Chapter Seven: Interruption
A/N: Just so you know, we are sat in a car in street writing this at 11.30pm (it looks like we are on a stakeout), as we've just got back from seeing The Hunger Games and we wanted to get this chapter finished before we parted ways. We thought it was a really good film, if a bit on the long side! It's made us want to read the books now. Anyway, we are nearing the finale with this fic, but this chapter is more of a filler. We think it's quite funny though and hope you do too. However be warned-there is an f-bomb!
Disclaimer: What with us being not Scottish, not male and not middle-aged, sadly we are not Moffat and Gatiss.
Sherlock, John and Lestrade walked out of the school gates, silently contemplating what Moriarty had said. Sherlock and John raced ahead, before John stopped abruptly when he realised Lestrade wasn't following and looked back at him, puzzled. "Aren't you going back to the station now?"
"Oh no, not just yet. You go on ahead in a cab, I know Sherlock prefers that," Lestrade replied.
"Oh, alright then," John called out to him as he hurried to catch up with Sherlock, who hadn't even acknowledged the hold-up. Just as he reached him, Sherlock had already hailed a cab, leaving John to quickly get in before it drove off. The two men sat in a stony silence as the cab whisked through the afternoon traffic of London.
"That was a bit weird back there, wasn't it?" John said, interrupting the silence. "I wonder why Lestrade didn't leave at the same time as us?" But his comment met no reply from Sherlock, who continued to stare out of the window. "Seems very strange…" John muttered.
"It's not that strange at all," Sherlock snapped suddenly. "He knows I don't like getting lifts from the police."
"Well, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I don't actually think his behaviour had anything to do with your transport preferences at all," John said to the window, smirking to himself. He allowed himself a brief glance in Sherlock's direction, and he could almost see the metaphorical smoke pouring out of his ears.
"As I was about to continue, it may also be something to do with the date that he's going on tonight," Sherlock explained self-righteously.
"Date?" John queried. "I didn't even know he had a girlfriend."
"Yes John, he's going on a date. I did tell you he had a girlfriend, but you mustn't have been listening. Anyway, It's obvious from his new overpriced aftershave, the fact that's he's actually ironed his shirt, bought a new tie, taken to wearing sterling silver cuff links, and not to mention that he's had his chest waxed," Sherlock reeled off.
John winced as he considered the prospect of his own chest hair ripped off his body.
Sherlock paused before continuing: "And of course he did have a condom in his front right trouser pocket which did somewhat giveaway his plans for this evening."
"Oh, well yes, that would make sense, I suppose," John muttered awkwardly, before jokingly adding: "at least someone's getting lucky tonight then."
Sherlock didn't appear to react to John's comment; instead he returned to staring intently out the window the cab for the duration of the journey home.
"We'll have a bottle of Chateau Lynch Bages, please," Lestrade told the waiter.
"Ooh that's sounds expensive," Carol said, clearly impressed.
"Ahh, only the best for you Carol," Lestrade said as he winked flirtatiously.
"So how was your week?" Carol asked, as she leaned in towards Lestrade.
"Stressful. Let's not even talk about work," Lestrade replied dismissively.
"That's probably a good idea; my job's been pretty awful recently. In all honesty, the thought of this date has been the only thing that's got me through this week," Carol said suggestively.
"How are the girls?" Lestrade asked, referring to Carol's two daughters.
"Oh they're with their pig of a father this weekend, so I've got the house free tonight."
Lestrade smiled to himself; he'd been hoping she would say that, at which point the waiter arrived and poured the wine into each of their glasses.
"Oh look at that ruby red colour," Carol said, gesturing to the wine. "It's beautiful isn't it? I love rubies!" Lestrade nodded, making a mental note to buy her some jewelry with rubies in as a gift at some point.
Sherlock's head perked up as he heard someone approach the steps of Baker Street. "Who's that?" he snapped at John.
"It must be Molly, I said she could come round and do my bandages," John explained.
"Oh, did you now?" Sherlock said in a disgruntled tone.
"Don't be so mean Sherlock; she's helping me out here."
"You're a doctor, John. Why can't you do it yourself?"
"I could, but it's a lot easier having someone to help me out," John reasoned.
"Now I'm going to have to listen to her stuttering for hours," Sherlock sighed.
"Oh don't be so mean," John said as he heard a knock at the door. "Come on up," he called out.
Molly bustled into the flat, with her big striped bag over her shoulder, carrying all the necessary medical supplies to redress John's foot. "Hi John! Oh and…umm…hi Sherlock." Sherlock didn't look up from the book he was reading, but merely gave a slight nod.
"Why are you reading the Qur'an? I didn't know you were a Muslim," Molly commented jokingly as she watched Sherlock read.
John laughed before Sherlock cut in with: "I'm not. I just like to read about different cultures in my spare time," dismissing Molly's joke entirely.
