"Hello?" came a voice at the door. John walked hastily down the stairs of the new house, being cautious not to slip on them. He opened the door to find a young man with short, silver hair smiling at him.
"How can I help you?" John greeted pleasantly.
"Um, I'm Constable Lestrade and..."
"Oh, uh, my parents are out at the moment, can I take a message for them, officer?"
"No, no, it's not necessary. Uh... do you know anyone by the name of Mycroft Holmes?"
"Mycroft? Hmm..." John saw the officer's face go a deep red, "no, I'm sorry, I'm new here so I don't know many of the-"
"You're new? As in, just moved in?"
"Yes."
"What house is this?"
"Forty-one."
"Oh. I'm looking for forty-two."
"Ah," John looked over at the manor across the road, "try that house."
"Right. Sorry to waste your time," Lestrade turned and went towards the manor, but then stopped and turned around, "sorry, but do you mind if I ask your name?"
"John. John Watson," John smiled, "nice perfume, by the way," Lestrade blushed again.
"Thanks. It's called "Obsession" or something like that. All the guys at the station think it makes me smell girly... but I like it. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Watson."
"You too, Constable Lestrade," John closed the door and went back up to his room, still smiling, "huh," he said to himself, "I've been here for a day and already I've made a friend."
Sherlock was watching listlessly out his window at nothing in particular. The house across the road had been filled with its occupants this morning and now he gathered only the youngest of the family was still inside. The parents were probably shopping or some other boring thing. His eyes shifted to the stranger that was approaching the house, his curiosity activated for a split second before he quickly deduced what he was doing, shifting his eyes to some empty space that wasn't important.
The doorbell rang and he heard Mycroft walk past his room to get to the door. He faltered in his step as he reached Sherlock's open door.
"Don't look at me like that," said Sherlock, his voice void of emotion, "answer the door."
Mycroft left and Sherlock sighed, turning his head to the other side of the window. His window was ajar, letting the conversation below waft into his room as well as a familiar scent.
Mycroft answered the door, finding his silver-haired partner shivering on the porch.
"Greg…" Mycroft smiled. Lestrade smiled back and his shivering was slightly less violent.
"Mind if I come in?" he asked. Mycroft nodded his head and held the door open for him. Lestrade wiped the snow off his feet on the welcoming mat before stepping inside.
Lestrade and Mycroft sat in front of the fireplace in the loungeroom. Each of them had a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of them and Lestrade smiled and pulled a long box out of his coat on the floor.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered as he handed the box to Mycroft. He opened the box and smiled broadly at the contents, "that's top notch stuff. Very expensive. I thought you'd like it."
"I do. Thank you," he pulled the black umbrella out of the box and studied it with awe. He noticed an engraving on the handle, "Forever Yours, G.L. Greg… this is…" Lestrade chuckled at Mycroft.
"So even if the weather's bad, you'll think of me and smile," at that, Mycroft pulled a small box out from his pocket and handed it to the constable.
"Merry Christmas to you too," he chuckled.
"What is it?"
"It's a gold ring with Forever Yours, M.H engraved on it," came a robotic voice from the stairs. They turned and saw Sherlock standing on the last step with one hand on the rail and the other clutching a small glass jar that was mostly covered by his dirty blue silk robe, "I see idiotic minds think alike," he droned as he walked into the kitchen.
"Thank you," whispered Lestrade to Mycroft, "…is that your brother?"
"Yes, that's Sherlock."
"How is he?"
"I'm fine," came the drone from the kitchen, "I'd be far better if you hadn't have come."
"Ignore him," reassured Mycroft. He does it to everyone, it's nothing personal.
"Oh, but it is personal, dear brother. Tell me, Lestrade, is that women's perfume you're wearing?"
"Yes," Lestrade blushed, "so?"
"Do you know the name of it?"
"Oh… um… Obsession or something or other…"
"Correct. The same perfume my brother reeks of when he returns home late of a night. Now, from the intimacy of your… gift giving… one can assume you are romantically involved but this fact clinches it."
"Sherlock…" Mycroft had a hint of warning in his voice.
"What? I don't get it," Lestrade looked confusingly between them as he tried to make sense of the situation. Sherlock started to walk slowly, almost zombie-like, towards the constable. His cold, lifeless eyes staring into Lestrade's, making him feel uncomfortable. His hardened face turned into a vicious snarl as he drew closer until his was barely a centimetre away from his face.
"You kept Mycroft away from me. You murdered John. I. Hate. You."
"Sherlock," glared Mycroft, "I think you should go to your room. Now." Sherlock huffed dramatically and trudged up the stairs.
Sherlock slammed the door of his room shut and crawled into his bed. His face was beginning to moisten with tears. He clutched the jar closer to his chest and dug his face into the pillow.
"Why, John…" he whimpered, "why did you have to leave me?"
Well… this chapter's finished :3
I'm trying to update as often as possible with lengthy chapters but I have no computer (except for the ones at school) and I have lots of schoolwork to do…
But I'll do my best!
I'm also going to be starting some drabbles to lift the dark crap off my mind, so keep a look out over the next few weeks if you want :D
Also, June 18th and 19th I'll be at Supanova at Sydney so if you're there too you'll probably see me walking around in my Sherlock gear (and/or Kuroshitsuji Undertaker gear if it gets here in time) I'm pretty short and probably will be walking with my friends who are going to be Grell and Alois. (if you're not sure, just ask if I'm Arakai)
Just if you're interested :3
I'll see what I can do regarding the chapters.
SH