When a vacancy opens for a decent flat in central London, and for such a good price, who are you to decline it?
While expecting a peaceful living arrangement to develop paintings for the gallery you work for, instead you're dragged into unexpected...
Clay dusted along Petri dishes, mixed and dissolved in chemicals. As tests run through machines, Sherlock stared down into the microscope. Slender fingers adjusting the knobs as eyes dart from left to right. The reflection of the lab light flickered it back and forth from a baby blue to forest green, however, his attention soon grew thin. Constant scratching of pen against a notepad Molly provided to you was all he could focus on.
"What are you doing?" he asks, looking up to see you focusing on the paper.
"I'm... drawing," your tone was dull but intently focused.
"Why? What are you drawing?" he pesters.
"I'm drawing because I'm bored, and I'm drawing... you!" holding up the notebook, amusement lined your lips. "Like it?"
"I look like a cartoon character," he deadpans at the caricature.
"Exactly," you note, flipping the pages to show a small animation of a beaker blowing up in his face; you swore he almost smiled. "So, what do we have so far, Mr Holmes?" jumping off the stool, you glance at the screen.
"Just let it run through the system a bit and we'll have a match,"
"And what about how they died?" You were still glancing at the screen, formulas and map references flickering by.
"You were at the scene, give it a go," he leans back just as Molly returned with the morgue reports. "Molly hand it over to Y/n,"
"Oh, right," placing them on the desk, just in front of you, Molly awkwardly gets back to her work on another counter top.
"Well, it says here there were no bruises, meaning they didn't put up a fight and... the bullet killed them both, same type of gun from the ballistics report," you point to it by Sherlock's side. "That's all, I think?"
"Come on, what else?" His eyes were staring intently.
"You're the smart one here, I just make cartoons of you,"
"There is a reason I asked you to come with me," he says, pushing the reports closer to you. "Try again,"
"Fine... but you're paying for dinner," sitting beside him, you flip through them a bit. Scanning, you see a chemical name that was running on one of the screens Sherlock had put to work. "Wait... that formula was there," it pops up again just as the results concluded. "So it was in the dirt,"
"Or...?"
"Or traces of it had fallen where they stepped!"
Sherlock smiled, "So?"
"So if it was in the dirt, and in their system... oh! The food market- they must have eaten something, right?... Maybe it was part of the reason they were there?" Something was missing, one unanswered question next to many: Why? "They were drugged, right? I mean, without a struggle they must have passed out and taken away. Not like the killer would do it in the middle of the market,"
"Very good," he hums, "see? You are smart,"
"You're getting better at the whole nice thing... can I?" pointing at the microscope, it was obvious you wanted to take a look.
"Thought you just made silly cartoons?"
"Hey! I never said 'silly'," you glare playfully as he pushes away his chair, standing so you could see. "It's all blurry,"
"Here," one hand places on your waist, moving to the small of your back as he adjusts how you were positioned in regards to the device. "If it's still blurry just... wait- didn't you do science in school?"
"I was an art kid, graduated with highest regards for my work... not little squiggly things in a glass plate,"
"Bacteria," he states, clicking his tongue with a grin. "This is fine focus, only use this one, not the bigger one which is coarse focus,"
"Oh, oh, oh! These other ones are stage knobs right? Ha! Guess I'm the genius,"
"They're actually stage controls, but who am I to correct you? You are the genius after all," his hand never moved from your back, holding there while he leaned to see the pure awe in your eyes. "You see the tinted blue-"
"Worms,"
"Bacteria," he sighs out, trying not to laugh. "Those are mainly found around the area of the market, and..." he moves the stage, "can you see any green?"
"Wait..." you adjust the fine focus, "the blobs?"
Sherlock sighs out, dropping his head, "yes, the blobs," he went on, "those organisms are specific to certain herbs which, if mixed with other components at a certain temperature..."
"Can act as a drug? Holy shit," you look to him with wide eyes, "that's kinda cool,"
"I'm glad you think so, John would tell me off by now," Sherlock realised where his hand still was, dropping it. "Hope you don't mind vegan food for dinner,"
"As long as I'm not getting drugged," you note. "Thanks for helping, Molly!"
"Yes, thank you," Sherlock adds when you nudge him, letting him out once he did.
"You're welcome..." she says awkwardly, looking around before getting back to work.
~~~
"No, because it does taste good, you're just weird," you dip the fries into the ice cream and hold them up. "Please?"
"Is this part of my manners lesson?"
"Oh yeah, liking this or at least trying to will be the peak of your redemption," you stop at the doorway, holding up the food combo.
"Could have just gone for fish and chips," he takes a swipe and bites down, the other hand helping place down groceries on the clear kitchen counter—well, as clear as possible. "I'm not admitting anything,"
"Aw, you don't want to be wrong, that's okay... not everyone is a genius like me," you place down the fast food as he glares. "Help me out," regret was evident when you grimace at the sight of more body parts in the fridge. "How about we put these in my fridge and tomorrow we clean this up a bit?" You weren't sure he'd agree but his nod made you smile, "I'll put on some music,"
Sherlock ignores your last few words, focusing only when footsteps scurry up immediately when the song started. "John, you're back early,"
~~~
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