AN: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a Sherlock story but I feel like it should be promising. I am addicted to the show and Sherlock is such an amazing complex and dynamic character I hope I can do him justice. Let me know what you think!
"John!... John?" The detective yelled while barreling up the stairs of 221B Baker Street. He burst through the door and spun in a circle, lost in the chaos of his mind palace so much so that John could practically see the detective's thoughts spinning about his head. "I've got it John, don't you see?" He shouted waving his arms about like the madman he truly is.
John sat comfortably in his arm chair staring at his best friend with an increasing amount of impatience. "Clearly not. Care to elaborate?" John replied, annoyed. He put the paper he was reading next to the cuppa Mrs. Hudson made him not twenty minutes ago. Sherlock was still pacing the flat with his eyes closed, swatting unnecessary thoughts awake when his eyes snapped open again.
"How would she have known where to find his body if she hadn't talked to her husband in over three months. She claimed they had no contact but that was a lie. I assumed she was covering up the fact that she still slept him regularly. I think they call it hate sex?" he made quotation gestures with his hands, clearly confused by the idea. "Though," he admitted "I really don't understand the concept of "hate sex" if you hate the person I think someone would rather avoid said person instead of remaining in close physical proximity but no matter..." He trailed off. "Ah yes! The wife! It's always the wife I was careless and overlooked a minor detail..." He was silent for a bit, lost in thought again. "Oh well!" He clapped his hands together. "What's done is done. Alls well that ends well or whatever."
John did not move from his seat. He calmly sat and listened to his friend's rambling lifting his eyebrows higher with each word. Sherlock took his coat and scarf off and took his usual seat across from John. "Are you high?" John asked. Suspicion and worry tainting his pleasant features.
"No!" Sherlock spat, frankly offended by John's question. "What would lead you to that conclusion? You really shouldn't try to deduce me John you're rubbish at it." He remarked, waving his hand as if to bat away John's ridiculous assumption.
"You are acting strange. I'm calling Molly..." John stated, rising from his chair.
"I don't need a bloody drug test!" Sherlock shouted. John sat again, taken aback. Sherlock took a deep breath and steepled his hands under his chin.
"Now I'm definitely calling Molly and if you don't come with me to Saint Bart's right now I will phone Mycroft as well. What'll it be? Hmm?"
Ten minutes and a taxi ride later Sherlock and John were at Saint Bart's Hospital lab with Molly Hooper.
"Clean" she said proudly, taking of her purple medical gloves with a smile.
"I told him it was entirely unnecessary and his deduction skills are rubbish but does he listen?" Sherlock grumbled. Molly chuckled, tucking a fly away hair back into her ponytail.
"Is there anything else you boys needed? If not I have to get back to the morgue." John seemed to answer but Sherlock wasn't listening. He was distracted by Molly Hooper. Something was different about her.
Her hair was the same color and style. She wasn't wearing makeup besides her normal touch of mascara and neutral lipstick. Clothes were the same. Though he posture was better. She seemed... relaxed. Less nervous. Why? Then it hit him. Her stutter, it was gone. Her voice didn't shake. She didn't even hide her face from him like she normally did. He wanted to test his hypothesis.
"Wait, Molly?" Addressing her directly would surely make her stutter return. She stopped and turned. Her face showing no signs of unease or timidity. Curious.
"Yes?" She waited a moment, a little confused. "Sherlock?" He snapped out of it focusing his attention to her words instead of his thoughts. "Was there something else you needed?"
"Never mind. Unimportant. Come, John!" Sherlock was out the door before Molly could move. John and Molly shared a glance.
"I'll check the test again," she reassured him.
"Yep" he conceded, dashing after the detective before he could cause any trouble.
John and Sherlock spent the cab ride home in silence. John spared random glances at Sherlock, who didn't seem to be breathing. His eyes were closed and his hands were in the common position, pressed together under his chin. If he wasn't high he must be worried, John thought, really worried about something... it couldn't be John's recent marriage to Mary Morstan because Sherlock was quite found of her and her him. So why was the detective throwing himself into cases that were (for lack of a better term) dull.
"John, will you shut up. Your obnoxiously loud thought process is rather annoying." Sherlock groaned. John just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in defiance.
Sherlock's mood persisted for the rest of the week to John's dismay. After three days John called Mary. She didn't have to talk to him for more than five minutes when he confessed.
"Mummy wants all my 'friends' to come and stay at the house for the holiday..." Sherlock grunted, looking like a petulant child curled in a ball on his chair, arms crossed atop his bent legs.
Mary tried to hold it in but her laughter burst from between her fingers that covered her mouth. "Is that all!? Goodness Sherlock we thought you were ill!" Another wave of laughter swept her bring John along with it. Sherlock's evident disgust made them laugh even harder.
Once they calmed down John asked, "So who does is 'Mummy' inviting exactly?"
"Myself, Mycroft, You, Mary, Lestrade, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson."
Mary crossed the room and perched herself on the arm rest of Sherlock's chair, allowing her arm to drape across his shoulders. "Oh common Sherly, are you worried we're gonna embarrass you?" She gave a squeeze, shaking him slightly. The detective was not amused to say the least.
He shrugged her off and scooted further away from her grasp. "No!" He paused. "Quite the opposite. I'm going to bed." Sherlock swept across the room and just before slamming the door he yelled, "And DON'T CALL ME SHERLY!"
AN: Okay guys I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, I really don't know where I'm going with this yet but I guess I will see where Sherlock takes me.