This is my first hand at a Sherlock fanfic. I am writing this story in conjunction with Audrey. She does Watson brilliantly. I would't be able to write this story without her! This is my first time doing a collaborative fanfic, but I think it is turning rather well. First chapter is much lighter than future chapters. Expect things to get Johnlock-ed in later chapters. Don't like slash or the pairing, then just don't read it. I am unsure how long this will be. We have about thirty pages written already, and it's still going and will for awhile. Looks like it will turn out pretty long. Lots of cutesy scenes with Sherlock and John but there is an actual case as well. Hope you all like this first chapter! Please review and let me know what you think! Enough from me!
Sherlock Holmes was bored. This was nothing new, as he was usually bored when he didn't have a case in progress. He was resting on the couch, wrapped up in his robe and staring at the ceiling. His gaze shifts to his flat mate. "John, I'm bored. I need a new case."
Dr. John Watson was sitting in an over sized chair, his laptop on his lap. He was reading the comments on his blog. He glanced up from his screen to look at Sherlock, who had finally spoken after an hour of silence. "I know. Lestrade hasn't texted us yet, I'm sorry. Make some tea or something."
With a groan of frustration, Sherlock turned away from John, mumbling something about how boring that'd be. After awhile he rolled back over onto his back and lifted the sleeve of his robe up, and glanced down at the multiple patches upon his arm. "These nicotine patches aren't helping. I need more. Go out and buy me some?" It was almost a whining plea, something you'd expect from a child and not a grown man.
A sigh escaped John's lips. Living with Sherlock was a testament to anyone's wits and nerves. He kept his tone mild, despite feeling slightly exasperated. "I'm not your housekeeper, Sherlock. I'm your flat mate. I'm not going to go buy you nicotine patches. You want them bad enough then go out and buy them yourself. We're out of milk so you can buy that, too."
Again, Sherlock rolled away from John. This time in pouting defiance and he muttered, "Going out to the store is boring. Also, we may need some more jam. I emptied the jar for one of my experiments."
The laptop nearly tumbled to the floor when John stood up quickly in anger. He clumsily caught it and set it on the floor. He then moved over toward the couch to confront Sherlock, his voice no longer mild. His exasperation was clear this time, his voice just an octave below yelling. "You what? You did not. Sherlock, you better be joking right now. You seriously better be kidding. Go buy some more jam. Now. Now, Sherlock. It's more fun than sitting here on the couch."
Sherlock didn't turn to look at John. He was still pouting over not having a new case and he rolled his eyes at the tirade over jam of all things. "You get upset over the silliest things, do you know that? It's only jam."
This time John didn't hold back and he started yelling. "NO IT'S NOT. IT'S NOT ONLY JAM. I bought that jar with my own money! You can't just go and use it for some little experiment. For all I know it ended up on the head of some dead person in our fridge!"
A head in jar that once held jam? How very improbable, it'd never fit. Sherlock kept his initial thoughts to himself for once. "Actually, I put some beetles in it with some fingers. Wanted to see how quickly the buggers eat the fingers."
With control, John managed not to yell even though he was still livid. "I cannot believe you. I actually, literally cannot believe you. You're bloody mad, y'know that? I swear if my beer is gone, Sherlock..."
Finally, Sherlock flipped back over and looked at John. "I'm the mad one? You're the one ranting and raving over a jar of jam."
With every word Sherlock spoke, John found it impossible to remain anything other than upset. "My jam, Sherlock. It was my jam. I don't use your food for experiments. I don't touch your food. That was my jam. I even put a label on it with my name. And you put bugs in it. That's not normal."
Sherlock sat up for the first time since laying down on the couch. He sat with his feet on the cushions, so his knees came up to his chin. He steeples his fingers together and peered over them at John. "You're really upset over this whole jam thing aren't you? Interesting..."
"Stop deducing me. Stop doing that whole 'Sherlock' thing. Yes, Sherlock, I'm upset. It was my property and you used it without asking. That's like primary school basics, that is. Don't touch other people's things. Or put bugs in them."
"Primary school was boring."
The lack of any real response was more infuriating than Sherlock's actual words. "Figures. I should have seen that one coming, really. Everything is boring to you, isn't it?"
"Life is dull without a puzzle, John. Do we have a new case yet?"
"We do, actually. It's the case of my missing jar of jam. Solve it buy going to the store and buying some more."
"Back to the jam again, are we? Here I thought we were passed it."
"You wanted a case. Still no text from Lestrade. I had to provide you some sort of entertainment. Otherwise you were going to continue bugging me like some child with too much sugar."
"Well, I refuse the case then. It sounds boring. Can't you just go to the store and stop pouting? And you call me the child..."
"I'm seriously resisting the impulse to punch you in the face right now. Entertain yourself then. I'm not here to do that." John said, as he turned and walked away. He picked up the laptop off the floor and set on the desk. He sat down in the chair, and pretended to be busy doing something online.
