Work Text:
Bored. Bored. Bored.
Sherlock lay on the worn leather couch, staring up at the ceiling as he anxiously twirled a small blade in his hand. The steady London traffic could be heard below, only fuelling his impatience.
Six days. He had gone six days without a case.
This is absolutely absurd. London is always bustling! I’m sure there’s a bloody murder that needs solving... perhaps a quaint unexplained robbery?
Sherlock’s grip on the silver blade tightened as he expertly turned it over and over again. He felt shifty, restless... bored.
“BLAST!” Sherlock roared as he sat upright and lanced the blade at the wall opposite him.
“Damn it, Sherlock!”
John stared at the sharp weapon that had impaled itself in the wall by the doorway. It had landed mere inches shy of his nose.
“You could have killed me!”
“Precisely John! I very well could have, but I didn’t.”
“Well you were bloody close!”
Sherlock sat up and gave John a condescending smile before walking proudly to the kitchen, dressing gown dragging lazily behind him.
His voice echoed sarcastically as he paced about aimlessly. “I was wondering when you’d show up. The kettle’s on.”
John closed his eyes and sighed heavily as he took in Sherlock’s ragged appearance. The consulting detective was clad in his nightclothes despite the late noon hour; loose flannel bottoms, a white cotton shirt, and his favourite navy dressing gown. His hair was unkempt and a dark shadow had appeared on his lower face. In summary, he was a mess.
Sherlock paced frantically, voice animated as he began ranting to his friend.
“Six days John, a near week since my last case!”
“Sherlock-”
“One hundred and fourteen hours sans travail, and still, Lestrade can’t seem to find me anything!”
“Sherlock, If you would just listen-“ John began, calmly.
Sherlock stopped pacing abruptly, and turned briskly to face John, a frown on his face.
“Do you know what I need? Cigarettes. Do we have cigarettes?” He paused for a moment. “Or perhaps Ginger nuts... do we have any of those?”
Oh dear lord, he’s manic. John thought to himself, irritation creeping in.
“SHERLOCK!” John hollered, still standing by the flat’s entrance.
The consulting detective turned haughtily, a patronizing expression adorning his face. “Now John, there’s no need to shout.”
John gritted his teeth and spoke tersely. “Sherlock, did you forget what day it is?”
“Tuesday!” He quipped with a hum.
“It’s Sunday, actually” a voice called out from the hallway.
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at the sound of the stranger’s voice. “John, you didn’t mention company.”
John closed his eyes again and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to keep his cool. “What I’ve been trying to tell you Sherlock, is that Y/N’s finally landed in London. You were supposed to meet her today, remember?”
Sherlock stared at him blankly. “Who?”
“Y/N? Bloody hell Sherlock, I’ve been reminding you of her visit for the past month. We spoke about it just this morning!”
“I’m sorry John, you know I haven’t the time for another one of your unfortunate dates.”
The stranger finally stepped forward, gently nudging John aside.
“Good to know. Do you think you can make the time to meet his unfortunate sister instead?”
All possible retorts remained up in the air as Sherlock lost his train of thought. The woman before him was strikingly beautiful. He stood in awe, eyes skirting over her as he tried and failed to make any useful deductions. For once in his life, the great Sherlock Holmes was at a loss for words. It was more than her beauty that had captivated him, it was the air of intelligence that surrounded her. The subtle certitude in her stand, the sincerity lacing her eyes. She was stunning in every aspect.
Y/N bit her lip anxiously as her brother’s flat mate stood silently, gawking at her from across the room.
He’s absolutely gorgeous she thought to herself.
The awkward silence dragged on, and Y/N began shuffling nervously, digging her nails into the flat of her palm as the man continued staring, not uttering a word. She finally met his gaze, and granted him a small albeit skeptical smile.
“Right then, introductions.” John interrupted, cocking a brow at his friend‘s odd behaviour.
“Y/N, this is-“
“Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. It’s a pleasure, truly.” Sherlock stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Y/N.
“Well, I’m Y/N Watson. It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mr Holmes. John has told me so much about you.”
