Sorry for the slightly late update… hope you enjoy!
5: Romance and Dead people
"Gay marriage has been legalized in the United Kingdom," the bored looking news reporter stated in a monotone. Sherlock smirked from under John's arm, and picked up his phone. Hamish was curled up between the pair of them, interested in only his children's encyclopaedia- at two years old, he could already read, and was starting to develop his vocabulary at an alarming rate.
John ignored the headline- as if Sherlock would ever get married. They'd most likely carry on their partnership indefinitely, John had concluded, and pushed the idea of a fancy wedding out of his brain completely.
"Daddy, what's that?" Hamish asked to both parents. Sherlock didn't respond, so John leaned over to look the picture Hamish was pointing to. The picture illustrated a Roman aqueduct, which John quickly explained. Admittedly, John's knowledge of Roman architecture wasn't extensive, and Hamish looked unsatisfied- he disappeared into Sherlock and John's bedroom to search for more books containing information. John turned back to the news, wishing he didn't live with two geniuses.
"So, shall I ask Mycroft to bring the papers round?" Sherlock said casually.
"Mm?" John replied, concentrating on the story about a car crash. Sherlock finished a text, before speaking again.
"The marriage papers," John took a sip of tea, but immediately choked on it. He whipped round to look at Sherlock, who was looking earnestly at him.
"…excuse me?" John stuttered, wondering if the detective was playing some sort of joke on him. Sherlock blinked, and moved away from under John's arm, so he could sit up straight.
"Well, we'll get married, won't we? The legal benefits are more advantageous than not, and parental issues could be resolved easier if we were legally-"
"You have said many times that marriage is pointless," John cut him off. Sherlock nodded in agreement, but snaked his hand onto John's knee.
"Most marriages are about status and self worth. However, I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, so I believe it is prudent to bind myself to you legally," the detective said, completely calm and composed. John stared at his boyfriend in disbelief, but finally regained his wits.
"Your romantic proposal has astounded me," he said dryly. Sherlock rolled his eyes, and leaned closer.
"John," he breathed, "You're my universe. You are my sun, my reason for living-" John pushed him playfully, and the detective looked genuinely surprised as he fell back against the sofa arm rest.
"Let's not over do it," John whispered, leaning over Sherlock. Sherlock's pupils dilated, and he quickly wrapped his arms around John's neck, pulling him down so their lips collided. John smiled against Sherlock's mouth, and moved his hands to cup his angular jaw, loving the sound of the other man's moans.
"Is that a yes?" Sherlock asked, pressing his forehead against John's. John smirked, and nodded.
"Since you begged,"
"So there is no chance that a weapon could have been smuggled in?"
Sherlock glared at the Librarian, who looked as if she was about to burst into the tears. She nodded, and pointed a shaking finger towards the computer, which displayed security camera footage. There was no indication of anything suspicious being smuggled in, but John knew better than to trust a security camera. Sherlock's piercing gaze dissected the footage of the public entering the library, but he eventually sighed and leant back.
"Show me the footage of the murder," he asked the librarian grudgingly. She obediently showed the recording of a young woman casually opening a book, then crumpling to the floor. Dead within half a second. John grimaced- he never got over how stiff and cold the bodies looked- and instead focused on the rest of the team. Lestrade was barking orders at Anderson, who was examining the body. That had yet to unleash Sherlock upon the body, so they weren't getting anywhere.
Finally, Lestrade straightened up, and caught John's eye, motioning him over. Glad to rescue the librarian from Sherlock's lack of manners, John grabbed his husband's arm, and began to pull him towards the dead woman. Sherlock linked his fingers with John's, now a natural response. John allowed himself a smirk as their wedding rings rubbed together, but pulled a sombre expression as his eyes fell upon the corpse. She was young, blonde and pretty- not an unusual choice of a victim. Sherlock scanned her, and pulled his hand from John's grasp to delve into her pockets.
"In her twenties, and no children- her figure tells us that. Recently divorced- you can tell from the tan lines on her finger. However, she has a multiple affairs ongoing- four phones in her pocket, with different alerts for different people. Lives in London, according to the train tickets- she frequently catches the tube from South Kenton. Material, and shallow- her personal phone has smudges all over where you press the phone to take a picture- prone to taking pictures of herself," Sherlock explained quickly. Although he wasn't as vocal about it, it still never ceased to amaze John how Sherlock could tell all this within seconds. He offered Sherlock an appraising half smile which the detective returned, before demanding the fatal book from Lestrade.
