Author's Note: Enjoy Chapter the Fifth. More Who coming up next. I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who. (Mycroft is totally the Doctor, hahaha)
Mycroft glared at the scanner, long fingers gripping the sides of the screen.
"Why? Why did you have to come back?" he growled, dark eyes boring into the glass. The TARDIS groaned with frustration. One of the dearest Doctor's greatest intergalactic adversaries previously thought to have been rightfully vanquished was back with a vengeance.
The pixelated image on the scanner held the countenance of a Cyberman.
-oO0Oo-
"Sherlock? Do want to go get breakfast this morning?" I asked, poking my head out of the near empty kitchen.
"Whatever pleases you," he replied, his voice muffled, likely due to the fact he had seven strips of gauze clamped between his teeth for an experiment.
"All we've got in the fridge are two eggs an orange and some," I pulled out one of the drawers, "eyeballs, it seems. Are they a part of your experiment?"
"Yes John, since all of my chemistry equipment was destroyed in the fire, I had to use the gauze from your first aid kit, and I got the eyeballs from the morgue while you were gone yesterday," he said matter-o-factly.
"Where do feel like for breakfast then?"
"Sorry?"
"Breakfast, Sherlock. I asked where would you like to go for breakfast." He stared at me as if I had sprouted a second head.
"When did you ask that?"
"Never mind," I huffed, grabbing my wallet from the countertop and throwing on my jacket.
"Where are you going?" Sherlock queried, jumping to his feet and following me out the flat.
"To get the shopping, we've not enough food to make a real meal Sherlock, I'm just popping out for some milk and eggs," I shot him a weird look.
"I'm coming with you," he dashed back inside and remerged, Belstaff in hand.
"You hate shopping!" I protested.
"Maybe, but I need to stock up again on common household chemicals," Sherlock shrugged on his coat and knotted his scarf,
"I could just get those for you, you know."
"Whatever John, I see no point in dawdling any longer, I want to get this over with," he set off at a brisk pace. In the wrong direction.
-oO0Oo-
I had no idea why I thought for a minute, single, solitary second that grocery shopping with Sherlock bloody Holmes would be a mild affair. But of course, the entire trip was a meld of cruel deductions and petulant whines.
When we arrived, Sherlock's face immediately set into his signature scowl, which should have been my first clue. We got our cart and made it through the first two aisles with only a few halfhearted complaints. The real issues started when I spilled the beans. Literally.
Sherlock tripped over a misplaced wire and ran into me; I then slammed into a precariously stacked pyramid of baked beans, sending the entire structure toppling down. The metal canisters rolled off in every direction, causing the both of us to slip over their cylindrical shape and join the flatulence inducing legumes on cracked granite tiles.
"Oh, sirs are you quite alright?" the clerk inquired standing over us, his half-moon spectacles perched so far down his nose they threatened to slide right off.
"Absolutely brilliant actually, thanks for asking," Sherlock groused, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. The clerk did not seem to pick up on his sarcasm and smiled all the brighter.
"Lovely, do you need any assistance in finding anything?"
"No we're fine," I grunted, and got to my feet.
"Are you sure? Because I am here to help!" the clerk insisted, pulling his lips back even farther and displaying a shocking array of coffee-yellowed pearly whites.
"It's really alright, I am not in need of assistance," I assured extending a hand to Sherlock, who was still sprawled on the ground, he took it and sprung to his feet, fingers hovering at the inside of my wrist before pulling away completely.
"Are you absolutely-"
"He said he didn't need your help so go away and resume palming money from the cash register if you don't mind!" Sherlock exploded waving his hands in front of the clerk's frightened face, "Oh yes I know all about your little secret. Now run back home to your thieving pedophilic wife."
The clerk open and closed his mouth in a convincing impression of a fish out of water scuttled away.
"SHERLOCK!"
-oO0Oo-
We ended up being banned from that place for three years. It wasn't because we spilled the beans, or that Sherlock insulted the clerk, it was in reality a combination of chemical explosions (Sherlock), and excessive use of unbecoming language (Me).
Of course, blame me for letting Mr. It's-Just-Transport take a bathroom break. With his grocery bag filled with cleaning chemicals and filters. Apparently he was just going to 'test their effectiveness' in the sinks. All this came out after we were thrown to the curb. At least they were kind enough to check us out before so.
But naturally, our day was about to become all the worse.
For who was waiting on our doorstep like a lost puppy when we got home? Two someones actually.
Mycroft and Mary. My two favorite people in the world. (That was sarcastic)
"I have no desire whatsoever to speak with either of you right now," I snarled, pushing past them to get to the door, "And why didn't you just yourself in Mycroft? We know you have a key."
"Common courtesy Dr. Watson," he said all too cheerily.
"Oh, so I'm the Doctor now, eh?"
The Timelord just rolled his eyes and ushered all of us inside.
"What do want Miss. Morstan?" Sherlock inquired stiffly.
"To speak with John, if you don't mind," she scowled up at the detective, her nose an inch from his. When did things become so tense between them?
"I might," he said in a voice so sinfully low it vibrated in my chest.
"Please, Sherlock it's okay," I pulled at his forearm, and too m evident surprise, he turned away, but not before shooting my wife a murderous look, "And what do want Mycroft?"
"The same as Miss. Morstan."
"Well aren't you the popular one today John?" Sherlock spat sardonically, before retreating to the living room, presumably to sulk.
"What did you want to talk to me about you two?" I asked, eyes flicking between the two of them.
"I shall let Miss. Morstan make her point first, as the matter I wish to discuss is of sensitive material," Mary nodded her thanks, "And that I do not believe it a good idea for her to wait in the living room alone with Sherlock." He strolled casually out of the room.
"John I've already expressed this in every way possible, but I am truly very sorry for lying to you, and I want you back for than anything, I will do anything," she patted her bulging stomach, "Two more months until she arrives John."
I knew deep down inside that she was using the baby to get me to come around. But I didn't care at the moment.
"Come here," I whispered, opening my arms up to envelop her in a large hug. She practically jumped into my arms, squeezing tighter than I thought possible.
"Please move back in, it's so lonely in my flat," she half sobbed into my shoulder.
"Okay, I'll move back in," I promised easily, completely forgetting about my volatile flatmate for the moment.
"Thank you John, I love you," I just nodded my head and pecked a quick kiss to her forehead.
"See you later, love," I grinned, watching her leave, relieved to have that weight off my chest. I leaned against the wall of the foyer, giggling happily to myself. Mycroft poked his head through the doorway.
"I trust that she is quite finished?" he intoned, leaning heavily on his umbrella.
"Yeah come on in," I tried to look serious, bu that infectious smile kept creeping back onto my face.
"I see you have, what is the phrase, 'kiss and made up'?" the toothy smirk I was sure I was flashing him was proof enough.
"Alright, what is it Mycroft?"
"We need to open the watch."
"What!? But y-you said that-" I sputtered.
"I know what I said John, but the Master knows integral information that I need right now!"
"What kind of 'integral information'? About what?"
"About," he sighed, "About the Cybermen."
"What in heavens name are Cybermen!?" I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the air with frustration.
"An old foe I used to fight back in my word-saving days, but they've upgraded themselves. They are in search of something that only the Master knows the location of and I need to find it before he does."
"What is it he's in search of?"
"A White-Point Star."
Nobody likes you Mary! Quit jacking with my OTP!