“I’m sure he has.”
Y/N reached her arm out and Sherlock met her halfway, grabbing hold of her hand, and shaking in greeting. His eyes met hers and for a moment, they simply studied one another.
Sherlock’s gaze lowered, focusing on Y/N’s lips. His thoughts wandered as he imagined the great multitude of fascinating topics which she might enjoy speaking of. Perhaps she enjoyed the discipline of science as much as he did... maybe she liked to read... she might even like dogs! And of course, he wondered what it might feel like to press his lips against hers, even if just for a single moment. To feel the warmth of her skin flush against his as they shared an impassioned kiss.
Y/N’s breath hitched at the contact, however amicable, of her hand being enveloped by Sherlock’s. She had been desperate to meet him for over a year now. Ever since John moved to 221B Baker Street, he had been calling his sister daily to recount his great adventures with the legendary Sherlock Holmes. Soon enough, Y/N had found herself harbouring an epic crush on the consulting detective. Though she’d never admit it, she had even started reading John’s blog just to satisfy her strange infatuation with the man in the trench coat.
John cleared his throat uncomfortably, spurring Sherlock and Y/N out of their thoughts. “Yes, well, I’m very sorry to interrupt this moment of yours, but, umm... tea?”
“No thank you John, it’s warm enough in here.”
“Y/N, it’s the dead of winter outside and Sherlock has all the windows open. It’s hardly warm.”
“Oh...” Y/N managed sheepishly. In retrospect, she realized the flat was rather brisk, though she could hardly feel the chill. She was so enraptured by Sherlock that a contented warmth had surrounded her.
“Also, I think the point’s come across, you can both end the handshake now.”
“Oh, we’re still shaking!” Y/N exclaimed, redirecting her attention to Sherlock.
“Yes,” he chuckled, “it appears we are.”
Sherlock finally let Y/N’s hand fall, and walked toward the hearth. As he stepped away, back to the Watsons, he could still feel a whisper of her touch, and subtlety flexed his hand.
RING, RING!
John took out his mobile phone and accepted the call, but not before rolling his eyes at Sherlock and Y/N.
Could they make it any more obvious that they clearly fancy each other? He thought to himself.
“Hello? Are you sure? Yes, I’ll tell him, he’s dying for a new case. Exactly, absolutely insufferable! Okay, yes, alright. See you then. Bye, Greg.”
John ended the call and turned to Sherlock.
“It’s Lestrade. He’s got something for you. An unexplained death on Campden Hill. Apparently a man died of carbon monoxide poisoning but there’s no traces of the stuff anywhere else in his flat. All the doors were locked, and there’s no sign of forced entry. Right up your alley I’d think.”
Sherlock thought for a moment, watching John’s reflection through the mirror above the hearth.
“Excellent. Watson, will you join me?”
“Of course, isn’t that what I do, join you on cases? Y/N, maybe you could spend the day with Mrs Hudson? I’m sure she’d be happy to show you about London.”
Y/N felt a bit disappointed as she realized the boys were about to leave. She was hoping for more time with Sherlock. He was positively captivating.
John was reaching for his jacket when Sherlock suddenly stopped him.
“Apologies John, I meant your sister.”
“Come again?” John deadpanned.
“Well, Lestrade obviously needs help, so I’ll put my best man on the case... you. I already have eight possible theories myself, I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Sherlock patted John on the shoulder, then took a step towards Y/N, smiling kindly. “Have you had any good chips lately? I know a little place where they’re prepared excellently. Would you care to join me?”
“I’d like that.” She said with a laugh. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” She whispered back to her brother, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek.
With that, Sherlock laced his arm with hers, and walked out the flat, boredom long forgotten. Finally, he had found something to truly captivate his attention.
John smiled and shook his head halfheartedly at the odd pair. Of course, he was a bit put off by Sherlock’s antics, but mostly, he was glad to see his friend and sister so blatantly content.
John was just about to head out himself when a sudden observation struck him. “He’s still in his nightclothes...” He said to himself amusedly.
It was clear that Y/N Watson would be staying in London for a long while.