Sherlock hopped up off the couch. "Good God, I'll go get the jam."
John twisted in his chair to look at Sherlock. "That's all it took? You're kidding, aren't you? You're not actually going to go doing something domestic like buy the jam, are you?"
Sherlock walked to the bedroom to get proper clothes, but continues the conversation. "Well, I was just going to go downstairs and have Mrs. Hudson do it and then go for a walk. You told me to entertain myself, and I was going to go do just that."
"Sherlock, good Lord, you can't just pass it off to our landlady! I'll go get the jam, alright? But if you use it for another one of your blood experiments I will hurt you. I was a soldier. C'mon, you're going to the store with me. I need to make sure you don't shoot the wall." John spoke while he shut down his lap top down and then walked toward the door.
Sherlock returned from the bedroom wearing his usual suit. He never wore a tie though, those things were the most unnecessary accessory to a clothing ensemble he'd ever seen and he didn't understand why so many men wore them. He walked to the door as well, and put on his coat and scarf. "I was going out anyway, come on then."
John grabbed his coat on the way out, and brushed past Sherlock. "Don't wander off. We're going straight to the store and then straight back to the flat. Nothing in between. You got that?" He slipped on the coat and then started heading down the stairs.
Sherlock smirked ever so slightly as John passes by. "I wouldn't dream of it." He replied and followed after John down the stairs.
"I saw you smirk. I'm serious, Sherlock. You're not going anywhere else. I'll hold your hand like a child if I really need to." John stepped outside and shivered, looking down the street. "Now... where is jam going to the least expensive?"
The cold doesn't seem to bother Sherlock. His coat and scarf always did a marvelous job of keeping him warm. "You just want to hold my hand so people will talk more than they already do and how should I know? I hate shopping, it's ordinary and boring."
John cleared his throat and blushed. "No, that's not it. That's a lie and you know it. We want less public attention, not more. Besides, I'm talking to somebody. The last thing I need is her seeing a picture of us holding hands." He nodded to his right and began walking. "C'mon, this way."
Sherlock smirked yet again, and stayed in place. He waited a beat and then said, "The market is the other way John."
John turned and glared at Sherlock. "I knew that." He walked the other direction quickly, clearly flustered. "I-I'm just nervous about the press, y'know?" He rubbed the back of his neck and then shrugged. "They've got all these ideas about the two of us."
"The press is boring and stupid. They never get anything right. They think they know everything, when really they know nothing at all." Sherlock followed after, seemingly oblivious to the implications just made.
"I know that, I'm not as dumb as you think I am." John brought his shoulders up to ears and impatiently walked faster. "Would you use your long legs to walk faster? It's cold out here. This was stupid."
"I don't think you are dumb, you just don't stop and think about things sometimes." Sherlock said, as he continued to stroll down the sidewalk at his own pace.
"I think all the time, Sherl-" John stopped midsentence and turned around with a sigh. "You are impossible." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and tugged. "C'mon. Faster. Now. I'm freezing. The sooner we get there the faster I can get a warm cup of coffee."
Sherlock allowed John to tug him forward but when they pass someone smoking he stopped abruptly and inhaled deeply. "God, I needed that."
"Stop it! Stop." John squeezed Sherlock's hand and pulled him forward once more. "We'll get you some patches while we're here. You're doing well. You don't need that." Once they are walking again, he settled at Sherlock's side. "Mrs. Hudson would kill me if she found out you were smoking again."
"But...I..." Sherlock trailed off and is drug forward once more. This time he kept in step with John and then he stopped again in realization. "Wait, jam is your nicotine...isn't? That's why you got so upset about it being gone. Of course! I should have realized this sooner." He slapped his head with the palm of his free hand.
"Wha'?" John stumbled at the sudden stop. "No, Sherlock, no it's not. It's just my favorite food. Normal people have favorite foods that they really enjoy eating and not having bugs and fingers put in. It's not my nicotine." He looked up impatiently at the taller man. "Are you done deducing for a bit? Can we go now?"
"What? Are you sure? People really are boring. Having a favorite food is about as exciting as having a favorite sport." Sherlock frowned in thought, but shrugged it off and then continued on.
"There's nothing wrong with either of those. I have a favorite sport." John says, as he pulled Sherlock into the store and released his hand. "Go find your patches. I'll get the jam and milk." He glanced at Sherlock before wandering into the store. As an afterthought, he added "Don't wander off!"
Upon entering the store Sherlock couldn't help but glance at the other people in it. They all seemed to be boring people. However, there was a man that ended up drawing his attention. John was in between the check out area and the man. In his mind, he saw everything happen before it did. Reacting quickly, and yelling to get John's attention, he ran to John and tried to shove him out of the way when a gun went off. "At least the day isn't boring anymore..." He mused, as collided with John.