The Copper Beeches

"Bored." Sherlock muttered to no one in particular. John was out of course, leaving him to lounge about in the flat without a case- a combination that would soon result in either his brain going into a vegetative state or the furnishings taking serious casualties. He had been reading a few of John's blog entries about there cases. His friend seemed to take a great deal of enjoyment in wittily naming the cases he'd solved as well as picking out the most trivial of details.

Flicking over to the other tab Sherlock hit 'refresh' on the browser for the 37th time that hour, watching impatiently as the 'Enquiries' page reload. The blog was where most of their private cases made the first point of contact, and he needed a new case. Naturally, 95% of cases got dismissed as too obvious and dull, but right now Sherlock was willing to take anything over a 5. Times were desperate.

As the page reloaded Sherlock's eyebrows jumped unexpectedly at the new message that had been posted.

Help regarding a new job
Dear Mr. Holmes,
I would very much appreciate your advice on a job I have been offered. Please don't dismiss my case as too mundane for you. I have left my email and mobile number for you to contact me.
Violet Hunter

Sherlock let out a dark chuckle before launching up from the couch and half throwing the laptop onto the sofa. "Pllleasse don't dismiss my case Mister Holmes, ugh!" he mimicked a whining girl who seemed think that solving their petty problems was more important than tracking down criminals. This wasn't even a 1; who did they think he was?
Now fuming, Sherlock knew only one person that could possibly cheer him up. And that person was currently on one of his infamous 'dates', probably ordering desert and trying his best attempt at flirting on a woman even more despicable than 'Violet Hunter' judging by the time.

Pulling on his coat and scarf, Sherlock swooped down the stairs and hailed a cab, requesting to be taken to the restaurant that John always took his first dates too.

Hows the date going? -SH

“How about a refill?” John picked up the bottle of red wine and hovered it over the nearly empty glass of his bubbly blonde date, Belinda. She giggled sweetly and accepted the offer.

John smiled and was about to ask Belinda a question when his mobile text alert sounded. “How... er scuse me a sec.” Possibly Sherlock with news of a case since nobody else would be texting him. He smiled at Belinda while fishing his phone out and read the message. He stuffed the phone back in his jacket pocket without replying. “Soo how long have you been working at Barts then?”

Come on John, don't be obvious. 3 months. -SH

Sherlock had managed to slip into the restaurant unnoticed by John. It wasn't that John would have been so unobservant as to miss him walking in. It had been more to do with the fact that his friend had chosen to sit with his back to the door, and that it was noisy enough for Sherlock's hushed instruction to the waiter to be drowned out by the other diners.
After firing off the text Sherlock sat back and sipped his drink, wondering why John's choice in women seemed to get more dismal each time. This 'Belinda' was truly insufferable to say the least.

Belinda barely had time to open her mouth before her date's phone interrupted the conversation again.

“Sorry.” John muttered and took out his mobile again and read the text message Shit. What did Sherlock mean? How? Realisation dawned.

John had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked around the room and saw his friend sitting nonchalantly watching him and his date. Not just looking, of course, observing, taking in every detail. It still amazed him how Sherlock worked but it was disconcertingly like living under a microscope.

“Is there something the matter?” Belinda tried to attract John's attention.

He cleared his throat which he always did when he felt so uncomfortable.

Sherlock had to use all his self control not to allow himself to smirk as John's eyes frantically searched the restaurant and fixed him with a glare.
"Carry on!" Sherlock mouthed silently and waving a dismissive hand when John's date wasn't looking his way.
This would be entertaining enough to distract him from the lack of a case. John attempting to flirting was priceless and although it had crossed Sherlock's mind that it could be perceived as perverse, he continued to enjoy watching his friend stumble over his words and attempt to woo his complete 'air-head' of a date.
His phone sounding in his suit pocket distracted him from the proceedings across the restaurant for a moment. New email;

Sender: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]
Subject: Help regarding a new job
Dear Mr. Holmes,
I would very much appreciate your advice on a job I have been offered. Please don't dismiss my case as too mundane for you, as I am sure you already have by this point. I have left my mobile number for you to contact me as soon as possible.
Violet Hunter

Sherlock blinked twice at the message but knowing full well that his eyes would never deceive him. The new-job-girl again? It was bad enough to waste his time by posting on the blog with a ridiculous request which couldn't even count as a 'case', let alone spam his email. Angrily he typed out a curt reply.

To: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]
Subject: Stop trying to contact me
Dear Ms Hunter,
I am not interested in your so called 'case'. Contrary to you claims of your 'case' being not 'mundane', I assure you that it is abysmally dull and not worth a second more of my time. Kindly stop contacting me.
S. Holmes

He hit send and looked up to resume his observation of John's date. But when he glanced over to the table he found John's seat empty.

John, his mind no longer on Belinda, was wondering what the hell Sherlock was doing sitting in the restaurant.

“Who's that man watching you?” Belinda asked worriedly.

“What, sorry?” the doctor replied having not heard her question properly.

