"No," Sherlock said as he and Scarlett stood in the flat, after going out for lunch to celebrate Scarlett joining the working world, Sherlock thought it would be about time she learnt how to handle herself if trouble ever came her way again, and so that was how he found himself stood in front of the fireplace, his head resting just above her shoulder as she held her arms out in front of her, aiming at the wall where Sherlock had drawn a smiley face.
"You need to try and stop shaking," he told her, his arms moving either side of her body, his hands clasping onto hers in an attempt to make her stop shaking.
"I'm holding an object which could kill someone Sherlock...is it any wonder I am slightly shaking?" she asked him, her voice sounding slightly high;
"Is your fast heart rate," he began his question, his soft voice close to her ear. "Due to the gun...or my...ah...proximity, if you shall?"
"Definitely the gun," she smirked, allowing her head to turn around and stare into his eyes which seemed to have melted slightly as she looked at him and he smirked back at her.
"Of course Miss Jenson," he said politely, turning away to cough once, moving his hands from Scarlett as she made the gun click and he looked back as the shots suddenly flew through the air, hitting against the wall. When she had finished her third shot, he walked over to the yellow marking and frowned slightly;
"Not the best," he said to her. "But it will soon get better."
"What do you mean?" Scarlett asked, moving over to the yellow face, standing on the sofa as Sherlock stood beside it and looked up at the marking, his hand tracing over the bullet hole.
"You're miles out," he told her. "You did manage to make a nose...even though you should have been aiming for the eyes and mouth."
"It's close," Scarlett shrugged and Sherlock looked at her with pursed lips as his eyes became wide and he moved round to his sofa, grabbing onto her hips and dragging her from the material and onto the floor.
"No one," he informed her, "stands on the sofa."
"You stood on it yesterday," she pointed out and he shook his head;
"That's because it is my sofa," he informed her. "And I can do what I like on it."
"Oh can you?" Scarlett winked, moving into the kitchen and Sherlock rolled his eyes;
"I wish you'd pick your mind up off the gutter," he told her. "It really can't be an attractive quality."
"I was joking Sherlock," she said and he picked up the gun which she had left on the coffee table and he twirled it in his hands as he watched her pull out a large dish and go into the stocked freezer, pulling out minced beef and placing it into the microwave.
"Are you sure that's beef?" he asked her cockily and she looked at him, sitting on the worktop and rolling her eyes at him.
"It had best be," she said. "Unless you've been experimenting again?"
"Always a worry," he said loudly and Scarlett chuckled lowly;
"You are a worry," she informed him. "And I think you always will be."
Suddenly, she heard her phone go off and Sherlock frowned slightly, his eyes narrowed as he listened to her ringtone;
"Do you seriously have that as your ringtone?" he asked her and she picked her phone up, checking the ID and sticking her tongue out at him;
"I like them," she said and answered her phone as Sherlock continued to laugh at the fact she had 'Love Machine' as her ringtone. He recognised it from somewhere but he didn't know why, but then again, he didn't know why he knew half the things he knew most the times.
"That...Sherlock...your brother's secretary just called me," she said. "But it showed up as Jessie..."
"Is Jessie a boy or a girl?" He asked her. "As in Jesse or Jessie?"
"A girl," Scarlett clarified and Sherlock nodded, thankful for that. "That's hardly important anyway..."
"I thought it would be a girl. Jesse tends to be an Australian male's name," Sherlock informed her and Scarlett shook her head. "So what did she want?"
"She wanted to know if you were alive...well...your brother does," Scarlett said. "Why didn't he just phone you instead?"
"Oh he has done," Sherlock said. "I just choose to ignore him."
"As you do," Scarlett said sarcastically. "Why would you ignore him?"
"Because he will be after me to solve some boring case in Russia or Finland and I can't be bothered," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes whilst Scarlett raised a brow;
"I read about a case you solved in Minsk," she whispered and Sherlock grimaced at the memory;
"Ah," he said. "Yes...his grammar was terrible...he deserved to be hanged for that alone," Sherlock complained and Scarlett simply shook her head and continued pulling out jars from the cupboards which she had bought.
"So do you and John ever do any shopping?" she wondered and Sherlock simply began to brew a pot of tea.
"No," he said. "Very rare anyway...John does it sometimes...Mrs Hudson helps out as well."
"Sherlock!" Scarlett scolded him. "The woman is older than you...and I thought she was only your land lady...not your housekeeper."
"Yes," Sherlock said loudly, playing with the gun once again. "She does have the annoying habit of telling us that and then changing her mind after she speaks it."
