Sherlock One-Shots

You lower the IQ of the entirety of London pt1

Warnings: Cannon-Typical gore/violence (murder crime scene)

It had started with a look, a sort of questioning glance from Greg when he held Sherlock's hand that made John question if he knew. Then, it was a look of shock on Donovan's face when he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek or vice-versa. Finally, it was the look of pure and utter horror on Anderson's face when Sherlock had excitedly pressed a kiss to John's lips after discovering who the murderer of a particular case was before rushing off to catch a cab. Now, at first, John had suspected that they were all still getting to their new, more public displays of affection, however now as he sat in his chair, the nagging suspicion that it was more than that just wouldn't go away.

John sighed and set the newspaper down in his lap, looking up at his partner. "Sherlock?" He questioned, earning an occupied "Hm?" from the detective who was currently sitting at the kitchen table, looking at some specimen under the microscope out of boredom. "Did we ever tell the yard that we had gotten together, right? and that we're married?" John asked, the detective now lifting his head to think for a moment before bringing his attention back to the microscope, answering in a bored expression. "No, we didn't. We only informed Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson, as we had to have witnesses. Though I thought that by now they may have already figured it out." He said. "Well, they haven't." John chuckled. "No? What makes you say that?" Sherlock questioned as he switched out the slide under the lens for a different one, moving his hands to adjust the focus. 

"Well, every time we've shown any sort of affection whatsoever while on a scene, everyone always looks more confused or scared than disgusted; granted, we don't exactly show very much affection anyways." John hummed, tilting his head slightly in thoughtfulness. "Well, should we tell them?" Holmes questioned. "No, I believe we should just aid them in figuring out. Think of it as a social experiment." Watson responded with a challenging tone, catching his husband's attention. "How?" asked Sherlock, intrigued. "Well, we can start by showing our rings more often. I wear mine on my dog tags, and you've got yours on a chain around your neck, so perhaps having the chains visible instead of tucked away may help?" John pondered. "or we could hold hands more often when arriving or leaving the scene, and if that doesn't work, more kisses." He finished, earning a slow nod from Sherlock.

"Sounds like a good plan. When shall we start?" Holmes asked. "As soon as we have a case," John said, his eyes widening as Sherlock's phone pinged to let him know that he had just received a message. "Man named Alexander O'Hare found dead, stabbed 28 times in the chest. No DNA was found on the scene from the killer, not even footprints." Lestrade had messaged, serving enough motivation to make Sherlock grin as he read it aloud. John simply hummed and checked his watch. "Well, Rosie is with Molly until 3 pm tomorrow... I have time." Watson hummed, walking to the door and grabbing his coat. Sherlock jumped up, following after him and grabbing his own coat before rushing out of the flat to hail a cab for them. 

The two arrived on the scene only a few minutes later, their hands firmly clasped together as they walked under the tape. "Sherlock! Glad you could make it. The body is over here, you have three minutes." Lestrade greeted, eyeing their intertwined hands with puzzlement, but didn't say anything about it as he turned and led them further onto the scene. Just as he had forewarned, Lestrade led them towards the body of a man with blood pooling around him. "Christ..." John muttered, frowning as they looked at the body. Sherlock frowned, letting go of John's hand as he crouched down to examine the cadaver. "Okay, Sherlock. Give us what you got." Lestrade said after a few minutes. Sherlock stood up and straightened his posture as he flipped his coat collar up.

"Alexander here was on his way to the train station with his wife when she pulled a letter opener on him; letter opener because of how long yet oddly shaped marks. I know it was his wife because his wedding ring-" He paused, pulling the chain around his neck out of his shirt to show Lestrade the ring, "-is missing and the pictures in his wallet; I know he was wearing a ring because there's still an indent on his finger from where it usually is I also know it was a wedding ring because of the wedding photo in his wallet of him and his wife on their wedding day. She was with him for the money, but she got tired of him after marriage and thought she could just mooch off his parents and sell the wedding ring." Sherlock said finally, frowning as he saw that Greg hadn't so much as glanced at the ring that was hanging from the consulting detective's neck.