“I said, who...is that man watching you. Us?

“Um. Nobody,” John smiled unconvincingly. His eyes went back to the detective who was mouthing silently at him to 'Carry On' and gave him the benefit of a glare.

“John, are you looking at a man?”

“Um, that's Sherlock, you know, the detective? I told you about him.” John glanced nervously at his tall friend and back to Belinda. “I...er thought he was at home doing some experiment or something.”

“You what! You live with him? She cried in a stunned, high, loud voice.

“He's my...” John began.

“You live with him! ” Belinda's voice pierced the hush that had descended on the room. She stood up abruptly rocking the table and scraping her chair back in her haste to snatch up her handbag and coat.

“Yes, No, God no! Not like that.” John stood up going a little red and wishing a hole would appear in the floor.

“He's your boyfriend!” Belinda, the blonde hair flying behind her, tore out of the restaurant unable to get away fast enough.

The doctor went to the door after her. “No, no. Wait, he's... my...flatmate. Shit.”

John approached the detective with thinly disguised annoyance. “Thank you, Sherlock. Thanks to you...She. thinks. I'm gay.”

John cocked his head to the side, took a breath and shut his mouth, attempting to find words. “Tell me you aren't here just to ruin my night out. There's a new case?...there is a new case...isn't there?

Sherlock kept his mouth shut a while as John found his words, observing the slightly balling of his fists by his sides. He raised his eyebrows in surprise before pushing the chair opposite out from the table with a well practiced foot.
"Sit down, your making a scene." he smirked before thinking better of it.
"I fail to see how my just being in the same room as you and your date, is enough to make her change her opinion on your sexual status, but then again I won't pretend to be an expert in these things." Sherlock brushed it off with a wave of a carefree hand.
"And of course I'm not here to ruin your night out." Sherlock exclaimed incredulously, "But there is still no case. I can practically feel my brain rotting away John!" Sherlock sat back into his chair abruptly, causing it to let out a loud squeak.
"Oh, and I kept getting 'spammers' on my email."

John sighed and sat down on the chair that Sherlock had propelled forward with his foot. He thought he ought to be used to people making assumptions about him and his flatmate by now.

“Let's just say you aren't my number one choice for dating advice.” John remarked drily.

“Is that why you are here, to tell me you have spam mail” John was no longer cross. “pass it over, I'll see if I can put on a filter.”

Sherlock passed his phone over with the e-mails up. John read the missives. “That's not spam, she's not the widow of a deposed head of a non-existent state. Could be a 6 or more, but a 5's better than you feeling crap and your brain rotting isn't it?” he cocked his head a little to the side “Or does watching crap telly sound better?”

"Oh come on, you can't be serious!" Sherlock almost shouted, causing yet a few more heads to turn in the restaurant. "She wants job advice, John, from me!" he lent forward, elbows slamming onto the table, "I'm the worlds only Consulting Detective, and this is all they've got for me?"
Sherlock gulped down his drink and stood up. "If you want to take it then please, be my guest, but I assure you it's not worth even your time." he strode off out into the cool nights air, a little more frustrated than he'd intended to be.

John hurried after Sherlock and caught up with him outside. “Wait, ok, ok,”

John put his hands up in admission of being at fault. “You were right, it's what we agreed, 5 or under I go.”

The doctor didn't like Sherlock getting upset. He understood the detective's outburst wasn't personal. It was that Sherlock couldn't stand being bored.

“Just let her to come over to the flat, and I'll talk to her, and if it's that simple I won't even need to go anywhere, mm?” he appealed quietly.

Sherlock was surprised to find that John had followed him out so quickly and that he seemed to be apologising, or at least being apologetic towards him. John was just too good to him sometimes, a small part of his mind told him.
"As you wish" Sherlock said plainly before turning towards the street. "Are you coming home then?" he asked, a little too tentative to pull of the impression of being completely oblivious to what he'd just done.

"Nothing to keep us here." John replied pragmatically happier that Sherlock was a little less stressed.

The doctor stepped to the kerb and stuck an arm out for a cab and nodded as one began to pull across for them. He opened the door to let Sherlock get in and instructed the driver "221B Baker Street, please" then climbed and shut the door.

"Have you not got any experiments you want to do?" he asked Sherlock while settling himself into the seat.

"I don't just do experiments for the sake of it John." Sherlock grumbled, turning to look out the window. They drove in silence for a little while before Sherlock dug out his phone from his coat pocket once more.
"You better email this Miss Hunter back, before she continues to fill up my inbox." he suggested, passing the phone over with a nonchalant expression.
When they reached the flat Sherlock went straight to the bay window in the lounge, discarding his coat onto the floor and reaching for the violin. He placed it in the crook of his neck and started to tune it, before pausing as he heard John head off down the corridor. "Goodnight, John." he called softly before taking up his previous place in a concerto he was learning.

“Never said you did.” John murmured matter-of-factly and smiled as he looked out of the taxi window.

