Sherlock: One Shots & Headcanons

The DI's Foolproof Password: One Shot

Inspector Lestrade set his phone down on the table of 221b.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said to John, glancing at Sherlock. The Consulting Detective was busy typing away on his laptop, presumably updating A Guide to Deduction or recording the contents of a recent experiment.

John glanced at Sherlock, too. "I don't think he'll get it this time."

The DCI nodded, knowing his phone would be safe. He proceeded to to bathroom.

Not two seconds after the door closed, Mrs. Hudson burst in.

"John?! There's a Swiss woman in 223C! I think she's dying of consumption but I'm not sure. You see - "

John cut their landlady off. "Consumption in 223C?" He reached for his bag, and jetted out of the door, almost pushing Mrs. Hudson aside.

Sherlock glanced at the lonely phone on the coffee table. John was gone. Lestrade was in the bathroom. It wouldn't hurt to try again...

Swiftly, he closed the lid of his laptop and grabbed the Inspector's iPhone.

"Four letters...this should be easy..." he murmured.

First, he tried Lestrade's birthday. The screen flashed red. Wrong. Then he punched in name of Lestrade's daughter, Beth. Wrong. The name of his son? Wrong.

"What else is important to Lestrade?" Sherlock muttered in his baritone voice.

He tried the word "Yard". After all, Lestrade's job had to be important to him. A devious smile was spreading across Sherlock's face. The screen flashed red. Sherlock's face puckered in confusion.

"Alright...when was his aniversary, again?" He racked his mind palace for a few minutes. After trying to pick between June or July the seventeenth, he decided to try both passcodes, but to no avail.

"What the..." He cried. The toilet in the bathroom flushed, but he paid no attention. Nor did he see Lestrade peeping from the bathroom door with a satisfied and proud grin on his face.

"The world's only Consulting Detective and a super genius can't crack the simplest password ever," Lestrade said to himself as he watched Sherlock attempt his password a couple more times.

"Gah!" Sherlock yelled, forgetting that there was a visitor in the bathroom. Not that he cared anymore. He nearly threw Lestrade's phone across the flat before compsing himself. He took a deep breath and tried another passcode.

Lestrade stuck his head back in to wash his hands.

"So, Sherlock, can you guess what my passcode is?" He was in the middle of typing in MHOL.

"I'm fine, Gavin," he muttered. Lestrade grabbed his phone from Sherlock's large, startled hands.

"No you're not," said the DCI, punching in four letters, then showing Sherlock the home screen. He frowned.

"This is this my password," Lestrade tipped the phone over so he could see.

"4-7-3-4," He read out. "Wait then - "

"Yes, my password is Greg. My first name, but you should know that already,"

Sherlock frowned. "Greg? Really? Your given name is Greg?"

Now I've been outwitted by six people: two women, and four men, Sherlock thought.