The Army Doctor: An Unexpected Case

Roast Chicken

"So John, I see you've returned. But by the looks of you, you didn't find those three, so." Sherlock puts down the violin that had been resting in his hands. "Do we have a case to solve or what?" John smiles, Sherlock has agreed to help, yes! "I have their- Fili's phone, so we should call, work with them on this," John whips out his phone all too eagerly. He dials the number and someone answers.

"Hello, Fili? It's John Watson we met earlier-"

"Oh, John Watson."

"Yeah, that's me. So Sherlock and I have come to terms on helping you and your kin."

Why did John say "kin"? It's not a word he use often to refer to family...

"Thank you Master Watson. We shall meet at the Prancing Pony Pub, to further discuss this, try to find leads. Will it be okay to bring more of my kin than before?"

It is only now does John realise that he was not speaking to Fili, but his uncle.

"Yeah, of course, if it'll help with the case, yeah." He thinks for a moment, "where is this pub? I've never heard of it. Is it new?"

"Quite. It's near that new cake store. Bombur's Cakes, just by there. We'll see you tomorrow, perhaps 6 o'clock?"

"Great, I'll bring Sherlock, bye."

"Goodbye John."

They hang up. John no longer felt as though he was going to puke at the sound of that voice. But instead he felt comforted. He felt like he could trust that voice with a thousand secrets, and why? No idea. Actually, I do have an idea... But they don't.

"So John, got it all settled? Good." Sherlock slips back comfortably in his seat, he picks up the violin and begins to play.

---

Sherlock sits comfortably in the pub booth, casually deducing people. John, however, was not so comfortable. He was nervous, partly scared, but also excited, happy. He felt adrenaline pulsing through him.

Exactly thirteen men walk through the door, the leader of the group spots the detectives in the corner and approaches them. "You're the lad that came into the shop yesterday," the one with the hat points. They all agree as they look at John, completely ignoring Sherlock. They all find seats and sit. Quickly they discuss the case, but not before introductions.

"Dwalin."

"Balin."

"Fili."

"And Kili, but you already knew that."

"Bofur, this is Bifur," the one in the hat points to the shaggy black and grey haired lad with the metal in his head. "And that's Bombur," he points to the fattest who has orange hair.

"Ori."

"Nori."

"Dori."

"Oin."

"Gloin."

Balin speaks as he gestures towards the leader. "And this is Thorin Oakenshield." Thorin nods and Sherlock and John give quick introductions.

They discuss the case until the late hours of night, but they had gotten hungry and order quite a lot of food. Everything from hazelnuts to roast chicken.

Three large and very intimidating (but also very stupid) men walk in. Their skin seemed leathery and they had odd, long pieces of hair sprouting from anywhere. They sit in the corner of the pub and three large glasses filled with grog come over to them, without them even having to order. They quickly begin arguing and our fifteen men watch with curiosity.

"Why'd we evhen 'ave to 'o out? My cookin' is just fine!"

"Because everythin' ya cook tastes like fish!"

"Except the fish."

"Well that tastes like chicken!"

They continue bickering and our men keep watching, until.

"'ey! What you lookin' at?"

They hold their breath and quickly look in any other direction that the bickering men were positioned.

"I said 'ey!" The three men stand and walk over to John and co. "What you want with us?"

"Nothing kind sirs, we are just discussing our own buis-"

"We caught ya starin', now 'ell us!"

"We were only-"

"You lot not gonna answer? Fine. We'll take this outside then." The large men grab three people each, so there's three guys and fifteen men, so nine are being aggressively moved outside, so the rest are forced to follow.

The nine being held by the big ugly bastards are practically thrown to the ground, the remaining run to the sides of their friends and detectives.

"So what we gonna do wit' you, 'eh?"

"We could cook 'em."

John quickly pipes in, "that'd be, er. That's cannibalism," the rest of the group excluding Sherlock start yelling at the bullies.

"We could just kill 'em."

"Sit on them! And squash 'em inta jelly!"

More fear pulses through the group, these guys were serious. Stupid, but serious.

"I don't exactly think these guys are worth you time."

This earns John quite a lot of hurt and angered looks, even from Sherlock.

"I mean, have you seen us? Shaggy, bearded, smelly, we're quite a sight..."

"So you s'pose we let ya all 'o 'en?"

"Well..."

"This hedgehog is taking us for fools!"

"Hedgehog?" John's offended.

One of the ugly men step forwards and roughly grabs Bombur by the shoulder, he looks like he's going to seriously injure him.

Suddenly, a man comes out of no where, he has a long grey beard and- Hey, he's the guy John walked into at the cake shop.

The man dressed in grey hits all three ugly men in the back of the head, knocking them unconscious.

"Let's go," he hisses. "Gandalf, so glad you finally joined us," Thorin says. "Well I had to," Gandalf walks off back into the pub.

"I think it best if we move on from here, we'll be in contact Master Watson." Thorin nods his goodbye and walks off, everyone excluding Sherlock and John follow him out. He was oddly focusing on John, not Sherlock, which he didn't like. He was the consulting detective genius here! Not John. But the connection between John and Throin was practically instant, like they'd been friends before. But this was only their second meeting...

Sherlock and John arrive back at 221B, they go over the ideas they came up with and made notes of who to contact in the morning.