Distasteful Profession

Frauds and killers.

"London Police! Open up! We know you're in there, Sherlock!"

A strong voice abruptly sounded from the doorway. Banging also was apparent. "John," Sherlock's gruff, tired, low voice was forced out of his throat.

The door crashed to the ground.

John groaned as he blinked himself awake slowly. "People are here," Sherlock said.

Greg looked at Rosie, his eyes wide, as he matched the yellow, spray painted a smile on the wall and the red one carved into the child's otherwise perfect skin on her neck. "Oh, God, a kid?!" He loudly whispered. His eyebrows furrowed. He ordered someone else to look at the child as he held his gun up as he turned to an empty kitchen. "Clear,"

"Tell them to go away," John groaned as he rolled over and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and entangled their legs. "I'm still sleeping."

Greg looked up and to the right. He heard voices, more than one, not just Sherlock's. He slowly stepped, laying his feet down with a careful precision, not trying to be loud. He slowly approached the door.

"John, please, they've come to take me away," Sherlock said. A lower voice yawned, then groaned as he said, gruffly, "I won't let them," 'It's a man?!' Greg thought, 'Sherlock's in his room with a man?' He quickly banged on the door. "Sherlock, come out, hands where I can see 'em!" He shouted.

"Lestrade," Sherlock shouted through the door, "Go away!" Greg sighed, then raised his gun as he took a few steps back.

That door went, too.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you are put under arrest for Capital murder to the first degree, the Kidnapping and harm of a miner, and holding..." Greg started, but once John quickly sat up, wide-eyed and red-faced, Greg furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he tried to connect the dots.

"Lestrade?!" John shouted as he sat up so quickly if he weren't so embarrassed, he'd've been dizzy. There was an awkward silence between the three men. "Wait, did you say 'Kidnapping'?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence. John's eyes widened. He jumped out of bed and ran out of the bedroom shouting, "Rosie!"

"When did... th-this... happen?" Greg asked gesturing to the bed. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We didn't have sex, Lestrade, but I can assure you that he's my partner, not yours. No need to get jealous over someone who doesn't even know you appreciate him." He said blatantly as he removed the sheets to get out of bed.

John rushed to the common room. "Where is She?!" He asked someone. His hair was somewhat dishevelled and his voice was gruff. Everyone could tell he had just woken up. "Watson?!" A familiar voice asked from in the kitchen. "Oh, God! This is too good!" He shouted as he bellowed over in laughter. "Serg.! Watson slept with the Freak!" Donavan began to laugh as well. John walked over and cornered Anderson. John picked him up by his bright blue stub outfit. He pinned him against the wall right beside the microwave. "Tell me where my bloody daughter is, or I swear to you, Anderson, you will definitely not be laughing when you're in the hospital."

"Shit! That was your daughter?!" Anderson asked, before groaning as John shook him once, hitting his head against the wall. "Ugh! Downstairs! The housekeeper has her. She's being questioned," Anderson said. John let go of him and ran down the stairs. He sharply turned to the left and almost burst through the door, he was so worried. "Mrs Hudson! Where's-" John started, but cut himself off as he saw a man in a suit holding his daughter. "Rosie!"

"How do you know it's me? Because I'm off-putting and nobody likes me?" Sherlock asked, brushing his curly hair. "We have pictures, surveillance videos, evidence, Sherlock. I didn't believe it at first, but it's all there." Greg explained, waiting. "And, What about 'my victim'; what did he do?" Sherlock asked, using air quotations for a brief moment before beginning to brush his teeth. "So, what? After you arrest me, put me away, you're going to try to get John to notice you?" Sherlock asked, leaning over the sink to spit the toothpaste out and rinse his mouth with water. "I never said that!" Greg shouted. "No, but you thought it. You think about it quite often. Every time you see him, I am around him, he pays attention to me instead of you. How do we know that you're not just framing me?" Sherlock explained and asked as he strolled over to his closet. He opened it up and began skimming through the different shirts he could wear.