Chapter Text
It was a peaceful midmorning at 221B Baker Street. Dr. John Watson had just popped out to buy groceries; Tetsuna Kuroko was draped on the couch, studying one of her textbooks, while her dog, Nigou, snoozed on her back; Sherlock Holmes was, surprisingly, quietly reading a morning newspaper. It had been a few weeks since their run in with the nefarious cabbie that tried to murder Tetsuna, and it seemed that things were finally starting to calm down.
“You took your time,” Sherlock as John re-entered the flat, having been preceded by his footsteps on the creaky stairs.
“Yeah,” John replied, voice irritated. “I didn’t get the shopping.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I had a row with the chip-n-pin machine.”
Sherlock had the gall to look amused. “You had a row with a machine?”
“Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse at it. D’you have any cash?”
Sherlock nudged Tetsuna with his foot. “Grab my card,” he instructed. “Go with John to make sure he doesn’t get into another row with an inanimate object.”
Tetsuna nodded in spite of John’s protests and marked her page.
As they left the flat, John didn’t even notice the new gouge on the dining room table. Sherlock grinned and kicked his feet back to further hide the machete he’d gotten for his troubles.
“So,” John said as the two of them walked to the store. “Are you okay? After, you know, everything that happened with the cabbie?”
Tetsuna nodded. “I’m fine, Dr. Watson. I know that what he was saying was an attempt to rile me up. I should not take it to heart.”
“And who told you that?”
“Sherlock and Mycroft both.”
John sighed. “You should know by now that they’re not exactly the best people to take advice about human nature from. If you ever need to talk about what that Jeff character said, I’m all ears.”
A moment of silence. Then, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Tetsuna looked at the ground they walked on. “It was like he was in my head. He knew everything I was thinking about. He knew every hurtful thing I’ve ever thought, about myself or others. He knew my insecurities. He knew my secrets. It was terrifying.”
“Well, he can’t get to you now.”
“Thanks to you, yes. Thank you very much, Dr. Watson.”
“You can call me John.”
When John and Tetsuna returned to the flat, Sherlock was on John’s laptop. “What’re you doing with my stuff?” the army doctor demanded, dropping his grocery bags on the floor and rushing the detective. “Why not use your own computer?”
“It was in the bedroom,” Sherlock said, as if that were the obvious reason why he’d stolen John’s personal property.
“What, and you couldn’t be bothered to go get it? How did you get into my computer anyway? It’s got a password!”
“Not a difficult one; took me less than a minute to guess it. Not exactly Fort Knox, Doctor.”
“Alright!” John reached over and slapped the laptop shut. He retreated to his armchair and began sifting through the bills that littered the end table next to it. A minute later, as Tetsuna was putting away the groceries and Sherlock had his hands in the thinking position, John groaned. “I need to get a job. We can’t pay the bills.”
“Dull,” was Sherlock’s immediate response. Then, “I need to go to the bank.”
John regarded the bank in awe. “When you said we were going to the bank,” he breathed as he, Sherlock, Tetsuna, and, surprisingly, Nigou, had gotten onto the escalator, “I didn’t expect this.”
Sherlock ignored his flatmate and made a beeline for the receptionists. “Sherlock Holmes,” he said.
A moment later, the four occupants of 221B Baker Street were seated in an expensive office. A man came swaggering in, wearing a suit that had to be triple the price of their flat at least, grinning with a gap between his front teeth. “Sherlock Holmes,” he said almost fondly.
Sherlock stood to shake the man’s hand. “Sebastian,” he returned.
“How are you, buddy?” Sebastian asked, trying for a hug that the detective allowed, stiffly. “How long’s it been, eight years?”
“Sebastian, this is my adoptive daughter, Tetsuna Kuroko,” Tetsuna bowed politely at the introduction, “and my friend, John Watson.”
“Daughter? Friend?” asked Sebastian, almost in disbelief.
John’s hackles rose. “Colleague,” he spat.