"Oh really, I thought you would be busy with the Stamford case," Molly replied.
"Well quite clearly I'm not," Sherlock said bluntly.
"Well, we are still working on it; we've got a new lead but there's a few things we need to consider before we move on with the investigation," John told Molly.
"Oh right, I see," Molly nodded, not wanting to pry any further.
"Anyway, do you want a cup of tea before you take a look at my foot?" John offered.
"Oh yeah, that would be great thanks," Molly said as she sat down in a chair next to Sherlock, and began asking him: "So, is it interesting then?"
"What?" Sherlock asked, looking at her absently.
"The Islamic culture, I've always found it fascinating. Why is it they don't eat pork again, something to do with pigs being sacred?"
Sherlock slammed down the book, giving up on trying to read as he knew he would be unable to concentrate. At that moment John came in, "I've made you a cup of tea Sherlock," he said setting the cup down beside him.
"Oh goody!" Sherlock exclaimed sarcastically.
"So what do you fancy for dessert then?" Lestrade asked his date.
"Well, actually I was thinking we could have our third course back at my place if you're ok with that," Carol said as she seductively fingered the rim of her wine glass.
"Oh, ok, sure, it'll save me some money on the bill I suppose!" he said.
Carol laughed but then she stopped suddenly when she realised that Greg hadn't been joking. "Oh, you're being serious! No, I didn't mean actual pudding, silly!"
"Oh, did you just mean coffee then?" Lestrade asked, puzzled.
"No Greg, I meant sex!" Carol told him.
"Oh!" Lestrade exclaimed, both shocked at her bluntness and embarrassed by his stupidity. "Of course you did, sorry, I'm just so out of practice. It's been twenty years since I was last going on dates. And besides, it's hard for me to believe that a beautiful woman would ever want to invite me back to their place for anything more than actual dessert."
"Oh, don't put yourself down," Carol scolded. "You're positively a hunk!"
"I don't know about that, but I mean I do try and go to the gym whenever I can!" Lestrade told her coyly.
"I can tell," Carol flirted. "Now how about we get the bill and head on back?"
"Yes, definitely. Excuse me, bill please," Lestrade called over the waiter hurriedly, eager to get on the evening's proceedings.
"Right, let me have a look at your foot John," Molly said, bending down to remove his bandages.
"Thanks again for doing this Molly," John said appreciatively.
"Oh my god!" Molly exclaimed as she uncovered John's foot. "This is really bad. You haven't been looking after it at all have you?"
"I've been trying, but we just been so busy with work and everything…" John attempted to explain.
"I think you're going to need to get this checked out at the hospital John; you might have an infection."
"Oh ok, I guess I'll pop by St. Bart's sometime this week then," John said, not sounding too concerned.
"No, you need to go now John. It's urgent, you might well have septicemia" Molly pressed. "Come on, me and Sherlock will come with you."
"I was actually hoping to read more of the Qur'an," Sherlock argued, reluctant to leave the flat.
"No. You're coming," Molly ordered, in an uncharacteristically forceful tone. Sherlock simply stared in disbelief at Molly's change in behaviour, unable to argue any further.
Molly quickly re-bandaged John's foot, as Sherlock got up and said, "I'll go and get us a cab."
After quickly fixing John's bandages, Molly rushed him out of the door. "Wait a second Molly, I just need to get my wallet," John started to say, before she slammed the door shut. "And my keys…" he added, however it was too late, as the door locked when she closed it.
"Don't worry, I'll pay for the cab," Molly reassured him, before pausing and realising that she too had left her bag inside the flat. "Oh no! My purse is inside too. Oh well, we will just have to get Sherlock to pay for once," she suggested as they began to make their way down the stairs, Molly supporting John, as he struggled not to put any weight on his damaged foot. When they reached the street Molly called out to Sherlock, "Is it alright if you pay for this journey, only John and I have left our money in the flat you see."
"I never really carry any money with me, John always pays for the taxi," Sherlock explained.
"Oh ok… well just give me your keys and I'll go back up and fetch my purse."
"I don't carry keys either; I usually leave that to John," Sherlock said, as he realised they were now locked out of the flat.
On overhearing this, the taxi driver interjected, "Well if you can't pay the fee, I'll be off," before driving away immediately.
"Oh, so do you have any spare keys under the mat?" Molly asked hopefully.
Sherlock tutted, as John said "No Sherlock won't allow that, poor security and all that."
"Well surely Mrs. Hudson must have a spare key."
"Yes she does, but it's a Thursday night so she will be at her Zumba class until 9," John said.
"Oh right, is there anyone you can call to give you a lift? Lestrade maybe?" Molly asked, rapidly running out of suggestions.
"Oh yeah, that's a good idea," John said, him and Molly both turning to stare at Sherlock.
"What?" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Well I can't do it, I'm incapacitated," John argued.
