Sherlock clapped Charlie on the back, just hard enough to almost knock him out of the chair. Turning to John on the computer, Sherlock breathed in disgust, “I don’t like him. He’s annoying.”
Ignoring his friend’s complaint, John said through his propped hand, “Apparently Professor Garner has resigned from his teaching position at Cambridge—,”John looked over at Charlie, pointing to the screen. “Did someone mention you went to Cambridge?”
Sherlock raised his hands. “Didn’t know you could hear us outside the door.”
“Of course, I could. I was shamelessly eavesdropping,” John said candidly. He flashed Sherlock a boastful smile before returning to the screen.
“It also says that the professor has resided in his cottage just east of the Thames. I’m sure we can find him there, right?” John swiveled all the way around in his chair, almost tumbling out if he hadn’t caught himself on the window sill behind him.
Pulsing with thought, breathing heavily with ideas, Sherlock looped around the room in wide circles that never broke from the imaginary trail he had created. Once in awhile, the detective would tug at his bottom lip and then toss his hand to the side, discarding an idea. His other arm would be tucked underneath his active arm, occasionally wiggling the fingers in rapid thinking.
“Should I be leaving then?” Charlie asked before Sherlock snapped in his face.
“You’re staying here until I say you can leave. Don’t want you romping around like the infectious parasite you are!” Sherlock snorted an insult directed at Charlie while looking at John for agreement.
John didn’t indulge Sherlock’s immature manners and went straight to conversing with Charlie in a more humane manner. “Sherlock probably wants to run blood tests and stuff down at the lab, that is, only if you approve of it.”
Throwing his shoulders back in protest and staring at the two detectives in disbelief, Charlie declared in his tight British accent, “I say I won’t approve of anything! I’m going to go now—think I’ve had enough of this!” Charlie threw himself from the chair and ran from the door before Sherlock shouted after him.
“You’ll bleed to death.”
Moving only his eyes towards Sherlock’s voice, Charlie shivered. “I’ll what? Bleed to death?”
Chuckling, Sherlock said in a boastful voice, “Obviously! You’ve got a clot that’s constantly breaking and doesn’t have time to heal between nosebleeds. You’re probably terribly dry, despite the two glasses of water you’ve had recently, so, your chance of recovering from a purging stream of blood will be impossible without getting you to a hospital. Also, the chemical your father gave you to keep you immune to the poison inside of your blood stream is breaking down. Soon, you’ll become toxic, die, and spread the disease.”
By the end of the one-sided conversation, Sherlock was standing right in front of Charlie, seething this hatred on the young man that resembled much like a dragon’s—that is, if one knew how a dragon breathed when it was angry. Nevertheless, Sherlock impersonated one quite well; his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed, and his lips quivered.
Noticing his partner’s strange behavior, John came up behind him and pulled him aside. “Sherlock, are you all right? You’re staring him as if you’re going to kill him or something, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know…he’s just really annoying!”
“He hasn’t done anything to you!” John squeaked. “If anything, he’s given you a case! Why don’t you like him?”
“And you do?” Sherlock retorted, feeling already betrayed.
“Come off it, I can’t hate your guest. Just pretend he’s me or something and just treat him with some dignity. He’s just looking for a place to stay and then we’ll take him to his father, and then end of story.”
Sherlock thrust a nail between his teeth and chewed it viciously. “Why can’t he stay with you and Alana?”
“Because Alana and I want sometime alone, especially since our date consisted of her bandaging up my cut. Please, do me a favour and just tolerate him!” John shoved passed Sherlock and searched for Alana, who was found napping in the upstairs bedroom.
Sighing, Sherlock faced Charlie and made a face of disappointment. “God, well, rules. No talking, touching, teasing, or tellie—not while I’m working, and I work all the time.”
Charlie dropped his arms to his side and squinted one eye. His boyish smile lifted in astonishment at his host’s nursery rhythm rules. “All right, fair enough. I’ve got rules, too.” He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in slight defiance.
Sherlock tilted his head and scoffed. “Really?”
“Yes. Anything related to me, or my father, I have all the say in it. Whatever you do to me, I make the decisions. If I have a nosebleed or whatever, you are responsible for the consequences if you don’t help me. I am allowed to use the phone here as well as my mobile without you harassing me or limiting my time. And lastly, I’ll pay you for housing and food if you treat me with respect and not treat me like I don’t know anything. Simple?”
The detective remained silent. He wanted to smile at the boy’s brazen courage to speak against him, but he didn’t want to show any sign of admiration towards him. Staring at the well-built young man, Sherlock saw many uses such as running errands, rigging equipment, setting up traps, and anything he had made John do. Sherlock began seeing something else that made him overlook the younger man’s age—he saw himself.
“Are we good then?” Charlie asked, palms turning out in wonderment.
“Right, whatever, I agree. But before we go our separate ways, I would like to get my hands on one of these monsters.” Sherlock walked up to Charlie, still chewing his nail. “John’s volunteered to be bait, I just need another pair of hands, you mind?”
“I’m sorry, I thought I was annoying?”
“Oh, not if you’re able to save my life and my friend’s by keeping watch and whatever other orders I give you—that you agree to, of course.” Sherlock gave him a cheeky raise of an eyebrow. “Don’t say, ‘no.’”
Smirking back, Charlie said, “I wasn’t going to.”
YOU ARE READING
Cauldron-Born [SHERLOCK FANFIC]
FanfictionSherlock Holmes and John Watson come across a rather dangerous case involving an army of flesh-eating humans. Whether they've been created by a dark enchantment or a mysterious chemical, Sherlock must find the source before London is literally eaten...