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I've got a triple for you, wanna take a look? -GL
BORING – SH
Really? You love triples – GL
For gods sake, I'm busy go away -SH
Lestrade did a double take at that. Sherlock was never too busy for a triple. Greg already wasn't having a good week. His flat was being fumigated so he'd been sleeping in his office. Donovan and Anderson were having a row so crime scenes are more tense than usual. And of course Sherlock Bloody Holmes was too 'busy' to help him.
Sherlock was too busy. He was waiting for John to come online. It was time for their monthly video-call. John was coming home in 6 months but they still talked for at least ten minutes on the tenth of each month.
He wasn't going to take that bloody case because in three hours, just 180 minutes (!), his John would be right in front of him. No, he wasn't even going to look. No looking at interesting crime scenes until after the call.
XXX
Two hours later, Anderson was just finishing his analysis of the scene where a family of three was lying , covered in their own blood in the middle of an abandoned theme park.
Sherlock strutted up to the tape, ducking under it with a snap.
“Hello Freak,” Donovan muttered.
“Donovan,” he returned with a disgusted sneer. Well isn't this going to be fun...Greg thought with malice.
Sherlock walked up to Lestrade muttering some form of greeting. Greg was too tired to even try to pay attention to the constant spew of deductions coming from the lanky git.
“Sherlock, main points please,” Lestrade rubbed his temples hoping to stave of the impending migraine this week had become. Sherlock spun on the spot to glare at the DI.
“Fine, it was the neighbor who had come her often as a child. She will have yellow tulips in her garden.” He stomped away with one final shot, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO BOTHER ME!”
Anderson threw Greg a look saying what was that all about? Greg shrugged and went to find this neighbor.
XXX
Completely ignoring Sherlock's warning, the next morning, Greg knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street.
“Go away!” he heard muffled by the door.
“None of the neighbors had tulips! He shouted, hoping it wasn't so loud as to wake Mrs. Hudson, it was rather early after all.
“Too bad, come back in a few days,”
Lestrade tried the doorknob, but for the first time in his memory, Sherlock's door was locked. Fine, Greg thought, if he doesn't want my case, then he doesn't need it! He stomped down the stairs already dialing Donovan to go through the neighbors' gardens again.
Sherlock, on the other hand, was barely holding it together. John had missed their video-call. That had never happened before. Sherlock sat at on the sofa staring at the screen.
JOHN WATSON IS OFFLINE
Sherlock had refreshed the page every minute since 1:30 the day before. John had said he wouldn't miss it. He never had before. Something is wrong. He had even texted and then called Mycroft to find out what happened. Nothing. Sherlock had nothing.
So now he was a puddle on the sofa, too loose pajamas wrinkled and bunched up, robe thrown over John's chair so he didn't have to really look at it. Sherlock was hiding from everything John.
XXX
Once again, none of the neighbors had tulips or had even been to the amusement park. So Lestrade was back at Baker Street.
“Sherlock open this door right now or else!” Greg yelled, pounding on the door.
Sherlock opened the door and shuffled to the sofa where it looked like he had been living for the past five days.
“Christ mate are you alright?” Greg looked around to see any other messes or experiments. He shuddered to think of what the inside of the fridge looked like right now.
“ I'm fine now tell me what's so difficult about finding a neighbor who owns tulips” Sherlock's face had all the normal disdain but his voice sounded off, almost broken.
“They just don't exist. We checked every person within a three block radius and nobody had any yellow tulips.” Greg moved the dressing gown off the chair to sit down.
“DON'T- don't sit there.” Sherlock bolted upright as Greg had started to lower himself onto the seat. John's seat. Sherlock thought to himself.
“O-okay, I'll not sit there,” Greg eyed his friend as he put the robe back over the chair.
“Are you actually okay? You don't have to help us, I just thought you'd like it.” Greg wandered into the kitchen to start making tea because Sherlock definitely needed it.
“No, don't make tea,” Sherlock said weakly. Greg almost didn't hear him.
“Okay, seriously, what's wrong? Mycroft embarrass you or something?” Greg actually looked scared now.
“No, but I can't help with this case anymore. Good-bye,” And with that, Sherlock flipped himself over so he faced the back of the sofa. Greg took his leave.
XXX
Sherlock woke up to his ringtone. Assuming it was Greg he spat out, “What?” as he hit the answer button.
“Well isn't that a nice way to be greeted, no wonder you like to text,” A rather amused but tired voice said.
