it too obvious that he's avoiding inhaling air.
Suddenly, Mrs Hudson flung the door open.
"Oh, you're staying! That's great!"
She went over to John and gave him a cup of tea from downstairs.
"Yes, I will be." He smiled and put the tea to his nose to smell if anything was wrong with it.
"Are you going to be needing two rooms?" She asked and clapped her hands together.
"Of course two rooms, why wouldn't there be?" He looked to Sherlock who was literally vibrating in place.
"Oh, nothing!" Mrs Hudson responded and left the room, closing the door behind her.
John set his tea down and began to walk to the door.
"I'll see you in a couple of days, hopefully this place is... sanitary by then." He said discouraged.
"It's not usually like this, it won't be even close to looking like this when you get here." Sherlock assured him an picked up his tea.
"Hopefully you get clean too, I can't be living with a drug addict." He opened the door and left.
Sherlock plopped down in his love seat, and took a drink of his tea.
"How'd he know I was a drug addict?" Sherlock looked at the view of his kitchen.
Anyone from the living room could see packets of powder and needles stashed on top of the fridge.
"I should've... moved those.."
Sherlock set the tea on his side table and closed his eyes.
-Finish
End of "ONE SHOT, Sherlock meets Watson/Solves a murder.
Note: Okay, so if you're mad about there being no sensuality, I did say-
"This story MAY include the following:"
May, as in, maybe.
Sorry to disappoint all you SMUT LOVERS.
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