For ollyhooper and sherlolly29

Prompts: "jealous sherlock" and "established Sherlolly and BeneLoo"


Sherlock eyed his newest client disdainfully as he walked around the chair the client was seated in. Sherlock gave the man a once-over as was his wont. Habitually dyes his hair dark over auburn. Liar. Manicured nails. No to manual labor, then. Acute heterochromia, not contacts, but wears clear contacts that are thinner along the edges. Myopic with slight astigmatism, genetic. Worked out for a time, has stopped but is still dieting if that disturbingly loud stomach growl from a minute before is to be believed. He lives in this district as indicated by the slight coating of dust on his shoes, not caked, those shoes are meticulously cared for. Hands… ink. Likes to read. No pets. Lips injured by prolongued use of a metallic object. Interesting! Hmm.. no. Just used to play the trumpet. Boring.

"Mister Holmes, we are very sorry to bother you but we really need your help." Benedict said. He was seated beside his girlfriend who was looking at him with concern, their fingers laced together on Benedict's knee. Sherlock turned his gaze to her. (Beautiful, Sherlock thought. Looks like a smart one, too. Carries a small notebook and a mini pen on her person at all times. Small but strong hands with writer's callouses on the right one. Slightly open bag reveals a book. No, two books. Vonnegut. Dog-eared copies. She's re-reading them. Yes, very smart. iPod screen stopped at Kopatchinskaja. Good taste questionable only where the client — this Benedict Cumberbatch — is concerned. Why Molly was so excited about seeing that email inquiry from this ACTOR, I will never understand.)

Sherlock sat on his haunches in front of Benedict so that they were face to face. "Please don't call me Mister Holmes, Mr. Cumberbatch. The last person who tried calling me Mr. Holmes tried to give me cyanide in a twisted game of poison chess,"

"Oh… 'kay?" Sherlock watched as Benedict's eyes darted from his to Loo's, their joined hands, then back to him again.

Sherlock heard Molly snicker from John's chair. "Oh, come off it, Sherlock. Leave him alone." She then turned to the client's girlfriend. "I'm feeling peckish. Would you humor a pregnant woman and accompany me to Speedy's below for a bite?"

Loo looked surprised. "Er, sure," she replied. Loo then turned to Benedict who smiled at her. She kissed her boyfriend's cheek before quickly getting up and helping the heavily pregnant woman from her seat.

Sherlock and Benedict both stood up to acknowledge their ladies leaving. Sherlock then shook his head and grinned at the retreating women, his gaze lingering on Molly. He turned back to Benedict. "You're a little dim, aren't you?"

Benedict's eyes widened at the question. "Excuse me?!"

"Your girlfriend does your laundry, doesn't she?" the detective inquired.

Benedict's face flushed. "Only because she likes to do. I do the ironing because she hates that. I do the shopping, too, and we take turns with the cleaning—"

"Stop boring me, Mister Cumberbatch,"


Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man. "You have been holding that ringbox from outside your trouser pocket since you got here, and were apprehensive about broaching your case because you are here to ask me to look for a missing engagement ring you haven't proposed with yet which, if you had only been observing, Mister Cumberbatch, is already being worn by your bride-to-be."