Hello Cousin (A ELEMENTARY/BBC SHERLOCK CROSSOVER)

Chapter 1: Two Men, One Name.

"WATSON!"  Sherlock yelled.  "Would you come here, for a moment?" He asked his business partner and flatmate, all the while not taking his eyes off his mobile. 

"Okay, Sherlock, what is it that has screaming at the top of your lungs at two o'clock in the morning? You're lucky that none of our neighbors decided to call the cops on you for noise pollution." Joan told the detective.

"Really Watson, there's no need to be so melodramatic, it's the day after Saint Patrick's Day and I seriously doubt that our neighbors care not one wit about my actions since they are without a doubt in the Land of Nod."

Joan just rolled her eyes. "Will you please, just tell me what's got you so excited that you had to shout my name or do I have to guess?" Sherlock sighed. "My cousin is coming to visit." He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds then released it, all the time waiting for her reaction. Joan blinked; she didn't know what to say except;  "What's his name?"

"William Scott Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied. She chuckled. "Watson, it's a family name please don't laugh. Would I laugh at you, if you were named after your mother or grandmother, or an aunt even?" He demanded.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," Joan replied, "but how did this happen? Two men in a family having the same exact first and last name?"

Now it was Holmes' turn to roll his eyes.

"Really Watson, do you find it so strange for a family to have a common name for boys in said family?"

"Not between father and son, no." Joan agreed. "But between cousins? Yeah, I have to admit it is a bit unusual."

"I blame my mother and aunt for the whole sordid mess." Sherlock informed Joan. To his dismay his flatmate started to laugh.  "Honestly, Watson it isn't that funny!" Sherlock complained. 

 Joan grinned. "Oh, yes it is. Admit it, you're sulking because you're not the only genius in your family." Joan told him.

Sherlock scowled.  "When is he suppose to arrive and in which airport?" Joan asked. 

"Flight 778 from Heathrow to Laguardia International," Sherlock read from his mobile, "should arrive at Laguardia sometime around 9 pm. E.T."

"Hmm... I take it that this is not a commercial flight then?" Joan commented. Sherlock chuckled. 

"Yeah, well, I imagine that Mycroft had something to do with that." Noticing  the look of confusion on Joan's face, Sherlock went on to explain:  "My other cousin, Mycroft. Not to be confused with that sheep in wolf's clothing that is my brother." 

"You weren't joking about the whole family name thing, were you?" Joan asks. Sherlock grins and gets up to grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen. "Do you want anything?" He asks.

"I'm good, thanks." Joan tells Sherlock. "Do you wan me to get anything special for dinner?"

"Actually I was thinking we could go to Pepoino's after we pick up my cousin from the airport," said Sherlock.  "If that's all right with you?" 

"Sure, that's fine." Joan replied. She checked her watch. "It's 2:14 am. Do you want to call a cab for the airport? Or should I later on?"

"I can do it Watson, don't worry. Besides, I was about to text Scott and ask him which terminal his plane will be on." Sherlock replied.

"In that case," said Joan, "I'm going upstairs and change."

"Why?" asks Sherlock. "You look fine." Joan smiled. 

"Thank you, Sherlock that's so sweet of you. But since this is the first time I've met your cousin and I want to make a good impression."

"Watson, while I appreciate the effort it is really not necessary," Sherlock told her.

"I know, Sherlock but still..." Joan left the rest unsaid.

The detective held up his hands in defeat. "Say no more Watson, you have made your point. Now, isn't it time we got this day started don't you think?" Joan replied by going upstairs and heading straight for the shower.

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For Sherlock Holmes late of 221 B. Baker Street, London, England the flight to New York seemed to take forever. Sighing, he turned to his handler and asked: 

"Davidson, is it safe to use my mobile?"

"I'm not sure sir," Davidson replied. "Let me ask the pilot."'

Holmes nodded in agreement and waited. A moment later Davidson returned and informed his charge that yes, he could use his mobile.

"Now, Mr Holmes to whom do you wish to call?"

Holmes considered calling John but quickly dismissed the idea. He knew that John would be fine with Mary and their little girl.  No.  Holmes thought. It isn't John that I want, no, need to talk to.  It was Molly Hooper.

But would she want to speak to him? Now that was the Million Dollar question, as the Yanks were so fond of saying, and Holmes very much doubted that she would, especially if Tom was still in the picture.

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Holmes asked himself.  Quickly before he lost his nerve, he dialed Molly's mobile. It rang at least four times before a tired female voice answered: "This is Molly Hooper, pathologist at Saint Bartholomew's speaking, how many I help you?"

Holmes chuckled. "Really Molly, is old Kendrick making you say all of that, even on your mobile?"

"Sherlock!" Molly squealed. "I thought you were in Afghanistan, that's what John told me anyway, well, after I kept pestering him." She grinned.

Sherlock smiled. "It's good to know that you're checking up on me, Molly. But no, there's been a slight change in plains, I'm not Afghanistan. I'm going to see my cousin Billy, he lives in New York. So how are things with...Tom?"