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It was a case of stolen jewels, old family feuds, and murder; all of which is right up Sherlock’s alley. The man himself was currently crouching uncomfortably close to the corpse, examining it with his magnifying glass.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well, what?” The man shot back.
I huffed. “Stop being difficult, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve been working on this case for weeks,” there had been three more murders after the first before Sherlock finally agreed that the incident was worth his time. “Please tell me you’ve figured it out. It’s getting late and I’m freezing.”
Sherlock stood up, pulling out his phone. “Of course I have. Who do you think I am, Lestrade, an incompetent member of the police?”
All I bothered to muster was a weary eye-roll. “Oh for god’s sake! Just tell me who the murderer is.” Sherlock kept typing away on his phone. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Hmm?” The man kept typing away on his phone.
“Sherlock, I swear, if I wasn’t so cold I’d probably punch you. Just tell me who the murderer is.”
“It’s perfectly obvious.”
“Sherlock-“
“Fine, fine.” He waved his hand in a sweeping motion. “It’s right in front of your face. She was poisoned, yes? Same as all the other victims?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong.”
“What? What are you-“
“Be quiet and let me explain. The others were murdered, but this one was a suicide. She killed her sisters for the family inheritance, but she was consequently consumed by guilt and committed suicide with the same poison.”
I stood shocked, as one often does when confronted with Sherlock’s genius. The detective already began walking away.
“How can you tell this was a suicide?”
Sherlock’s phone beeped, and he let out a short, sarcastic laugh at his text message.
Donovan entered the room and stood, staring at Sherlock. “What’s the freak laughing at?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Yeah, right. What is it, freak? Your imaginary girlfriend?”
“Boyfriend.”
“What?”
“I’m texting my boyfriend. Only, he isn’t imaginary. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lestrade. Try to find an interesting case, will you?”
Sherlock walked away, coat flowing dramatically behind him as we both stood, astounded. We turned towards each other.
“Did he just say he has a boyfriend?”
“I think he did.”
“But who would wanna date the freak?” I glared at Donovan. “You know I’m right. It must be one hell of a person to put up with him all of the time.”
I had to admit she was a little right. Sherlock was scathing at the best of days. But, as curious as I was, I’m not meddlesome enough to stick my nose in other people’s affairs.
“It’s not any of our business. Work on getting the crime scene cleared.”
Donovan huffed. “Whatever. He’s probably lying anyways.” She left to work on cleaning up.
Does Sherlock have a boyfriend? I can’t imagine anyone fascinating enough to ever catch Sherlock’s eye.
He’s probably lying, as Donovan said. Yeah? It’s just one of his preposterous little social experiments.
—————
I had all but forgotten the boyfriend incident a mere three weeks later. Two bodies had turned up in the River Thames, prompting sleepless nights for everyone in Scotland Yard.
A third body had just been found, so Sherlock and I agreed to meet at the scene.
“What do you think?” I asked him, “Is it the same murderer? Suicide?”
“It’s hard to tell because the river washed most of the evidence away.” He leaned in to look closer at the back of the victims head. After staring for a few seconds, he pulled out his phone and took a picture.
“What are you doing?” He kept typing away on his phone. “Sherlock?”
“Shush, just give me a moment.” His fingers continued typing away on his phone.
And then, the strangest thing happened.
He broke into a smile.
And not the fake smile he uses to manipulate people, but a truer, softer version that I had never seen before.
I remembered the conversation we’d had three weeks ago and managed to put the dots together.
“Must be some bloke you’ve got, to make you smile like that.”
He looked up, startled, and I saw him put his mask back on.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
I smiled at him gently. “Liar.”
—————
This case was barely a five, but that was always better than no cases. No cases lead to a hysterical Sherlock; and a hysterical Sherlock lead to Sherlock doing drugs again.
He had been doing so well, but lately Sherlock seemed... off. I could see it when he thought no one was looking.
The man was crouched on the floor, examining the footprints of the culprit.
“How are you doing, Sherlock?” He didn’t answer. “Come on, Sherlock, answer me.”
He stood up and unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. “I’m perfectly well, Lestrade. I don’t understand your sudden concern.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sherlock. I may not be a genius like you,” Sherlock huffed a small laugh, “but I’m not socially inept, either. I can tell something’s wrong. What is it?”
He looked, for a moment, shaken. “Why do you care?”
“Why do I- Sherlock, I’ve known you for years now. We’re coworkers and,” I paused to choose my next words carefully, “friends? Yes. Friends. And friends care about each other and make sure they are okay. Alright, Sherlock?”
“We’re... friends?”
“Yes. While you may act like a major asshole all the time,” he rolled his eyes, “spending time with you isn’t completely appalling. In truth, I do enjoy watching you solve cases. I think that makes us friends.”
He smiled. “Okay. Friends it is.”
“Do you want to talk about anything?” Sherlock turned back to look down at the wooden floors of the store. He looked hesitant. I saw some of his walls he built around him start to crack. He pulled his scarf off and twisted it around his hands.
“I-“
Donavan popped her head through the door. “C’mon, it’s time to get out of here. Oh hey, freak. Didn’t see you come in. How’s your fake boyfriend doing?” Sherlock sneered at her, his earlier unguarded demeanor gone. She smirked and left, shutting the door harder than was needed.
To my dismay, Sherlock’s face was resolute once again. He straightened up and leveled his chin confidently, wrapping his scarf around his pale neck. I sighed.
“Sherlock, you don’t need to pretend to be okay. Just tell me what’s bothering you.”
Sadly, the moment had passed, and the man was back to his normal, arrogant self. “I still have no idea what you are speaking of. The only thing irking me is that the police aren’t smart enough to solve a case as simple as this.”
