Work Text:
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, John?"
"Have you been altering my writing at all?"
"I wouldn't rewrite your work," Sherlock said loftily. "At least, not beyond making a few essential recommendations for improvement. Why?"
"Because someone has come along and changed about a dozen of my commas into semicolons, that's why." John was leafing through a stack of draft printouts, oddly marked with red ink annotations in a strange hand.
Both men whirled around at the sound of a muffled giggle from behind the couch, Sherlock snatching up a golf club (number 3 wood) in a defensive reflex.
"Don't mind us," came a cheerful voice, as two women rose up into view from their concealed position, kneeling on the floor. "She just has a 'thing' about semicolons," said the redhead, indicating her companion. "I'm Haldane, she's Lisa."
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, ever the quicker to recover from a surprise.
"Writing. Well, I'm writing, Lisa's my proofreader and grammar Nazi. And before you ask, I'm writing about you."
"Me?" and at the sound of a meaningful cough from John, "I mean, us?"
"Yep. You're fictional characters, so I can write pretty much anything I want, although I do like to stay inside the lines set down by your original creator."
Lisa nudged her in the ribs. "Give them an example, it'll be faster."
"Okay." Haldane pulled out a laptop, rested it on the back of the settee, then flipped it open and began typing, the quick clicking sounding distinctly in the otherwise silent apartment.
Lisa watched proceedings for a moment, then started giggling again. Haldane merely pointed at John's jumper, which had inexplicably turned bright pink with a pattern of blue gambolling kittens. "If I describe what you're wearing, then you are wearing it, until I write something else. If I was to add, say, a hat to your head..."
A few clicks on the keyboard, and Sherlock's head was now topped with a stylish black fedora.
"I have to believe you," Sherlock said, his voice a little strained and his eyes wide. "Since I am seeing the effects for myself. So, why are you here?"
"We're going to have sex with you, since sex in a fantasy universe is always perfect. No flatulence, no having your hair knelt on, no lack of ability, or imagination, no STDs. And no making an offer to have the response be simply 'no', which I personally have had happen in real life."
Sherlock and John looked at each other, and then back at the two women. "No."
Lisa nudged Haldane again. "They're still gay."
"Alright! I'll fix it with a 'but', as in 'Normally they only had eyes for each other - " the two men turned to gaze into each other's eyes, faces set in identical adoring expressions, " - but, this time, they found their visitors strangely attractive.' "
Sherlock and John continued to look only at each other. Lisa pointed at a particular spot on the screen. "You want 'but' with one 't', not 'butt' with two 't's."
"Sorry. I'm a bit distracted right now." A single click, and the men instantly regarded their visitors with rapt attention.
"Sherlock, these women are very attractive."
"Yes, John, strangely so."
Lisa crowed in triumph. "Good thing you have me along! It seems that only grammatical sentences work."
"Okay, I admit it. Now, before I put this thing on standby - how many inches do you want yours to have?"