For You I'll Try

"We hoped you might be interested in—"

"The bite on her neck? Dull. You called me out at three in the morning for this, Detective Inspector?"

"Well we thought—"

"Thought? None of you think! We are at the midnight showing of Breaking Dawn! What else could this be if not the work of overzealous Twihards?"

"Overzealous what? Twi—?"

"Twilight fans. Keep up! Obvious. But I may as well close the case since I've travelled all the way here. If I start interviewing the audience now, I'll have this solved before morning. Send them to the projection room."

"No, Sherlock. I'm not leaving you alone with anyone." Dimmock considered for a moment. "But I'll let you lead… if you like?"

Sherlock snorted.


"And you are absolutely positive that you did not drink her blood? Look at the picture! This isn't your handiwork? It doesn't look familiar?"

"I — I don't…" The girl sniffled.

Dimmock looked at Sherlock and cleared his throat. "Erm… are you sure this is a line of questioning…"

"Yes. So, Lauren, the last time you participated in any sort of vampiric—"

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock turned to the man stood in the doorway. "John! Late as ever! But it is fortunate you are here. I was just questioning Miss Lauren about…"

"Questioning her?"

Sherlock blinked. "That is… asking her if she would like to leave now since I have all the information that I need."

"Good."

Dimmock handed the sobbing girl a handkerchief as she walked out the door.

John rounded on Sherlock. "A twelve year old girl, Sherlock? Really?"

"Evil is not limited to…"

John glared.

"But I'm done interviewing people here. I will text you in the morning, Detective Inspector."

Dimmock stared after them as they exited the theatre.


"EDWARD!"

"IT'S EDWARD!"

Girls everywhere. Screaming. Taking photographs and videos on their iPhones.

John tried to shove past. Sherlock didn't try very hard.

"EDWARD!"

Sherlock grabbed a proffered number before John managed to pull him into the taxi. Sherlock smiled and waved to the girls outside the window until John grabbed his collar, and shook him.

"How many times have I told you, Sherlock, neverto make pronouncements about a case."

"John, it's obvious! It really is! I solved the case on my own — I saved you a boring case! A murder victim with a bite on her neck at a Twilightfilm opening? Any idiot could see that…"

"The victim was killed by blunt force trauma, not exsanguination!"

"Ex…?"

"Draining of blood. Vampires. No one had sucked her blood. And you, Sherlock — You will not even say the word 'idiot' unless you are referring to yourself or performing a line I've written for you. You may be a good actor, but you're a rubbish detective. Don't forget it!"

"Dimmock is a rubbish…"

"Compared to you, he is a genius."

Sherlock huffed and stared out the window for a few moments. Then he tensed, and turned with wide open eyes. "But I'm with you all the time, John. You're a brilliant detective. I think it's rubbing off on me."

John coughed "Yes, well… still…" He took his turn staring out the cab window before he continued. "But only an idiot would have come to a Twilight showing with glitter all over his face. Why doyou have glitter on your face?"

"It was for an experiment!"

"We both know that you never experiment."

"I was looking for something."

"You were looking for the cigarettes? The ones I confiscated!"

"Well it's yourglitter."

"I thought I told you to stay away from my things."

"Why do you have glitter anyway?"

John cleared his throat. "For an experiment. You're paying the cabbie, by the way."


Sherlock was humming to himself as he started the kettle.

"What are you so happy about?"

"Nothing."

"You didn't…" John walked into the kitchen and stared hard at Sherlock. "You didn't find the cigarettes?"

"No, of course not. You hid them. I was just browsing YouTube."

"Cat videos?"

"No, actually. You might be surprised to learn this, but I've become a very popular man."

"We've gone over this, Sherlock. I am the one who is popular. You are just my face — my stand-in!"

"This time the face is working for itself. Look!" Sherlock turned the laptop toward John.

"Is that… is that you at the cinema?"

"Yes. I'm quite popular. I got four numbers at Tesco this morning."

"Sherlock! Those girls are too young for you!"

"No, no. Nothing like that. Twimoms, John. Twimoms."

"I don't…" John grimaced. "Sherlock, how…" He walked out of the kitchen. "Why do I bother?"


"Sherlock!"

Sherlock shoved something into his pocket.

"Was that… were those fake teeth?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. Now give them…"

"That's the doorbell, John!"

"Fine. Sherlock. This is a very important witness to our murder. His name is Howard Jones. He has read the Twilightseries seven times. He is failing Maths and Chemistry. His girlfriend's name is Melinda McGovern. And he ate a McDonald's double cheeseburger meal just before he came here. Do your most supercilious version, yeah?"

"I need the explanations!"

"We don't have time. Ad lib! That's the only way you ever made it through a stage performance, right? He'll never know that you're talking complete rubbish."

There was a knock at the door.

Sherlock sank into a chair, cleared his throat, and began speaking in a deep voice, "Come in, Howard."

Howard shuffled into the room, and stared out the window.

"Thinking about that cheeseburger, Howard?"

Howard jumped and turned to Sherlock. "H-how?"

"Obvious from the smudge on your cuff and a slight trace of ketchup around your lips. Any idiot could see from the color that it was from the McDonald's between here and your house."

John rolled his eyes. Howard gaped at Sherlock. But he collected himself and began staring out the window again.

"So, why are you here, Howard?" Sherlock looked at John.