John skulked over to the security cameras once more, searching the footage for any clues. His sharp eyes focused on the woman's nails- Sherlock had taught him to always pay attention to a woman's nails. Bitten ones show anxiety, and long ones show feminism and impracticality etc. Theses nails were medium length, painted clear, and shaped. Neat but professional.
John's gaze fell upon the page that she was skimming at time of death- page 13. Underneath the page number were the words 'Revenge, as always, is best unexpected'. Surely this meant something? John was no detective, but this seemed deliberate, and therefore they were dealing with somebody very intelligent and therefore dangerous.
John checked his phone- one hour until Hamish needed picking up. Sherlock better solve this one fast, John thought grimly as he pressed the print button.
"Get me information on her social life- lovers, friends, family. This book was meant for her, and only her. She knew the murderer, because she immediately turned to the page which caused her death," Sherlock instructed the force. He turned to the page itself, and drew a finger down the paper. Deductions were no doubt forming in the detective's mind, and he turned to John.
"I need to get to Bart's. I think it was something to do with the page itself, but I'll need to examine it,"
John looked at Lestrade for approval, but the inspector shook his head, and pulled the book from Sherlock's grasp.
"That's police evidence, Sherlock. Our team will examine it,"
Sherlock let out an exasperated groan, and pointed a furious finger at Anderson's team.
"Your team is incompetent-" Sherlock was cut off by Donovan rushing over to the party, holding a piece of paper.
"One of her lovers was married to a woman who works in book printing. She could have done anything to the book," she said triumphantly, her eyes shining. Lestrade looked thoroughly impressed, and John had to admit this seemed like a likely option. But, as ever, Sherlock was impassive.
"Wrong," he said dismissively, and began to stalk away, before John grabbed his arm for what seemed like the fiftieth time today.
"Sherlock, explain, or I'll hide your ridiculous honey supply," John threatened, ignoring the slightly amused faces of the Scotland Yard police officers. Sherlock insisted that kept the honey for experiments, but truthfully he was very fond of the substance. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but grabbed the picture from Sally's hands.
"As if you could ever hide anything from me," he said scornfully, before pulling out his phone and typing something in.
"The murder is too intimate for the wife of her lover. That kind of revenge is fuelled by pure hate, so a gun or knife would be preferable. This was a wonderfully intricate, well planned murder- almost untraceable. So it had to be someone who knew her better than anyone. So, a lover is looking likely. But, not just the one night stand kind of lover- someone she was with for….oh I don't know…thirteen years," Sherlock held out his phone, looking delightfully smug. A picture of an awkward balding man filled the screen, along with the caption.
Keith Granger, author of 'A modest summer in India'. He has recently stated his book is dedicated to his ex-wife of thirteen years, Rochelle Smith.
John glanced at Sherlock, and gave him a smirk. Sherlock's eyes were bright and hopeful, and John could never resist him when he looked like that.
"Well I suppose we'll have to pay him a visit," John said, trying to look neutral. Donovan seemed furious at being outsmarted, but Lestrade, appraising as ever, started making calls to procure transport to the author's house.
"So what, he rigged the book somehow so that only she would turn to that page? How did he know that someone else wouldn't pick it up?" John asked Sherlock once the officers began to leave. Sherlock picked up his scarf from the table, and began knotting it around his neck.
"Well the librarian was clearly in on it. He paid her to only put the book on the shelves once Miss Smith entered the building," he said as they began to stride towards the exit. Impulsively, after checking the hallway was empty, John pushed Sherlock against the wall.
"We can't kiss, it's a crime scene," the detective breathed, aware of the bulge in his trousers and John's proximity to his lips.
"That never stopped you before," John murmured, wishing that Sherlock wasn't so bloody gorgeous. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist, and crashed his lips against the smaller man's. It was a mess of tongues and teeth, but the high of a crime scene always did this to them.
"Stop snogging, we've got a murderer to catch," Lestrade yelled irritably from the car after what could have been forever. Sherlock started giggling and John couldn't help but join in as they marched towards the curb to hail a taxi.
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