Wholock

A Study in Nicotine

Sherlock groaned in frustration.

"How can that be?" He yelled. "They should be DEAD!"

John looked scared and shocked at that. I mean who would like to hear that their friends "should be dead"?

"Sherlock," I said approaching him. "Calm down. You'll figure it out."

"John. Do NOT tell me to calm down!" Sherlock shouted. He is sort of like the Hulk. No one likes him when he's angry. "I need a smoke."

"Sherlock. No you don't. You have been clean for this long. Don't ruin it."

He, of course, ignored me. Sherlock quickly left the room throwing on his coat. This is just one more example on how Sherlock is an ass.

Molly looked worriedly after him. So did the other John. I was furious.

"Thank you for your help, Molly," I said. "Come on Mr. Smith. We have a sociopath to catch."

"Good day Miss Molly," John said, shaking her hand. He was really smooth. Molly blushed.

"Have a nice day Mr. Smith," Molly told him. Wow. The tension in the air. You could cut it with a butter knife. I ignored it though. I was still pissed off about Sherlock.

I grabbed my coat and thew it on. John saw that and quickly put his tweed jacket on. Seriously, this man dressed like an 80 year old.

"Geronimo," John said as we were leaving. What is up with this guy?

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," I said, hurrying out the door. We had to find Sherlock before he did anything stupid, like start smoking again.

"Wait, hold on," I said to John. "I just remembered. Mrs. Hudson and I hid all of his cigarettes. He's going to be at our flat looking for them."

"Then we should go to your flat," John told me while hailing a cab. "I really want to find my friends."

"Of course you do. Sorry for, well, him."

"It's not your fault Dr. Watson."

We got into the cab and went straight to 221B after that. I ran out of the cab while John paid the man.

When I got up to our flat, the place was turned upside down. The chairs were flipped, his skull on the floor, all the cabinets open and Sherlock was lying on the couch with his back to me.

John then came up the stairs and stopped abruptly at the door. He gaped at the mess while I straightened the chairs up.

"Sherlock! Get up and help me clean up this place!" I shouted at him. "It is a bloody mess!"

Sherlock said nothing but rolled over to get up. He walked over the coffee table and picked up his skull.

"That's a skull...," John said, pointing at it.

"Good job, Mr. Smith. Any further deductions?" Sherlock said putting the skull on the mantle.

"Sherlock. Don't be rude to clients," I told him while closing the cabinets and cleaning the kitchen.

I turned around to look at him and saw something on his wrist. I walked over to him and pulled up his sleeve. Nicotine patches. Not one. Not two. But four. Four bloody nicotine patches.

Sherlock pulled his sleeve back down and sat in his chair.

"Why the hell do you have four patches on?" I shouted at him. John still stood awkwardly at the doorway.

"Four patch problem," Sherlock told me passively. I could just kill this man.

"Sher-Sherlock! Four bloody patches is a lot!"

"It would take 35 to kill me in an hour John," he told me and turned to the door. "Other John! Hello. I have been thinking about your friends. If they weren't in the morgue, they're still out there." He bloody changed the subject!

"Well yes. That's how I think it works," John said with a smile.

"Of course," Sherlock said, getting up. He put on his coat and tied his scarf. "Come on Johns, the game is on."

"Sherlock! Take off the damn patches or I'm not leaving!" I shouted after him.

"Fine. I'll get Molly to come," Sherlock called back. Mr. Smith looked awkward and then followed him.

I heard the door close and was pissed. He seriously left without me and with four patches on.

"Everything all right up there?" I heard coming from down stairs.

"Yup. Everything is fine Mrs. Hudson," I told her.

"Having a bit of a domestic?"

I decided to ignore the fact that she just suggested Sherlock and I are a couple. We aren't. Of course not. I'm not actually gay.