Howard looked back to Sherlock. "You know! You sent me that te—"

"Ah the text. That makes sense. You remember the text, John?"

"The one that said 'I know what she did'?"

"Yes, that one. You are here about that text, are you Howard?"

"Yes, I am."

"So you know I know what she did. Now that you know what I know what are you going to do to make sure that no one knows what I know?"

"So… You know?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, tell me what you know, then!"

Sherlock turned to John. "I just told you this morning, didn't I, John?"

"We know that your girlfriend, Melinda, killed Julianne."

Sherlock nodded sagely.

"Because Melinda thought you liked Julianne. Isn't that right, Sherlock?"

"Yes. Obvious."

"And for some reason that I'm sure Sherlock will tell you, you are pretending you were the murderer."

The boy stared at Sherlock. "H-how did you know that?"

John gritted his teeth. "Yes, Sherlock. How? You didn't explain it this morning."

"Erm…" Sherlock glared at a spot above John's shoulder as he rattled off, "Well, it's obvious from your stance and from the way you hold your right had that you aren't a murderer. And the way you jumped when John said 'Melinda' proves that what I told him this morning is absolutely true. And the cut of your trousers shows that you like violent women. So clearly your girlfriend is the murderer. Am I right?"

Howard looked into the middle distance, and put his hand over his heart. "No. You're wrong. I don't want to be a monster. But I am. And Julianne… she smelled so appallingly luscious. Her number was up the first time I met her."

"Sorry, what?"

"I was a lion. I fell in love with a lamb!"

"I-I don't… I can't…" Sherlock stopped.

"Sherlock, are you crying?" Neither Sherlock nor Howard acknowledged John. After a few minutes of silence he cleared his throat. "Well… Sherlock has proof that you did no such thing, Howard. And we've already called Detective Inspector Dimmock, so you might as well tell us what really happened."

Suddenly, Howard burbled, "I… Yes. Yes! Melinda truly believed that she cared for me more than I cared for her. But she doesn't! Melinda is exactly my kind of heroin. I never looked at Julianne. But Melinda decided to fight for me. She… she wanted to scare Julianne off, but there was a fight, and Julianne hit the back of her head. Melinda thought if we made something like a bite mark on her neck, it would look like vampires had done it, and throw you off the scent. Mr. Holmes, you have to believe that no one wanted anyone to be dead. And now… It's like Jacob and Edward all over again. But worse! Because then no one died."

"Actually, if I remember correctly quite a few people—"

"Shut up, Sherlock!"

"Sorry, John."

"Howard, if you would continue?"

"There's no more to say. But I will take the blame. It is for her sake. I would do anything to protect her — even give up my own life."

Sherlock was nodding his head.

"No, you won't!"

Sherlock gasped.

"Really Sherlock?"

"Please don't tell the police, Mr. Holmes."

"Of course I won't. I would never—"

"Yes, he will! Sherlock, you will be informing the police of the truth."

"I — Yes. Yes, I will."

"Good."

Howard started crying.


"John! Look at this."

"What?"

Sherlock pointed to his computer, opened to a blog, "Dazzling Devotion."

"Howard wrote a blog about the case?"

"It's received almost ten times as many hits as your post — 'The Unsuccessful Vampire' you called it? Appropriate, don't you think?" He grinned.

"Shut up."

"Admit it, no one really wants to read your — John!" Sherlock's face fell. "Look at the comments he's getting from those girls! 'Marry me!' 'I want to have your babies!' 'XOXO'. How did… Howard was hideous! Coming after me made sense, but after that… And the pictures. Look at that one. What self-respecting… that can't be — Lisa? I thought we were going out this evening!" Sherlock slammed the lid of his laptop down. "I can't… I'm done with Twilightand Twihards forever!"

"That's a relief… though I hate to think what you might do the next time you are desperate for a girlfriend…"

"Ah! Thank you for the reminder!" Sherlock was grinning again. "You have no grounds to twit me about that. I may not be the investigative genius that the world thinks I am. But I'm not entirely useless."

"Oh?" John looked wary.

"Yes, John. I've solved something all on my own — the mystery of the glitter can."

"You did?"

"Yes. I looked through your phone."

"What? It's password—"

"No, you asked me to send a text this morning. I returned my phone instead."

"Oh. I wondered why no one called today."

"So the glitter is from that teacher — Jeanette? You were helping her make Valentine's Day cards for her students."

John turned very red.

"I didn't know that you liked handicrafts."

"I was just trying to be helpful!"

"No, you were desperate. How did that go for you anyway?"

John had turned very red. "How did it go? How did it go?Do you remember when I was on a date two weeks ago and you walked into the restaurant asking for my help because you had a bill collector on your tail and you needed money?"

"Erm… vaguely?"

"Yes. Do you also remember that the girl left with you?"

"Ah."

"Yes." John stomped into the kitchen.

"Yes… well then… John? I hope this isn't a bad time."

"It's alwaysa bad time, Sherlock!"

"Yes, well, you should know that a Sarah Sawyer has been texting you all day. And also that you may have invited her to see Breaking Dawnthis evening."

"I did what?"

"John! Just… Before you do anything rash. Here are the tickets. She said yes!"


Author's Note: This is a Sherlock / Without a Clue fusion. All credit goes to the copyright holders of those two SH adaptations. Title from that hilarious song by Bruno Mars.