My spirits were dampened. Just as I was finally getting Sherlock to open up, he shut himself back down again.
In a last ditch attempt to soften him up, I added, “Well, if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here for you. Remember that.”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object.
—————
I set the heavy cardboard box on my desk.
“Here’s some cold cases for you. Sorry there’s nothing else for you to work on.”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “I guess I’ll make do with this. Hopefully, someone will be murdered soon.” I opened my mouth to argue, but decided it wasn’t worth the fight.
My stomach growled, reminding me to take my lunch break.
“I’m going to grab something to eat. Walk with me?” Sherlock reluctantly nodded, and picked up the hefty box to carry outside.
I opened the door for him, for which he nodded in thanks.
“So, what’s up?” The man pursed his lips together in annoyance.
“Are you really going to make conversation?”
“Might as well, while we’re together.” I replied.
He sighed. “I don’t see the point in small talk. What is there to say?”
I slipped my hands into my pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know. Tell me what’s been going on in your life.” I hesitated. “How’s the bloke doing? The one you’re dating, that is.”
The man crinkled his nose and seemed displeased. “Must we talk about this?”
“Of course! It’s what friends talk about, after all.”
“You’re just nosy.”
“Well, pardon me for being surprised that you would actually find someone worth dating.”
He gave me a strange look and didn’t reply.
“What? What is it?” I asked.
He looked down at his feet. “I thought you’d be more surprised at the fact that someone would actually choose to date me.”
I stopped and grabbed his arm.
“Sherlock. Look at me.” He raised his head. “I don’t know who made you feel like you aren’t worth something, but believe me, you are.” I wasn’t very good at this ‘comforting friends’ thing.
“Hey, how about we go get something to eat.” He looked at me as if I was speaking in a foreign language.
“Why? I’m not hungry.”
“Too bad. We’re going to go eat and you’re going to tell me all about this bloke you’re hung up on. Alright?”
Sherlock sighed. “Fine.”
The two of us walked down the block to the nearest café, with him still carrying the box of cold cases. We sat down and I ordered a sandwich. He, unsurprisingly, ordered nothing.
“So.”
The man quirked an eyebrow. “So.”
“What’s going on with him? And don’t lie to me, I can tell that something’s wrong.”
Sherlock sighed. “My...my boyfriend is in the military.”
Someone who wouldn’t object to Sherlock’s line of work. Made sense. “And?”
“He came home for Christmas, and he just recently got deployed again.” He up at me, unsure. “I miss him.”
I chose my next words carefully. “When my brother enlisted, I threw myself into my schoolwork. I found that whenever I was working, the thought of missing him was pushed a bit to the side. I’m not saying it’s a very healthy coping mechanism, but it helped me push through.”
“So you’re saying that focusing on something else will get rid of the pain?”
“Not necessarily get rid of the pain... more like push it to the side.” I hesitated, not wanting to make him angry. “You could try counseling?”
He shook his head. “I’d never find anyone smart enough to keep up with me.” I laughed a little at this.
“Here’s your sandwich.” The waiter put my plate on the table and I thanked him.
I ate a few bites before talking again. “If you ever need to talk about things, I’m here for you, alright?” The man glared at me.
—————
My breathing is heavy as I chase after Sherlock, who in turn chases after the culprit.
The woman outrunning us is the last member of a criminal group. They had robbed a string of banks before we finally managed to catch them.
The three of us dart around a corner. Sweat drips off of me. Why is today the first day of hot, sunny weather in a month?
About halfway down the street, she stops and turns around, pulling out a gun. She points the gun at Sherlock.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” She yells. “Put your hands in the air! Both of you!” Sherlock and I exchange glances before slowly raising our hands into the air.
See? This is what you get for not bringing backup, I chastise myself. Fuck.
Without warning, a shot rings off. I look to Sherlock, expecting the worst. But to my surprise, it isn’t him who’s shot, it’s the woman. She cries out and drops the gun. I look to my left and see a man with a cane, holding a handgun. He is standing on the stoop of an apartment, with a composed look on his face.
I snapped out of my surprise and rush forwards, drawing out my handcuffs. The bullet wound is only a graze on the arm, and she isn’t in danger of bleeding out. Sherlock and I cuff her quickly to the nearest post.
I take out my gun and turn towards the man on the stoop.
“Who are you?”
He snaps into a military salute. “Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers at your service.” He was beaming as he said this. I put away my gun.
“I thought you said you’d be resting your leg, John.” I turned in surprise to Sherlock. He had the softest look I’d ever seen on his face. Wait... Could this be-
“And I thought you promised to stay out of trouble.” Despite his words, the man said in a teasing tone of voice.
The two shared a secret look, something I felt as if I shouldn’t be seeing.
Sherlock turned towards me, and it was if he had forgotten I was there.
“Ah, I should probably tell you.” He looked back at John and I already knew what he was going to say. “This is my boyfriend, John Watson.”
I wasn’t surprised at all. I smiled and walked up the steps to shake his hand. “Detective Inspector Lestrade, a friend of Sherlock’s.”
John’s face lit with recognition. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Mostly good things, I hope.” The two of us laughed.
Sherlock huffed and we both turned back towards him. “What is it now?” I asked.
“You’re not even surprised that he’s my boyfriend. Why? How could you tell?” He stared eerily at me.
I merely chuckled. “I’ve never seen you look at anyone else like that. It’s the same look that you get when you talk on the phone with him.” Sherlock’s face turned a tinge red and John laughed lightheartedly.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed love. I’m sure I look the same.”
The woman started yanking on her handcuffs, alerting me to the fact that I was still on the job.
“I’m going to call Donovan, and have her come by to bring her to the station.” I nodded to John. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise.” He replied. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last I’d see of him.