Suddenly, Sherlock heard the banging of a door and he raised the gun and began to shoot at the kitchen wall as Scarlett shrieked out in shock and then John ran into the room;
"You did that on purpose," she whispered as she stood close to him, noticing the beef had begun to defrost and then she began to fry it in a pan, adding in a tomato sauce as Sherlock looked at her with a small grin on his lips;
"Would I do that?" he asked her and John placed his hands onto his hips as Sherlock looked at him;
"Ah John," he called out. "I didn't hear you come in."
"What? Why have you been shooting at walls again? You can't tell me you're bored...Scarlett is here to keep you entertained!"
"Not for much longer," Sherlock complained and Scarlett grinned widely and looked at John;
"They gave me my job back," she said happily and John nodded;
"Congratulations," he said. "How did you manage that?"
"Let us just say I know a man who knows a man," Sherlock said and John didn't question him, knowing there was no point in doing so. "Although why you would even want such a boring job back is beyond my powers of reasonable understanding."
"Are you staying for dinner John?" Scarlett asked him, switching the oven on as John shook his head;
"I'm going out with Sarah," he informed her and she nodded;
"Got it," she said and John checked his watch;
"I'd best go now actually...wouldn't want to be late," he said.
"No," Sherlock drawled. "Heaven forbid that you be late for such an entertaining evening of the X Factor or whatever it is you watch these evenings."
"That's on a Saturday," John informed him.
"And a Sunday," Sherlock commented and John raised a brow;
"I didn't know you had been keeping up with it," John replied and Sherlock grunted, shooting at the wall once again;
"Why did you do that?" John asked and Sherlock shrugged;
"The urge came over me," he said and John simply sighed;
"Don't wait up lovebirds," he said before leaving the two of them in the kitchen;
"Do we have wings?" Sherlock asked, following his friend to the top of the steps. "Do I sound like a bird?"
"No...but you are in love," John said, standing at the bottom of the steps and opening the door;
"Well if I was a bird," Sherlock said. "You'd be my first target."
"Goodnight Sherlock," John said and he walked out into the dark night before Sherlock went into the living room, sulking like a child and sitting on the armchair facing the kitchen. He sat in silence for a few moments before standing up to answer his mobile.
"We're going out," he said and Scarlett looked at the oven where her lasagne had begun to cook and then to Sherlock;
"But I'm cooking!" she objected and he grabbed her coat, helping her into it, ignoring her protests and turning the oven off as he guided her down the steps;
"And it shall reheat," he assured her. "The same cannot be said about the corpse we're off to see...that really is cold."
"Jesus Sherlock," Scarlett murmured.
...
"Oh God," Anderson's voice was the first to be heard as Sherlock and Scarlett walked up to him;
"No he's not here Anderson," Sherlock informed the short man. "Just me...the second best thing."
"Well I don't know what you plan to find out," Anderson said, looking back over to the crime scene where there was tape around lampposts down a dark alley where Lestrade stood and so did Donovan.
"There's always something to find," Sherlock said. "You just need to look closely...so I take it you and Donovan are over?"
"There was never anything happening," he denied.
"Of course not Anderson," Sherlock said sarcastically. "Why don't you run along back to your wife and tell her you'll be there for her and the twins?"
"What?" Anderson snapped. "Twins?"
"Of course...twins run in your family, don't they Anderson?" Sherlock checked. "Of course I imagine it would take too many brain cells for you to begin to research your family tree."
"Have you seen my family tree?" Anderson asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes, grabbing onto Scarlett's hand as Anderson's eyes opened wide at his sudden gesture.
"No," Sherlock drawled, beginning to walk forward. "I don't have that much free time on my hands."
"Sherlock!" Lestrade called out as the Detective walked over to him with Scarlett following behind, her hand still in his as she saw Donovan raised a brow.
"You didn't take my advice?" she asked as Scarlett looked at her;
"Shut up," Sherlock informed Donovan, suddenly getting irritated with her.
"We all have hobbies," Scarlett shrugged. "He likes solving murders...I like to read..."
"It's not a hobby," Donovan said, walking with them to the dead body. "It's a scary obsession"
"Just like your attraction to Anderson?" Sherlock piped up and Donovan scowled as Sherlock grinned. "I'd say that's some form of scary obsession...have you met the guy?" and then Donovan walked away as Lestrade looked at him.
"Shut up," he demanded and Lestrade flapped his hands to the side;
"I didn't say anything," he said
"It's what you were thinking," Sherlock retorted.
"The body Sherlock," he indicated to the dead man and Sherlock began to look down onto the corpse, doing what he does best.
...
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