Ignoring Sherlock’s slightly hurt look, Sebastian clamped John’s hand in his own with the same enthusiasm he’d had with Sherlock. “Well, it’s good to meet you both. Need anything? Coffee, water?” he asked as he sat in the leather chair on the other side of the desk from which they sat.
“No, thanks,” Sherlock replied curtly. “So you’re doing well. Been around the world two times this month.”
Sebastian laughed, a breathy sound that made John cringe. “Right. You’re doing that thing.” He looked at John and Tetsuna then. “We were at uni together, and this guy here had a trick he used to do. He would look at you and tell you your whole life’s story. We all hated him.”
John could see Tetsuna visibly stiffen, and the sudden pressure in her petting of Nigou made him whine.
“I don’t like him,” Tetsuna said to John while Sebastian went over the details of the previous night’s break in with Sherlock.
John nodded in agreement. “I was trying to be polite, yeah? I kept telling myself, Don’t punch his face in.”
“You should’ve.”
“I’d’ve been arrested, Tetsuna.”
She regarded him with a curious look. “I have a friend that could have gotten you out of jail easily.”
“Does Mycroft count as a friend?”
“Not him, John. Seijuro Akashi. He e-mailed me last night to tell me that he was going to be in London on business for a while and he invited me to lunch.”
John vaguely remembered that name. “Your friends from Angelo’s seemed afraid of him.”
“He is absolute.”
The trip to Van Coon’s apartment was mostly silent, save for Tetsuna’s quiet humming as she ran her fingers through Nigou’s thick fur.
While John and Tetsuna spoke, Sherlock made leaps and bounds on the break in. The yellow graffiti was a message meant for the Hong Kong trader, a man named Van Coon. Even before he’d made the deductions, Sebastian handed John a check with so many zeroes the veteran had felt light headed. If they could solve this case, they’d be set for months.
As the cab rolled to a stop, Sherlock bound out of it, followed in short order by his three flatmates (because, yes, Nigou was a flatmate in his own right. Who else would give warning barks in the dark when John almost ran into doorframes and eat the food Sherlock burnt in his sporadic attempts to cook?). He rang the buzzer impatiently, and quite nearly growled when he received no response. He then rang for the floor above, made up a story about having just moved in to get buzzed up, and was quickly granted access.
A story-tall jump and a little investigation later, Sherlock unlocked the flat door from the inside for John, Tetsuna, and Nigou and called for the NSY.
Of course, Sherlock then got into a row with the unfamiliar detective, a young bloke named Dimmock, who was in charge while Lestrade was busy on another case. Dimmock was clearly on the Donovan-Anderson side of the liking-Sherlock spectrum. The two argued about whether or not Van Coon had committed suicide (not, claimed Sherlock, and yes, said Dimmock).
When they were done at Van Coon’s flat and had delivered the news to Sebastian (who seemed disgustingly unfazed, in John’s mind), the group returned to the flat.
Waiting on the sidewalk for them was a young man with scarlet hair John recognized from Tetsuna’s photo. He was older, yes; his face more angular, a tad taller. Tetsuna froze up slightly as she caught sight of him.
“Testuna,” he greeted in English, sounding as smooth as any native speaker, “it’s been a while.”
“Yes, Akashi,” Tetsuna replied.
“I texted you several times earlier.”
“I left my phone here. John, Sherlock, Nigou, and I went out.”
John cleared his throat. “Uh, Tetsuna, who’s this?”
Tetsuna tore her gaze away from the man’s, and John finally noticed his eyes. One was red, and the other was yellow. “John, this is Seijuro Akashi. Akashi, this is Dr. John Watson, our new flatmate.”
Seijuro glanced at John, and the veteran felt like no more than a small canary caught in the gaze of a lion. There were few people who could make John feel so inferior, and he didn’t like it at all. Then, his gaze moved to Sherlock. “Ah, Sherlock. It’s been a while.”
Sherlock nodded dismissively. “Yes, I suppose it has. You’d like to come up for a cuppa, I’m sure.”
“If I will not intrude.”
“Of course not, Akashi,” Tetsuna said, sounding, to John, much more demure and submissive than usual. “It would be our pleasure.”