John took Sherlock's phone when it was offered without hesitation and with a “Thanks” and e-mailed Miss Hunter with the good news. The reply he sent suggested that she call into the flat at her earliest convenience and he signed it 'Dr John Watson, on behalf of Sherlock Holmes'. He told Sherlock as he gave him his phone back.

The doctor saw Sherlock fling his coat down and as he was passing picked it up and draped it over the chair along with the scarf. As he was heading along the corridor for the bathroom he heard Sherlock pause in tuning up his instrument “Goodnight,” he responded warmly.

When John emerged from the bathroom he left Sherlock to play without interruption, retired to his bedroom upstairs and tried out his new earplugs since he wasn't on duty at the surgery the next day.

Sherlock didn't wake until late the next morning, 9.03am , a fairly unusual occurrence for him. He stretched lazily whilst listening to rain pound on his bedroom window, before getting up pulling on a silk dressing gown. John didn't have work today it was almost 100% likely he'd still be in bed, so Sherlock wasn't expecting to encounter anyone as he strolled through the flat half-naked.
However, when he burst through the door to the sitting room an unfamiliar feeling of shock and surprised washed over him, as seated in John's armchair was Mrs.Hudson and opposite her, nursing a cup of tea nervously was a young lady.
"Oh Sherlock-" Mrs.Hudson started as he quickly pulled the dressing gown around himself.
"You must be Miss Hunter? Glad to see you've made yourself comfortable." he drawled with a biting sarcasm which made Mrs. Hudson flinch slightly.

Violet Hunter was led by the lovely sweet Mrs Hudson up the stairs of Baker Street. Violet had been thrilled when Dr Watson had e-mailed her yesterday, because it was a matter of importance and peculiarity to her.
Mrs Hudson had been so kind to give her a cup of tea. She had accepted it and seated herself on one of the arm chairs without any knowledge of whose it was.

When Sherlock came in, Violet's breath hitched and she nervously put her cup in the saucer on the coffee table beside the arm chair. The man, as Mrs Hudson had told her, was frequently 'grumpy' and in a bad mood, she had said. Well, for a grumpy man, he looked rather gorgeous, Violet thought. She let her eyes flicker over him before he hid himself under the dressing gown. He really hadn't anything to be ashamed of, let's put it that way. His hair was muffled and it looked cute, but his harsh tone quickly scared the cuteness away.

"Yes, I did and indeed I am Violet Hunter. Your landlady was so kind to make this-" She got up and looked around. Could this mess be called a flat? "flat as comfortable as possible and I am very grateful for her hospitality." She bit back, but composed herself. If she wanted a favour of this particular young man, she had to be nice.

"Your assistant, Dr Watson, informed me that I was welcome the earliest of my convenience, so: here I am. May I ask where Dr Watson is?"

Sherlock regarded her with a bored expression as she babbled on about herself for a few moments. For some light entertainment he went about deducing a few facts about her; professional nanny, currently unemployed, recently broken up, living with her mother again for the first time in years, lives with two dogs- both her mothers, over-tired, stressed, possibly emotionally unstable. And most of all, very dull.
"He's asleep." he replied with a roll of his eyes, as if the fact was obvious, before going to the stair well that lead up to John's room.
"JOHN!" he shouted in a booming baritone before turning back to Miss Hunter who looked quite flustered by this point. "He'll be down shortly." he told her before sweeping through to the kitchen to make his coffee without a second glance.
How very unprofessional of you to keep a client waiting, John. -SH

John was awoken by Sherlock yelling up to his room and he was about to ask him where the fire was when his mobile vibrated on the holder on his bedside table. The new earplugs had worked so well and he had not heard his alarm clock. “Client?!” he said to himself Miss Hunter he thought. Keen.

John hurriedly dressed in jeans and his red shirt, combed his hair quickly noting he needed a haircut soon and jogged downstairs to find Miss Hunter, so he assumed it was, sitting with Mrs H in the living room.

“Um, I'm sorry to keep you...waiting," John smiled and noticed she was very attractive with lovely long hair, “Miss Hunter?”

Violet smiled when she saw John coming down. Luckily, he was a short-ish type, which was always pleasant, regarding her own petite posture. She hated talking with tall people, it gave her neck aches.

She got up from her chair to greet John. She straightened her dress and held out a hand for him to shake. "Violet, please." She said with a smile. His handshake was firm, but kind. This John Watson obviously had more social skills than the consulting detective.

"Dr Watson, I presume? I am terribly sorry for waking you, I really am." She smiled again, but now apathetically. She hoped at least John would understand.

John smiled as he shook hands with the delightfully diminutive Violet. “Yes, Dr John Watson, John please, no, it's fine, sorry, I really should have been up already. Um, make yourself comfortable please.” he put his hand out toward the chair.

“You said in your e-mail you have a problem to do with an offer of employment?” John noticed she was concerned and didn't take his eyes off her as he pulled a chair out from the table so that Sherlock could sit opposite their visitor if he wanted to.

((Please give me some time to work the adaptation out =) ))

((yeah sure that's fine ))