Sherlock was throwing lawn darts at a painting of Mycroft when John came running in. "Sherlock!" he said, exasperated. "Mrs. Hudson said we're expecting visitors. Americans, from a police department in Santa Barbara, California. Clean up your messes!"
"Ew," Sherlock said. "Americans make me gag. And I will not clean up my projects for American visitors. This is my flat, Jawn," he stated flatly. Mrs. Hudson stomped in.
"Sherlock, you will clean up, because some of your experiments are a little too gruesome for our guests. Get a move on, Sherlock! I'm not your housekeeper!"
Sherlock groaned. He had never said no to Mrs. Hudson. With John's help, he had the place clean by the time there was a knock at the door. A man with hair that looked like it had been made out of plastic in a factory back when...that...hairstyle had been in style. He had his gun cocked.
"Don't talk, Brits," he scoffed. A blond female detective came in and slapped him. He put his gun away.
The female detective smiled. "I'm sorry about my partner. He's a little...trigger happy," she apologized. Sherlock rolled his eyes. John nodded and went to shake her hand.
"I'm Dr. John Watson," he introduced. "And you are...?"
The detective smiled. "I'm Juliet O'Hara from the SBPD in California in the States," she said. Just then, two men scarfing down fish and chips from a white and red checkered paper box came in.
"Gus," the one with hair said, "I think this is the best day of my life. I'm in England, in a flat, eating fish and chips with my best friend. This is on my bucket list."
"Shawn," Gus said, "the English are staring."
John made his way to them. "Hello, gents!"
Shawn gasped. "He called us gents," he whispered.
"I'm Dr. John Watson, who might you be?"
Shawn grinned and shook John's hand heartily. He faked a British accent. "Hullo, Dr. Jawn Watson. I'm psychic detective Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, David Tennant."
"Knock it off, Shawn," Gus elbowed him. "Hi, my name is Burton Guster. I hear you're a doctor? I sell pharmaceuticals. Here's my card-"
"Forgive Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster," Juliet said. "They're still a bit...behind in mental maturity."
Shawn and Gus were distorting their facial expressions in the corner, trying to get Sherlock's scowl. She rolled her eyes. "So, you must be Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I read your blog."
"It's his blog," he said monotonously, obviously unimpressed, and pointing to John.
"Oh..kay then," Juliet said.
"Of course it is. You should always delegate to the lowerclassmen in the organization. For example, I always allow Gus to package our own brand of Psych peanuts, which we ship weekly to France. They love us, and they think my name is Jimmy Kimmel Live," Shawn gabbed. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Europe is not as impudent as Americans are," he said. Shawn scoffed.
"Not even in the proximity, my acquaintance," he retorted, trying to sound intelligent. "Impudence is hardly present in Santa Barbara. It takes me a week to eat a bag of potato chips," he admitted. Gus elbowed him.
"Shawn, that's imprudence," he said.
"Oh," Shawn said. Gus shrugged. "So, Jules, what are we gonna do now? Dylan Dooley is on the loose."
YOU ARE READING
BORED (a BBC Sherlock and Psych fan fiction)
Fanfiction"BORED!" Sherlock yelled as he chucked Shawn's last pineapple at the wall. John and Gus giggled. ^^^^^^^^^^ Need I say more about this crossover? :)