"She stabbed him with a letter opener and fled with all the cash in his wallet; but she's smart, she left all his cards on his person so that we couldn't track her, but she's also incredibly stupid for not thinking about the photos or his train ticket. She's currently on the train on her way to his parent's place, the easiest way out of London at the moment. She's no doubt carrying two suitcases as she can sell his valuables, and I know that they're a fortunate family thanks to the first-class tickets, the type of cards he has, and where exactly his wife is heading to; Winchester." The detective said, standing up and righting his posture. "Now that this is sorted, thank you for wasting my time, as this was hardly a level two. I bet Donovan could have done it herself." Sherlock huffed, unimpressed.

"How do you know for sure it was his wife?" Lestrade questioned, making Sherlock roll his eyes. "He smells like perfume, he has lipstick all over his face and neck, and the tickets are heading to Winchester I know his parents live in Winchester because of the photograph in. his. wallet. So it was either his wife or his mistress, but who brings their mistress to meet their parents? No one. Also, there IS DNA here on the scene, he had ginger hairs all over him. The woman in his wedding photo has ginger hair. It was his wife. Call or text me if you find proof that it wasn't." Sherlock huffed, taking hold of John's hand. "Let's go home..." He muttered in disappointment. John squeezed Sherlock's hand reassuringly as he kissed his cheek, trying to cheer him up a little. 

As Sherlock hailed a cab, Lestrade walked over and tapped John on the shoulder. "Hey, if you're free next Saturday, I have a friend who's interested in you," Lestrade said. "I can even watch Rosie if you want me to." He said, smirking. John frowned, licking his lips as he squinted in confusion. "You-" John shook his head and sighed, glancing at Sherlock apologetically. "No, Greg, I'm already seeing someone," John said, annoyed. "Oh, well, that's great! Who is it?" Greg asked, smiling. "If you haven't figured it out, then you don't need to know." He scoffed, making John frown as he and Sherlock finally got a cab and slipped inside. The car ride was silent, but it wasn't uncomfortable. As soon as they were home, they hung up and John headed to the kitchen to make some tea.

Once the tea was prepared, John sat on the sofa and poured both him and Sherlock a cuppa, chuckling as Holmes practically threw himself on the couch and wrapped his arms around John's waist. "Bored!" He shouted in irritation. "Yes, yes, I know. Now drink your tea." John said, handing Sherlock his cup. Holmes simply placed it back down, hiding his face against Watson's side. The blogger and the detective relaxed like that for a while, Watson occasionally running his fingers through his husband's curly hair as he sipped on his tea. It was unusually quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It was nice to finally relax together, as most of the time they were either taking care of Rosie or working on a case, which meant the two didn't have much time to just relax together.

Speaking of not having much time, it was barely an hour later when Lestrade was rushing into their flat, panicked. "Alexander just got divorced a few days ago! It was a mistress that he was taking with him!" Lestrade shouted, making the detective perk up a little, but not enough to make him actually move. "Where's the wife, where's the mistress?" Holmes asked. "Mistress was also found dead, on the train... but so was the wife. We tracked the man's incomes and he was apparently only buying things for the two of them, so there doesn't seem to be any third mistress. According to Alexander's bosses and co-workers, everyone adored him. None of the wife, mistress or man's possessions were found, and the rings were gone as well." Greg said, smirking. Sherlock sat up, the wheels in his head turning. "Triple homicide, no leads to the actual killer... Brilliant! Absolutely bloody brilliant!" He cheered, jumping up and rushing to get his coat on.

"Come along, dear! We've got a case!" Holmes yelled as he wrapped his scarf around his neck and rushed out, leaving John to sigh and stand up, giving Lestrade a look as though he was expecting him to say something, but the detective inspector just stood there once again looking uncertain about their behaviour. John groaned, shaking his head and followed after Sherlock, getting into the cab that his husband had already hailed.