Title: Invitation, Ch. 4
Language: English
Characters: Sherlock / John
Type: Adventure / Romance (perhaps, someday)
"Did I get anything wrong?
Hmm. I guess he isn't as self-assured as I thought.
"Harry and me don't get along, never have. Clara and Harry split up, three months ago, and are getting a divorce. Harry is a drinker." All of the things he got correct.
"Spot on, then." He looks pleasantly surprised. "I didn't expect to be right about everything."
"Harry's short for Harriet." This brings Sherlock to a stop, right in the middle of the street. I walk past him, then stop and turn to look at him.
"Harriet is your sister." He says, quietly, staring straight ahead.
I turn forward again and look at the gathering of police, and ask, "Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" I know he said back at the flat that he offered for me to look at more dead bodies, but that can't be all I'm expected to do. I really don't think the police are just going to let a bystander in to gape, so Sherlock must have something else in mind.
"Sister!" He sounds thoroughly disgusted with himself for his assumption about Harry's gender, and his body language is tense as he starts moving forward again.
I break into his self-absorption and ask again, "No, seriously, what am I doing here?" After all, I want to keep my story straight if the police ask me any questions.
"It's always something," he mutters as we reach the police line, and doesn't answer my question. I'm not even sure he heard me.
There is a woman walking towards the other side of the police tape, and we all meet up next to a panda. She is holding a walkie-talkie, and glaring at Sherlock. Her greeting isn't exactly friendly either: "Hello, Freak."
"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade," Sherlock replies politely.
"Why?" she asks.
"I was invited," he says, pointedly, but still polite.
"Why," she grinds out. She really doesn't like him. I wonder why.
"I think he wants me to take a look," he replies, stating what I'm sure he feels should be obvious.
"Well you know what I think," she continues, sarcastically, "don't you?"
Her attitude doesn't stop Sherlock from lifting the police tape and ducking under it. "Always, Sally," he says, as if they've had this conversation before. They probably have. I think she must be one of the many people that's told him to 'Piss Off." He sniffs, then says, "I know you didn't make it home last night." Sally looks startled for a moment, then notices that Sherlock is holding up the police tape for me to duck under. She stutters as she asks who I am.
"A colleague of mine, Doctor Watson. Dr. Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend."
Sgt. Donovan looks at Sherlock disbelievingly. I can see why. I didn't think they were friends. "A colleague. How do you get a colleague?" Never mind, not friends. I'm what she doesn't believe. "What," as she points at Sherlock and looks at me, "did he follow you home?" she asks me.
"Would it be better if I just waited, and...?" I ask Sherlock as I turn around and look for the cab, but it's gone. I really don't want to be caught up in whatever this is between the two of them, but Sherlock puts a stop to it. He says, "No!" as he raises the police tape high enough for me to only have to duck my head as I walk under it. Sgt. Donovan looks on for another second, then turns around, and walks towards the building as she raises her walkie-talkie and says, "Freak's here, bringing him in." Charming.
She speeds ahead of us, while Sherlock and I head towards the building. Sherlock is checking out the street and front of the building as a man in a blue clean-suit comes charging up to us.
"Ah, Anderson," Sherlock drawls, "here we are again."
Anderson gets right in Sherlock's personal space and snarls, "It's a crime scene, I don't want it contaminated, are we clear on that?"
Huh, he's talking to Sherlock as if Sherlock is an idiot. I can't say as I much care for his attitude, and I'm pretty sure Sherlock doesn't either.
"Quite clear," Sherlock's tone just dropped the ambient temperature another couple of degrees. "And is your wife away for long?"
Uh oh.
"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out! Somebody told you that." His scorn was palpable.
Incoming.
"Your deodorant told me that," was Sherlock's rather off-hand reply.
"My deodorant," Anderson repeats, nonplussed.
Wait for it...
"It's for men!" Sherlock trills, snarkily.
"Well, of course it's for men, I'm wearing it!" Anderson replies as Sgt. Donovan looks on, both of them with disbelieving scowls on their faces.
Wait for it...
Sherlock tilts his head to look behind Anderson, and says, "So's Sgt. Donovan."
Anderson spins around to look at a gape-mouthed Donovan.
Sherlock wasn't done rubbing it in. He sniffs again and says, "Ooph, and I think it just vaporized," referring to the deodorant, "may I go in now?"
Anderson spins back around and says, "Look, whatever you're trying to imply," as he shakes his finger back and forth in the universal signal for No, no, no, you've got it all wrong. Donovan looks stunned, then embarrassed.
Honestly, for all the time that these two must have known Sherlock, they really should've known better.
Sherlock cuts him off and states, "I'm not implying anything," as he moves around Anderson and heads towards the steps to the building. He continues, "I'm sure Sally came around for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over," as he passes by Sally, who closes her eyes as if wishing a hole would open in the ground and swallow either her or Sherlock up. He turns around and puts on the finishing touch. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." He half-grins, turns, and enters the building.
Ouch.
I was thinking about asking him about the wink. Now I think I'll hold off for a while, as I really don't want him to verbally hand me my arse on a platter.