You and Sherlock

Thank You For Last Night

You were home when John was set to arrive at Baker Street. In fact, you'd heard a knock, and had just opened the door for him -- though you hadn't realized it would be him. Behind him, Sherlock as just getting out of a cab -- likely from St. Barts', as Molly had sent you several irritated texts -- and you watched as he paused, and then called out a greeting. 

"Hello." 

John stopped, lowering his hand as Sherlock reached in through the passenger side window of the cab and handed some money to the driver. 

"Thank you," you heard him murmur to the driver. John slowly limped over to Sherlock.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," he said, still unassuming and a little caught off guard.

"Sherlock, please," Sherlock replied, uncharacteristically genial. Looking away from John, toward the door, he shot you an apologetic smile. "Hello, Y/N,"

"Well," John looked at you and smiled in acknowledgment. "This is a prime spot. Must be expensive," he continued, brow furrowed. 

"Oh," Sherlock shook his head, "Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out." 

You rolled your eyes. You knew exactly what his "helping out" entailed.

"Sorry – you stopped her husband being executed?" John seemed impressed, and you couldn't contain the smirk that spread across your face. Sherlock looked blankly at John for a moment and then shook his head again.

"Oh no. I ensured it." 

He shot a sly smile at you, and then an innocent, blinding one at John as they made their way to the door. You moved out of the way, off to the side. From the corner of your eye, you saw Mrs. Hudson coming out of her flat to see the commotion.

"Sherlock. Hello, dear," she opened her arms to Sherlock, and he obediently hugged for a quick moment, thought he looked at you over her shoulder. Sherlock quickly extricated himself and then motioned toward John.

"Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson."

"Hello," Mrs. Hudson greeted him pleasantly. "Sherlock," she added, "You should introduce him to Y/N here, too," 

"I --" Sherlock began as you cut him off.

"There's no need, Mrs. Hudson," you reassured the grandmotherly landlady. "We've already met." 

John cleared his throat. "How do, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Well, come in," Mrs. Hudson gestured John inside and he thanked her as he stepped into the building.

Sherlock cleared his throat and gestured toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

Mrs. Hudson and John both nodded, and Mrs. Hudson closed the door. As they made their way toward the stairs, Sherlock turned to you and under his breath murmured,

"Thank you. For last night." 

He didn't give you a chance to reply, instead turning and trotting up the stairs before pausing and then waiting for John to hobble up. You watched as John reached the top and Sherlock opened the door ahead of him, and then you turned and left 221B Baker Street.

***

You'd only just hailed a cab when your phone began its incessant pinging.

He said it could be nice, but we had to get "all this rubbish cleaned out." -SH

It would appear our efforts were lacking. -SH

You could picture Sherlock trying to contain himself as John -- surely unintentionally -- insulted the very cluttered 221B Baker St. You held back a laugh.

It's a good thing he didn't drop by before we cleaned it. 

You sent that, and then added.

And how did you manage to get my number?

The reply came not a second later.

It wasn't clean to John. -SH

You rolled your eyes.

That was a joke, Sherlock.

He is surprised by the skull. -SH

You sighed heavily. So this was how it was going to be. He would ignore that bit about getting your phone number, but was going to give you a play-by-play. 

I can't imagine why. 

Yes, you thought to yourself, why would anyone be surprised by a human skull sitting on the mantelpiece?

Nor can I. It isn't alarming. I told him it helps me think. And that he's a friend of mine. -SH 

You laughed out loud and the cabbie shot a concerned look at you. You'd forgotten Sherlock's ineptitude at discerning sarcasm.

Mrs. Hudson is under the impression that we will only be needing one bedroom. Very silly of her, don't you think? -SH

Silly, indeed, Sherlock, you thought, amused. What else would Mrs. Hudson think? Sherlock never had friends over, nor did he ever bring anyone home. Poor Mrs. Hudson was likely grasping at straws. 

Now she's reassuring John that there's all sorts around here. It's ridiculous! -SH

Indeed, you replied, on the verge of hysterical laughter. You could only imagine Sherlock's surprise and John's discomfort. For a fleeting moment, you wished you'd stayed to watch this all in person, but unfortunately, groceries didn't buy themselves. 

Your phone pinged again and the cabbie shot you an irritated look.

John is not impressed by my website. He doesn't believe me. -SH

You'd read Sherlock's website, though only because Sherlock had come crashing down to your flat in the middle of the night and had banged on the door until you blearily opened it for him, at which point he shoved his laptop in your face and demanded you read it. Needless to say, you didn't exactly cherish that memory. 

You were almost to the grocer's when your phone began pinging again. You looked down.

"Oh for the love of --" you cut yourself off and then addressed the cabbie. "I'm afraid we need to change course."

He looked at you through the mirror.

"Yes, miss? Where to?"

You looked down at your phone.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

Had been looking up, you might have noticed the flash of panic that crossed the cabbie's face. Instead, you were preoccupied with the barrage of texts.

There's been another suicide. -SH

It's different this time. Lestrade's here. -SH

He wants me at the scene. -SH

Anderson's supposed to there. -SH

Come to Brixton, Lauriston Gardens immediately if convenient. If inconvenient, come all the same. -SH

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A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I will post two more chapters by the end of this week. Thank you so much for reading and voting!