Title: Reunions, Rowdiness and Phone Calls
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Pairings: Sherlock and John gen, but it can always be slashed.
Warnings: Most probably OOC John, but that's because he's pissed as a newt. Swearing. Bad humour. Total fluff, possibly crack.
Spoilers: The usual.
Summary: John goes on a school reunion and gets drunk. Sherlock solves some crimes and gets some interesting phone calls.
John is going to a school reunion. Sherlock thinks this is the stupidest thing he has ever heard.
"Why, after your successful escape from such a place and such people, would you then willingly return to it?"
John shrugs. "I liked my school. Didn't you?"
Sherlock's withering glance says everything. John goes upstairs to get changed.
He comes back down exactly twenty-seven minutes later, avec nice dark blue suit but sans tie.
"Have you got a blue tie I can borrow?" he asks, apparently cool as a cucumber.
Sherlock goes to get one and then, because he has a hunch, offers to put it on John himself. The pulse in John's neck is hammering and thus Sherlock's suspicions are confirmed.
"No I'm not."
John sighs. "I liked my school, but…most of them are quite judgemental. Prissy. And it's not like they're the most interesting people you'll ever meet."
Unlike me, Sherlock thinks but, with unusual tact, does not say. He thinks about what these people's reactions will be to John's new life, and then he concentrates on straightening John's tie and most emphatically not suggesting that he just stays home with Sherlock instead.
"Try and find a case that urgently needs my assistance, hey?" John says, with what is most definitely a nervous laugh. Sherlock's fingers hesitate on the tie.
"I'll try my hardest," he says as lightly as possible. John grins, squeezes his shoulder in goodbye and leaves.
221b Baker Street is far quieter without John in it, though it takes Sherlock a while to realise just what is wrong about the place. It feels wrong, more than just sounds wrong, as if something has been removed from the flat, as if there is a wall missing, a piece of furniture, something important.
He will never tell John this.
The reunion has a great turnout, but it's full of old school friends showing off their husband or wife, and John feels abruptly left out. He wants a drink, but all they're serving is the same weak punch that he is sure they served at his school prom as well (before Mark spiked it, anyway, god that was a night, better stay away from Lindsey if she turns up).
His leg aches. He wants to go home.
Is there anything happening? I'll take anything. - SH
Nothing for you tonight. Sorry. - Lestrade
All right. - SH
Get John to entertain you. - Lestrade
Yes. - SH
"Johnny?" says a voice, just as John is contemplating fleeing. "Hey, Johnny mate!"
John turns around and is greeted with a familiar group of waving guys, his old friend Jimmy amongst them all, looking twenty years older and several stones heavier.
Jimmy is the sort of person who will never change, who is always infectiously, wonderfully and annoyingly himself and who will treat everyone exactly the same. After the fake smiles and chats that John has been going through, he is a refreshing change.
"God, this is bloody dire, ain't it?" Jimmy says, giving John his hipflask with a wink. John takes a swig; it is most definitely not the punch. "Hey, did you see Lindsey turned up?"
John almost chokes on the drink. "What? Where? Is she still - ?"
"Yeah." Jimmy grins a blinding grin; he always had perfect teeth. "Tell you what, how about you come out with the rest of the guys here? Have a few pints and get away from that DJ."
John glances at the sad looking DJ, who is being completely ignored by everyone. He's just started playing Puppy Love. It's now or never.
"Let's go," he says, and they escape.
Sherlock hunts down 101 Worst Unsolved Crimes Committed in London 2010 on the internet. Within two hours he's on number 48 and has solved them all.
The silence continues.
They end up in their old school group - Mike, Joe, Bill, Jimmy and John. Mike is an accountant with two kids and a fully blown midlife crisis, Joe is a journalist and a blatant womaniser, Bill is a desperate gay romantic with a desk job, Jimmy is still the most accident-prone stuntman John will ever know. They sneak out and into the nearest pub, and all agree to get utterly wasted.
