Sherlock: One Shots & Headcanons

If BBC!Lock met ACD!Holmes: One Shot/Short Story

    Holmes = the original Sherlock Holmes from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

    Mr. Holmes/Sherlock = BBC's Sherlock H.

     Dr. Watson = the original Dr. John Watson written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

     The Second Dr. Watson/John = BBC's John (Jawn?)

      Mrs. Hudson = Sir ACD's Mrs. Hudson  

  Mr. Sherlock Holmes sat in his armchair, smoking a cigarette and staring into the fireplace. There was a slight yet annoying tension in the air - not the usual mix of excitement, happiness, boredom and dread that he felt when he was done solving an interesting case. Something was wrong. Something was odd. Something was going to go down in 221B Baker Street. 

    He tapped his foot against the ground & gritted his teeth. His last case had been quite thrilling - a double murder at a dinner party where only a thread of a red scarf was the clue that cracked the case wide open. Yet something -...just something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

   He tapped his long, slender fingers against the armrest. Where was Watson whenever he was wanted? Holmes began to formulate a lengthy,  epic speech to convey his feelings to Watson. 

   Bang! Holmes jumped. The cigarette fell out his mouth. 

   "Oh, pooh," he grumbled, snuffing it out then walked across the room and discarded the cigarette into the ashtray on the table. He turned his attention to the bookshelf, where a book had fallen - "Three Simple Steps to Surviving a Jump From a Waterfall: A Monograph by M. Sigerson". 

  "Hm?" He murmured scrunching his eyebrows together. A waxy green leaf peeped out of the empty space in the bookcase. His grey eyes squinted.

   "There seems to be a plant growing out of his cavity!" he cried, pulling out a leaf.

                                                                      ___________

    Dr. Watson was walking down Baker Street holding his leather medical bag in his left hand. His last patients were three pleasant old men named Brett, Burke, and Hardwicke respectively.

     The curtains of 221B were drawn, so Watson & all the other pedestrians on Baker Street weren't able to see the antics of that goose named Holmes. Still, Watson wondered what Holmes was up to. He pulled his keys out and unlocked door. There were no explosion sounds coming from the flat, so Holmes wasn't shooting the wall nor was he doing any weird experiments. Watson was always careful whenever he walked into their 221B, although he was never really surprised when Holmes was doing anything strange. 

     Watson trudged past "the rather cheap paintings plus the cracking and peeling beige wallpaper that hadn't been retouched since we moved in" - as Holmes would definitely have put it. Then he would chide Watson for not being observant. 

      The tumblers in the lock clicked once he inserted key. The door creaked open. Its hinges really needed a good oiling. 

      "Good afternoon, Holmes," 

       "Good afternoon, dear doctor," the man just shot him an absent glance.

       "Which book are you looking for?" Watson put down his medical bag and headed toward his friend, who was crouching down, intently inspecting something.

        "I am searching for a lemon tree," replied Holmes.

         "A lemon tree?" Watson was trying to make sense of this, "As in a book about lemon trees?"