The Improbable Case

Sherlock

Baker Street 221 b

"Jawn," Sherlock Holmes whined impatiently, "None of these morons have a real case for me." The tall man fell unceremoniously into his chair and closed his eyes. Rubbing his temples in exasperation he tried to keep from losing his mind.

"Yes I know." Dr. John Watson replied with a sigh. He could hear the subtext screaming 'punch me in the face'. Every time the Consulting Detective opened his mouth, John imagined those words. Some days he didn't have to imagine them because they were just their on dancing on those palid lips.

It was one of those days, had been all week actually. Every person with a sob story came crying to them and really, it was sad how many people thought Sherlock would solve pathetic things that weren't worth their time.

Even John knew most of these would-be clients were ridiculous for even imagining their problem was worth Sherlock's time. And yet they came in droves just to ask the famous deducer of mysteries for help.

John often felt sorry that they were foolish enough to come to their door only to have the man they sought belittle them mercilessly. Somehow Moriarty killing people made Sherlock upset, but reviling them for being simple minded was nothing to him.

Time passed with only a few deflated sighs and the ticking of the clock. Waiting was perhaps the hardest part of this work. John didn't understand what his purpose was, Sherlock seemed to do just fine on his own. And yet somehow he dragged the former soldier around on wild and amazing adventures.

Truth be told, Dr. Watson felt important when he was asked to talk to someone or go look into something for his friend. Until he was proven hopelessly wrong or used as a means to discover the real solution. In a few instances the doctor had been a guinea pig for Sherlock's experiments.

A knock at the door and then Mrs. Hudson smiled from behind it. "Got another one for you boys." She said pushing it open all the way and allowing a blond woman to enter.

The first thing both men realized was that she was not like the others. She looked more curious than worried. Her eyes were bright and eager with no signs of tragedy or heartbreak.

"Have a seat." John forced a tired smile befor gesturing to the empty couch and it began again.

"Thank you." She inclined her head politely and smiled at the two. Her brown eyes shone with promise and John wondered if perhaps this was finally a case, though she displayed little sign of distress. Instead she looked quite excited.

Please don't be a journalist. John thought. They got enough of the press already and he wasn't in the mood for an interview and he knew Sherlock wasn't either.

"Well?" Sherlock had no patience whatsoever. He turned his cold gaze on the young lady and raised an eyebrow. So far she was mildly interesting with her uncharacteristic smile and relaxed posture. But that didn't mean she brought a mystery worthy of his mind.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you both. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Rose Tyler by the way." She introduced herself with a rather chipper note in her voice.

"Get on with it."

"Sherlock," John hissed. Irritating was only a drop in the bucket of descriptions applicable to the arrogant detective. He could think of several dozen more right now and it still wouldn't cover all of Sherlock's flaws.

"I came to ask for your help on behalf of a friend." Rose replied simply. She seemed unphased by the man's tepid tone. In fact she looked like she had been expecting it. Maybe she had been warned by someone else that the great Detective Holmes had a penchant for being inexcusably rude to his clients.