Sherlock's phone goes off while he is trawling through number 56 (The Thames Drowner - dull, dull, dull, he solved it all on the first sentence). The screen says it is John but the man on the phone sounds nothing like him.
"Are," says the man very emphatically, "you Sherlock Holmes?"
Sherlock rolls his eyes and clicks onto the next murder. "Yes."
"We saw a picture of you on John's phone."
"My mate Bill says you have nice hair," says the man solemnly, to a general roar of indignation in the background, and the sound of laughter and scrabbling.
Sherlock considers this thoughtfully. "Thank you. Does John know you have his phone?"
"Johnny's bringing in the pints. Again. Hey, Johnny! Get some shots! Oi! Johnny!"
Johnny. Sherlock saves it onto his hard-drive gleefully, but before he can worm anymore embarrassing details out of his anonymous informant, he hears John say in the background "…is that my phone?" and the man says "oh shit - " and the phone goes dead.
Sherlock goes onto number 57 and pretends he isn't grinning.
By number 68, the phone is ringing again.
"Hey, Sherlick, hey," slurs someone who is definitely John this time. "Hey - hey, Sherlick - "
"It's Sherlock, John," Sherlock says calmly, scrolling down.
"Yeah, that's what I said, yeah. But - hey - Sherlock - "
"Did Jimmy ring you?"
"Oh." A pause, the clink of glasses, someone laughs outrageously in the background. "Hey, Sherlick, what're you doing?"
"I'm about to do 69."
John bursts out into hysterics and the phone goes dead again. Sherlock doesn't get it and doesn't think he wants to.
"I think you should give him a case," Jimmy says, leaning into thin air.
"Na, na, I thin' you should give him your case," Joe says, and they all howl as if he has just said something transparently funny.
John sits back and frowns at the ceiling in an effort to make it stop spinning. "What sort of case?" he asks.
The phone rings again.
"No, I'm John."
Good God. "Yes, John."
"I - I - I have a thing."
"No, no, you know, a thing. Case. That's it. For you, I mean."
"John, you're drunk."
"What? No I'm not. No, no, no, God no. …Well yes."
"But it's Jimmy's fault - Jimmy, Jimmy, say hi!"
"I've already spoken to him, John," Sherlock says patiently. "He said that Bill said my hair was nice."
"Oh. That's nice."
The phone goes dead again.
Five seconds later, it rings again. Sherlock ponders putting it on silent.
"I forgot!" John says triumphantly. "About the case!"
Sherlock looks at number 73 - a blind monkey could see that it was the butcher's rival who killed him. "I am all ears," he says.
"Who," John says dramatically, "Told Mandy Thomas that the baby was actually Jimmy's and not Richard's?"
Sherlock sighs and scrolls down. "Whoever her best friend is."
"Holy shit, Corinne?" John splutters, and then there are shouts of "Jimmy, Jimmy, holy shit -" and once more the phone is cut off again.
Sherlock moves onto 74.
Such is the law when Joe is around, they eventually get kicked out of the pub with a barmaid hurling abuse as they go, but that's fine, it's all good, they just plan to move on to another one somewhere else.
Unfortunately, getting anywhere is a bit of a problem.
"Hey, hey, do you think Mycroft could send a car? Because, because, because Mike can't walk - he can crawl - and laugh, laugh a lot - but, but he can't walk and we need a car - "
"A flashy one!" someone shouts in the background.
"A flashy one," John solemnly echoes.
"No," says Sherlock.
"…Please?" John whimpers.
Sherlock sighs, but there's no resisting a plaintive John.
Need a car to take John wherever he wants to go. - SH
Dream on. - MH
Will do legwork for you. - SH
How much? - MH
Two cases. - SH
Five. - MH
Three. - SH
Done. Car on its way. - MH
Sayy sorry to Myycroft for Bill allmost throwwing up on Anthea. - JW
Good God. - SH
You are doing five cases for me, Sherlock. - MH
The car throws them out into the middle of Camden. It couldn't be better.
"…Did you just call me Johnny?"
"Well you keep getting my name wrong."