Another thing about this Seijuro John didn’t like: he swaggered about the flat like he owned it. “Where do you sleep, John?” he asked as he lounged on the couch, waiting for Tetsuna to prepare tea in the kitchen. Sherlock was talking quietly on the phone, and Nigou had remained at Tetsuna’s heels (the smart bastard).
“Ah, in the downstairs bedroom. Sherlock said he preferred sleeping in tight spaces anyway, so he takes the couch.”
“And what is it you do for a living?”
“I’m not employed, currently. I was recently invalidated from the military.”
“Then how do you pay your part of the rent? I assume you don’t make Sherlock and Tetsuna do all the work.”
John bristled. “I’m looking for a job. They’re just not easy to come by these days.”
Akashi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and a dangerous glint in his eye. “How hard can it be for a surgeon to find a job, John?”
John was saved from answering by Tetsuna’s arrival, holding a tray with several mugs of tea. “I hope you like it, Akashi,” she said in that cowed voice John was starting to hate. “John and I just went shopping this morning, so the tea should be fresh.”
“Ah, thank you, Tetsuna.” He took a mug, smiling in a way that should have been charming but came off as predatory. “If you made it, I’m sure it will suit me perfectly.”
“Thank you for your praise, Akashi.”
The ensuing conversation set John terribly on edge. This boy was only Tetsuna’s age, right? How could he be so dangerous? He felt like Mycroft, like one wrong move would push him too far and make him snap. He tried not to listen too much, but Seijuro’s voice pulled him in.
“How are your classes going, Tetsuna?”
“Fine, Akashi. I am only having trouble in part of the general maths. I am confident I will bring my grade up before the end of the semester.”
“I can arrange some private tutors if you want. I would hate for you to fall behind on your education. After all, as a member of the Generation of Miracles, it would bring shame on the rest of us.”
The way he said that made John’s skin crawl. It was just....off, somehow. Luckily, before Tetsuna had to answer, Seijuro’s phone buzzed from his pocket. The young man pulled it out and answered. “Kore wa Akashidesu. Hai. Hai. Anata wa sore ga, kare ga itta kotoda to kakushin shite imasu ka? Sate sate, watashi wa tsugi no ben ni norudarou. Ko no tame no hankyō ga arudeshou. Watashi wa ima, hangu appu shite i. Sayōnara.” He violently jabbed the end button, sighed, and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “That was one of my managers. I’m afraid something’s come up; I have to return to Japan immediately.”
John couldn’t say he was sorry to see him go.
After making a few more pleasantries and promising to visit again, Seijuro took his leave. As soon as he was gone, John slumped forward in his chair like a marionette whose strings had just been cut. “That was rather intense.”
Tetsuna was silent as she gathered up the tea mugs.
“So,” said John that night, long after Tetsuna retreated to her room, “why is Seijuro so intense?”
Sherlock, who had been looking over the crime scene photos, sighed. “It’s a long story, John.”
“I don’t have much else to do in the meantime.”
A pause. Then, “Seijuro was raised from a young age to believe that winning was everything. To his father, if he lost, he was worthless. So he worked and worked and worked until he was the smartest and the strongest and the fastest. He was an emperor in a sea of peasants.
“He met Tetsuna and the rest of their friends in middle school. Their school was very elite; only the best went there. It didn’t matter what they were good at, as long as they were excellent. The six of them were the regulars of their basketball team. Tetsuna has never been very physical, so her specialty was passing. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, people tend to overlook her. She used that to her advantage when she played basketball.
“Anyway, she developed this skill with Seijuro’s help. Their team became the strongest. However, the members of the team became too strong for their own good. No one could even come close to beating them. When it came time for them to go to high school, they parted ways to see whose team would beat the others.
“Tetsuna went to a no name school and trained them to beat the Generation of Miracles. When she beat Seijuro, something inside him broke. He seems to revere Tetsuna as a goddess now. It’s very unhealthy for his psyche. Tetsuna goes along with it to keep him from snapping.
“He’s almost as sociopathic as I am.”
John exhaled. “Wow.”