Sherlock One Shots

The Lone Biker

"Well that was fun," John quipped as he and Sherlock crossed over the threshold into 221B. He was being completely facetious, of course, as they had just returned from the most strenuously exhausting case John had ever helped Sherlock with. They'd had to scale buildings, outrun cars, and even swim upstream in the River Themes at one point, though that had only been briefly.

John didn't care about all that, though; he was just glad to finally be back home, and to finally have some time to rest. Nowadays it seemed that Sherlock stayed busy day and night working on cases, as his popularity had swelled immensely in the last year or so. It seemed they couldn't get through one day without someone knocking at their door in need of Sherlock's assistance. In fact, while they were working on their last case someone had attempted to solicitate Sherlock's services to clear his name of some ridiculous crime John didn't care enough about to remember. All he remembered was that the man's name was Vinny Harding.

"I think I'll have a quick shower, then maybe some tea," he said as he removed his coat and placed it on the back of his armchair. Sherlock merely hummed in response, having taken up his usual thinking position on the sofa, fingers steepled and resting beneath his nose.

When John came back downstairs, dressed in nothing but his blue bathrobe and socks, he expected to find Sherlock in the exact same position he was in when he'd left. However, when John strolled into the sitting room he found Sherlock sitting in his armchair, and a gorgeous young woman sitting across from him. She had bright, almond shaped blue eyes and a small rounded nose lightly dusted with freckles. Some of her auburn coloured hair fell over her shoulders as she sat forward in her seat, and the rest of it cascaded down her back in loose waves. She was dressed in all leather, right down to her mid-calf boots. John stopped dead in his tracks and glanced back and forth between them briefly, unsure of what to say or do. Sherlock was the first to speak.

"John, this is Amethyst Clarke."

The young woman gave John a friendly smile and a wave, to which John responded by tightening the belt of his bathrobe.

"Nice to meet you," he said after clearing his throat. "I'm going to go put some clothes on."

When John returned downstairs Amethyst was describing her predicament to Sherlock in great detail. Apparently some man on a motorcycle had been stalking her for the past two weeks, and she was asking Sherlock to help her in figuring out who it was. John didn't understand why Sherlock was even listening to her case; it was a simple stalker, nothing like the things Sherlock usually paid attention to. Perhaps he was just being polite, John told himself as he took a seat in his armchair to listen to the rest of Amethyst's story.

She explained that every Saturday morning she rides her bike into town to visit her family, as she works at a boarding school for the musically gifted, and stays there during the week, returning home on Fridays and traveling back on Sunday. One glance in Sherlock's direction and John could tell he had already deduced all of this, but had said nothing. Instead he sat quietly and listened to how the strange man on a black bike would follow her for a small stretch of road, spanning from a biker bar in the country down to Farnham Village, a small community she passes on her way home each weekend.

He seemed to be a middle aged man, she said, with a shiny black helmet that concealed his face, and he always stayed just far enough behind her so she could not see him clearly, yet close enough that she was aware of his presence at all times. He always appeared right after she passed the bar, and was always gone by the time she reached Farnham Village.

"I have several questions, Miss Clarke,"

"Call me Amethyst, please." Sherlock sighed, but gave a tight lipped smile and continued.