A thoughtful pause.
"Would you like a drink?"
"I'm not actually there, John, you're ringing me."
Another pause. "…Oh yeah…"
"Okay, okay!" Mike leans forward so much that he is almost doubled up. "Oh kay, Johnny, shag, marry or throw off a cliff - "
"Jesus, it's like primary school - "
"Shuddup, shuddup, okay, so, so - Bill, Jimmy and Sherlock - "
"Okay. Um. Okay, so. Shag Bill - "
" - Just 'cause he's gay and he knows what he's doing - "
" - And, you know, he won't just, like, stick it in there - um, throw Jimmy off a cliff - "
"You're a stuntman, you'll bounce!"
"You know that leaves you marrying Sherlock."
"…So no change there then."
"Hey, Sherlick - "
"…Pretty sure I have to be there for that to be legally binding, John."
"No, no no no - I mean we're like married…we're practically married, you see I shagged Bill and I threw Jimmy off a cliff, so we're married!"
"…I'm sure that makes sense to you but it makes none to me."
"I'm thinking of changing my name."
"What - hey, Sherlick?"
"Guess where we're going!"
"A police station?"
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me!"
"There are so many things wrong with that sentence."
Sherock i may hve lost my keys - JW
Foundt hem, they wre in Jimmy - JW
I mean i mean his bag - JW
Not in Jmimy. Cuz that wld be weeird. - JW
OGM Shurlick i jst tiold a woman that u were a dettective and she says she is 2 she detects penises - JW
Oh Jimmmy sais she was thingy. - JW
Hitting on me, thas it. - JW
Not very well if you ask me. - SH
"Pretty green eeeeeeeyes - "
"Oh god I feel sick - "
Afs;'j:Coming hhome. - JW
Good. - SH
By the time he is on number 100, Sherlock is feeling utterly fed-up; he's solved every crime on the list, each in a matter of minutes, and he's sure that the last one will not be any different. Before he can move on to solving the last one and thus the lot, though, the front door opens downstairs with rather a crash, and then there is a suspicious silence.
Sherlock goes downstairs and finds John sliding slowly down the hallway wall, giggling at Mrs Hudson's pot of flowers opposite him as he goes.
"Good evening," Sherlock says politely, at the top of the stairs.
John turns two rather bleary eyes on him. "Wow," he says, his face slack like a child's.
Sherlock frowns. "What?"
"Your hair," John says. "Bill was right. 'S amazing." And he cracks up laughing.
Not even the forces of Heaven and Hell can stop Sherlock grinning at this; he comes down the stairs trying to fight down his smile. John's head is nodding against the wall, so Sherlock bends down and puts an arm around his shoulders.
"You can't fall asleep here," he says. "Come on."
John mumbles grumpily, but lets Sherlock drag him into a standing position and they attempt a rather wobbly climb of the stairs.
"Sherlick?" says John.
"John, if I have to get a nametag I will."
Sherlock sighs. "Yes, John?"
"I missed you."
Sherlock glances down at John, but he has his head buried into Sherlock's shoulder, and he can't see his face. He thinks for a moment before he says, "I missed you too."
John huffs out a little laugh.
They get to the landing and attempt the next set of stairs to John's room.
"Yes, I know."
"No - no, no, no - I mean to me."
Sherlock nudges John's bedroom door open with his foot and hauls John inside. "Yes, I know," he says again, and puts John down gently on the bed.
John watches Sherlock taking his shoes off through his ruffled up hair, looking for all the world like a very tired five year old boy. He accepts the removal of his jacket without argument, and lies down when Sherlock instructs him to, pulling the covers up to his chin.
"Sherlick," he says sleepily.
"Don't remind me of this in the morning." It's the first time he has properly sounded like the stoic John that Sherlock knows for a while.
Sherlock bites back a grin. "I won't," he says and turns off the light, then backs out of the room and shuts the door behind him.
He goes back downstairs and tries to solve number 101.
Don't Cha - Pussycat Dolls
Pretty Green Eyes - Ultrabeat