“John!” Sherlock sprung up from the sofa to start pacing as fast as he could. Adrenaline mixed with fear and curiosity flooded his senses.
“Hello. I'm sorry I missed our call, we transferred to a new location and wifi hadn't been set up yet. Hence this call.” John was giggling internally at Sherlock's enthusiasm.
They talked for another 15 minutes before John had to go.
“Love you Sherlock,” John said quietly.
“Love you more,” Sherlock mumbled.
John disconnected the call with a sigh.
XXX
Lestrade was doing paperwork, slowly but surely making his way through the post case bureaucracy when Sherlock bounded into his office.
“It wasn't a neighbor, it was the aunt, well the mother's aunt.” He spewed as he was almost bouncing off the walls.
“Oh so now you want to help,” Lestrade muttered into his sea of A4.
“Yes, and now you know where to find her. Any other interesting ones?” Sherlock's eyes were darting everywhere and deducing everything. It was enough to give Greg a headache.
“No, but I'll call you,”
“I prefer to text,” He called as he bounced out and down the hall.
XXX
About a month later, Sherlock had burst onto a fresh scene magnifying glass out and ready.
“Good morning Donovan,” He said loudly to a blatantly suffering Sally, “I see last night was fun wasn't it?” He didn't even wait for a response as he swept by.
Lestrade just rolled his eyes and mouthed an apology to Donovan. Sherlock was already inside and spluttering out deductions by the time Greg got in the room. Twirling around in his bloody coat, he stepped to look at the windowsill.
“Sir, there's a man here looking for Holmes,” one of the techs told Lestrade.
Sherlock looked out the window to see his brother glaring up at him. “It's probably something to do with going to Sunday dinner or something,” he muttered with a sigh, stalking out of the room and down the stairs. Greg just followed behind confused as all get. Who knew where Sherlock was? Is this about last month?
Lestrade came outside and stood with Anderson, Donovan and a few techs that had nothing else to do. Everyone else paid no attention to the man behind the tape and finished clearing and searching the rest of the house.
“What do you want Mycroft?” the detective spat.
“I have a surprise for you,” Mycroft twisted around and gestured to the black car he had arrived in. As he did this, the door opened and a short man in fatigues stepped out. He walked over to Sherlock slowly, as if he didn't trust himself – or his cane for that matter – yet. Sherlock's eyes flew wide as he jumped – yes, he literally jumped over the police tape – and nearly tackled the man with a hug.
“John,” He cried into the little man's shoulder. Sherlock grabbed the man by the back of the neck – not in a harsh way – and pushed him to look at him. “You lied to me! You didn't miss the call because of wifi issues!”
“Oops,” the man said with a little shrug, “I actually got shot that day and Mycroft thought it would be fun to surprise you.” Sherlock seemed to be done with talking because he resumed hugging 'John' again.
Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson looked a little shell-shocked. For one, they had no idea what was actually happening, and for another, Donovan and Anderson didn't even think someone would willingly want to hug the Freak. What happened next took them all by surprise – even the one tech in the corner that dropped a UV lamp – because Sherlock picked John up and started to snog the living daylights out of him.
After a considerable amount of time, Sherlock set John down and they whispered to each other. And they walked over to Lestrade and Co..
“If you would all please stop drooling over yourselves, that would be marvelous. Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson, this is John.” Sherlock said with an almost-sneer, it was hard to be sarcastic when you're so happy. John punched him lightly on the shoulder but was still grinning from ear to ear.
“Hello, as I'm sure Sherlock didn't mention me before, seeing as none of you can even think at the moment, I'm Captain John Watson-Holmes, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Ah and there's the shock, well the other shock.” John, of course, was speaking of the fact that as soon as he said his last name, Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson's eyes flickered between Sherlock and John so many times it hurt.
“You're married?!?” Lestrade nearly shouted.
“Yes, thank you for that brilliant deduction,” Sherlock said as he rolled his eyes.
“You,” Sally said nodding to John, “Married the Freak?” Now, this probably wasn't the wisest thing to say as Sally realized as soon as it fell out of her mouth.
“Yes, I did,” John spat bitingly, “and I would suggest that you never call him that again. After all, just because you're an idiot doesn't mean his genius is wrong.” There was a murderous glare in John's eye and Greg could almost see Sherlock doing a mental happy dance. “Now I am going to take my brilliant husband home now. Nice to meet you Mr. Lestrade,” John nodded to Greg without sparing the other two another glance and walked away Sherlock's hand clutched in his.
THE END