"And I haven't got his number," Molly added.
"Oh fine," Sherlock said exasperated, as he began to dial Lestrade's number.
Lestrade reversed into an empty space outside of the house, turned off his engine and quickly got out of the car, before practically sprinting after Carol towards her front door.
"Help yourself to a drink if you want, I'm just going to quickly go freshen up," Carol told him hospitability once they were inside.
Lestrade took her up upon the offer and poured both of them a glass of wine from the half-full bottle on the kitchen work top.
He then carried the glasses into the living room and placed them carefully on Carol's coffee table before sitting himself down on her plush sofa. He found himself breathing erratically, obviously anxious about the prospect of sleeping with another woman since his ex-wife. He began muttering under his breath, giving himself a pep talk.
'Greg, calm down, you're going to be fine, it's not like you've never done it before. Sure, it's been three years, but it doesn't just stop working. She may seem confident to you, but she's probably just as nervous as you are. Even if doesn't go the way you planned, I'm sure she'll understand and give you another chance. Oh, who are you kidding, of course it'll go well; you're fucking amazing in bed, remember.'
Just as he had finished his motivational speech, his phone started to ring. He looked at who was calling him, his phone said 'Sherlock'. 'Of course he would ring him now', Lestrade sighed. He ignored the first call and the second, and the third, but by the fourth he figured it must be important, so reluctantly answered.
"Dammit," he cursed to himself before asking "What the hell do you want Sherlock."
"That's not very polite," Sherlock stated.
"What do you want?" Lestrade repeated angrily.
"I need you to come down to Baker Street and take me, Molly and John to the hospital," Sherlock explained.
"What, why?" Lestrade asked.
"John's foot is infected, it's very green and full of puss, Molly fears he may develop septicemia."
"Christ! Really! That doesn't sound good," Lestrade said.
"No, it's not, which is why we need to take him to A&E immediately."
"Well, why can't you just get a cab?"
"None of us have any money on us and we're locked out of the flat."
"Of course you are. Well can't Mrs. Hudson..." Lestrade began.
"She's at Zumba class, she goes every Thursday apparently."
"Oh right, well is there anyone else you could ask for a lift?" Lestrade tried.
"No," Sherlock stated, "hence why I opted to phone you."
"Right, it's just it's really not a great time at the moment Sherlock," he explained.
"Well, I rather think the welfare of John's foot should really take priority right now, don't you?" Sherlock said, but Lestrade hadn't heard him; he was watching Carol walk down the stairs in the type of lingerie he had only ever seen on the girls who he had watched on his computer most nights for the past three years. His mouth dropped as he took in the sight of her.
"Is everything ok?" carol asked as she made her way down, noting that Greg was on the phone.
"Lestrade!" Sherlock boomed down the phone. "Are you listening to me?"
Lestrade snapped out of his trance and mouthed 'sorry' to Carol before returning to his phonecall.
"Sherlock, it's been three years, for Christ's Sake, did you really have to do this to me tonight of all nights?" he hissed down the phone in fury.
"Well, John hardly chose to develop an infection on this fine evening in particular. And besides, I scarcely think she's worth it anyway."
"What? Who?" Lestrade asked confused.
"You're new girlfriend obviously!"
"You're very much wrong there," Lestrade told him, aware that Carol was slowly approaching him.
"You do realise that's she's only with you with for your money. She's a notorious gold-digger, just ask her previous five husbands!"
"What are you talking about, there's only been one!" Lestrade explained as Carol, sensing his obvious stress, began to massage his shoulders.
"I think you know me well enough to know that I'm not lying. So, make you're excuses, leave immediately and meet us outside our flat, sharpish," Sherlock ordered heartlessly, before hanging up.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm going to have to go," Lestrade delivered the news to his company.
"What! Why would you want to do that?" Carol asked, astounded; she had never been rejected once in her life before, and she wasn't ready to have that record broken tonight.
"Trust me, I don't," Lestrade told her honestly. "It's just there's been a crisis and I've got to help some friends out. They're in an emergency and they really need me right now. I wouldn't go if it wasn't so urgent, but it is and I'm so, so sorry. Believe me."
"I see," Carol said, clearly fuming.
"Look, let me make it up to you, tomorrow. I'll take you out again," Lestrade offered.
"Fine, I suppose I could give you a second chance," she agreed.
"Thank you so much! I promise I'll make it worth the wait."
"Hmmm, you better do," Carol added.
Just as Lestrade kissed her goodbye he received a text: Where are you? Hurry up. John's foot could fall off at any moment. - SH
"Right, I better go, see you tomorrow, I'll pick you up from work and we'll go out for lunch. And as I said, I really am so sorry." Lestrade apologised once again before rushing out of his date's house.
A/N: We will be back to the main plot in the next chapter, but hope you enjoyed this one!