Chapter VII: The Universe Is Rarely So Lazy

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth…" by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan.

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"So, for funny stories… one has to look no further than Sarah's blog," Sherlock said, "The lot of us get into all sorts of scraps while making Jareth think he is the brains of the operation."

The guests laughed. Jareth smiled in a way to show just a bit of his sharp teeth.

"The record of our time together. Of course, Sarah does tend to romanticize things a bit, but then, you know… for some reason my friends are a bunch of romantics. We've tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client… the Poison Giant. We've had some frustrating cases, 'touching' cases, and of course I have to mention the elephant in the room. But we want something... very particular for this special day, don't we? The Bloody Guardsman."

Jareth, of course, knew the story and had seen it written it up on Sarah's blog with her trademark flourishes of fancy. Hearing Sherlock's matter-of-fact telling was rather soothing to him, but a bit distressing to the more squeamish guests. Sarah relaxed enough to lean against Jareth.

Sherlock came to the conclusion of his story. "Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He'd stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?"

Jareth had ruled out magic immediately. Knowing where the speech was going also helped, but he kept silent.

"Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this," Sherlock said.

No one answered. Like a slightly sadistic teacher, Sherlock called out the student who seemed the least interested in the class. "Scotland Yard. Have you got a theory?"

Greg looked at him suspiciously.

Sherlock nodded. "Yeah, you. You're a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?"

"Er, um, if the, uh, if the, if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um... grating in the air vent... maybe a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there. So, yeah, we're... we're looking for a dwarf."

Jareth would have laughed if Sarah had not elbowed him in the stomach. He was certain he was going to get bruises if she kept doing that.

"Brilliant," Sherlock said.

Lestrade brightened. "Really?"

"No," Sherlock said, "Next!"

Jareth saw who was going to be Sherlock's next victim almost the same time as Sherlock did.

"Tom," Sherlock said, "Got a theory?"

Tom looked nervous as he stood. "Um... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone; broke after piercing his abdomen... like a meat ... dagger."

And thank you powers that be, Molly realizes what an absolute idiot she almost married.

Sherlock spoke each syllable precisely. "A meat dagger."

Tom said with hesitation, "Yes."

Molly was gritting her teeth. "Sit. Down."

"No," Sherlock said as Tom sat down, "There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson – who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know – and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff... except wedding planning and serviettes – he's rubbish at those."

The guests laughed as John confirmed Sherlock's statement.

The dark haired detective smiled. "The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I've ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John – I'm also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to some..."

Lestrade interrupted. "Wait, so how was it done?"

"How was what done?" Sherlock asked.

"The stabbing," Lestrade said.

Sarah bit her lip and glared at Lestrade while also patting Jareth's knee.

Sherlock was trying to hid his shame about the case. "I'm afraid I don't know. I didn't solve that one. That's... It can happen sometimes. It's very... very disappointing." Sherlock took a deep breath before continuing. "Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits."

This led to the Mayfly Man/Stag Night story, with all of the horrible, embarrassing details included. Sarah would occasionally glare at Jareth, just to remind him that he would not be doing that again.

Sherlock reached the point in the story when John pointed out the answer. "Married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity... and instead of endless nights in, watching the telly, or going to barbecues with awful dreadful boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field. He was..."

He paused and looked at John, Mary, and Sarah's disapproving looks and Jareth's mischievous smirk. "On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the Room. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that's what made me special – quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that – I should know. He's saved mine so many times, and in so many ways."

Jareth moved so he and Sarah were less entangled as he knew it was the end of the speech.

"Sarah's stories are about a group of friends and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder, mystery and mayhem. But from now on, there's a new story – a bigger adventure. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be up standing."

The group did as they were told. The photographer began taking pictures of Sherlock. Jareth gave a quick kiss on the cheek to Sarah.

Sherlock raised his glass. "Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is..." Sherlock dropped his glass and looked dazed. "...here today."

Jareth felt his spine stiffen and the room seemed to become colder. Something has gone wrong. Sherlock knows something is very, very wrong. What the bloody hell is it and how do we stop it?

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A/N: "The universe is rarely so lazy" is among my favorite lines of the series, but I could not go into Sherlock's mind palace as (save for one-shots, prologues, and epilogues) I try to stay in Jareth and Sarah's heads.