We went after Sherlock when a cab stopped next to him. I saw how he took a very close look at the cabby and then made up some excuse, so he would drive away.
“Is it because of the case with the killer cabby? ,“ I asked John.
“Yup,“ he answered.
I smirked, walking over to Sherlock, waving a hand in the air and immediately a cab came over to us. The driver was a rather young, not like a psychopathic killer looking, man.
“Hey, could you take us to Scotland Yard, please,“ I asked politely, fake smiling softly.
“Yeah, of course,“ he responded smiling back.
“Come, one boy,“ I said waving John over and looking at Sherlock
We got into the cab. I was sitting between John and Sherlock now, thinking about the case as John asked, “How did you get Donovan to hate you, right on your first day of work?"
“Well, I told her she should buy herself some kneepads…, but she was very impolite bevor so I guess it was adequate,“ I responded, to John's question.
“You did? Why didn't I think about this quote, it's brilliant! “ Sherlock asked.
“Could have been from you too,“ John said, smirking at us.
“You two really have got pretty much in common, it's really scary,“ he laughed out loud, causing the cabby to look at him confused. I turned to Sherlock, who sat rather close to me. “I'm not even half as brilliant, as you are,“ I admitted.
“I mean, I've only met you like six hours ago and I believe you are one of the most interesting and by far most intelligent person, I've ever met, “ I told him honestly, what caused him to smile softly.
“Well, thank you,“ John whined playfully.
“Oh come on…“ I laughed. It was actually very unusual for me to open up to people so fast, but for me, it felt like we've known each other for ages now… kitschy … yup definitely.
“I must admit, If there wouldn't have been Moriarty, I could say the same thing about you,“ the Detective said, to my surprise.
“How very charming of you, to compare me to a mad psychopath, but I really get your point he was very evil but still brilliant. So actually it is an honor to compare my intellect to his,“ I answered thankfully.
“Every other person would have slept him upside his head already, for comparing them to a maniac and you thank him? “ John asked, rather confused.
“Yup, I know, I went insane,“ I replied, to John.
“Ther is a very thin line between insane and brilliant and by the way, please feel free to call me Sherlock, when someone calls me Mr.Holmes I always feel like an official talk to me and to be honest: I hate them. And as you're not a client either, I think it's more suitable “ Sherlock meant, while he stood up, getting out of the cab, which just slowed down.
“You better be careful, about what you say. People will think you're not this bad after all and we don't want this to happen, don't we!? “ I said teasingly.
“Definitely not,“ he responded.
John, who held the cab's door open for me, just shook his head. That was so unlikely for the Detective.
“How much do you get? ,“ I asked the cabby, fake smiling again.
“Twenty pounds, for you,“ he smiled widely at me.
“Here you are,“ I heard a deep voice from behind me, Sherlock's voice. He handed the confused cab driver the money and turned away right afterward. I quickly followed him, John behind me.
“This was great,“ I laughed at Sherlock.
“Was it? “ he asked unsurely.
“Yes, it definitely was,“ John agreed to smile.
As we walked into the police station, Sargent Donovan walked straight to us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Freak, I believe I have to give you this,“ she said handing us a box. “It's ALL of the evidence. So don't mess it up,“ she preached to us.
“Why is everyone trying to get us married, it's only been our third date…,“ I said dramatically.
“What? “ Donovan asked, wide-eyed.
“It was sarcasm, dear Sargent Donovan. Not noticeable for people with an IQ beneath room temperature,“ Sherlock explained acting understanding.
“I'm getting completely nuts around you,“ Donovan hissed, rushing away as fast as possible.
“It's more likely the other way around,“ John mumbled.
“How rude of you,“ I said, acting indignant. Sherlock nodded agreeing.
John looked shocked.
“Just kidding,“ I said laughing and the Detective even smiled. John looked relief.
“She should really do something about her knees,“ Sherlock smirked. We went back outside and, yes, hired another cab. John Carriers the evidence box and put into the trunk.
“ 221B Baker Street, please,“ Sherlock told the cabby.
So we drove to Baker Street. During the ride, we were all caught in our own thoughts. I thought about the motive someone could have to get people to hang themselves, but I had no clue. When The cab stopped Infront of a red awning, with the words “SPEEDY'S“ on it. Next to this cafe restaurant was a black door. So this was Baker Street 221B. All of us got out of the cab and I headed to the trunk to get the box out, as I saw John paying the cabby. The Consulting Detective, not being a gentleman, just walked over to the way opening it and walking in. John, being a total gentleman, made an attempt to take the box from me.
“I got this,“ I said, in a thankful manner.
He just nodded, holding the door open for me, so I could walk into the house.
“Oh, hello dear. Who are you?,“ I heard a woman's voice to my left asked.
When I turned my head towards her, I saw an around 60 years old lady, who was judged, by the way, she was standing in the hallway.
“Good afternoon, I'm (y/n) (y/l/n), nice to meet you, “I responded nicely
“I'm Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, but not the housekeeper,“ she announced. I nodded smiling and walked up to the steps. “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13…,“ I counted. I know it is probably rather weird to count the steps of a building, but for some reason I always do. I followed Sherlock into his flat, John right behind me. The flat was quite untidy but clean. The first things that caught my eye was the skull, which was obviously a real one, the enormous amount of books, some thumbs in a jar (by the way they looked, the liquid they were pickled in was saltwater) and a yellow smiley at the wall with many bullet holes in and around it.
“If you ain't got no other hobbies, it could happen that you just start to shoot at walls… I mean, who doesn't do that…pfffff,“ I thought sarcastically again.
"Where can I put the box? And are the thumbs inlayed in salt water? I mean it at least looks like it,“ I asked.
“Right here on the floor between the armchairs. Yes, this is salt water it's an experiment…“
“About the decomposition of organic tissue in salt water. Why useful to find out how old a water corpse is…,“ I ended his sentence.
“correct,“ he replied.
“Every normal person would have already been discussed or out of the flat by this time,“ John said.
“Then there is finally something good, about me not being normal,“ I chuckled.
“May I,“ I asked pointing at the sofa. Sherlock nodded and John looked released, glancing at one of the armchairs.
“Don't worry, I wouldn't even think about sitting on your chair,“ I told him
“How did you… never mind,“ he said, not even wondering no more.
picture sources: https://selenestudiesabroad.wordpress.com/tag/sherlock/
https://pikabu.ru/story/kartina_iz_seriala_sherlok_5380911
https://www.tripadvisor.it/LocationPhotoDirectLink-g186338-d211907-i190864299-Sherlock_Holmes_Museum-London_England.html
https://comicvine.gamespot.com/forums/battles-7/adrian-monk-vs-sherlock-holmes-questions-1462951/
https://giphy.com/gifs/john-watson-BAMKdWTYiIxag
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The one, who makes the difference (Sherlockxreader)
FanfictionI am Inspector (y|n) (y|l|n) and I am shifted to Scotland Yard since no one is capable of solving a crime there and they asked my former police station for help. Who could I possibly meet there... This story takes place after Sherlock came back from...
