The Reality That Doesn't Exist

((Trying not to be turned on by this...)) She finally had reached the point where she could lose it if he didn't answer. "Yes. You never said, how DID you know?"

((Okay. Just an idea here, tell me what you think. When they get to the scene and Sally says what she says, Sherlock gets suddenly defensive and ends up wondring why, getting shocked. Then when Lestrade asks who John is, again gets randomly defensive. During the crime scene, Lestrade flirts with John (or tries to) and possibly John flirts with him, Sherlock suddenly gets the first minute sense of jealousy and then becomes cocky as hell and desperate to show off with his deduction of the victim and all that jazz.

It's too soon to have him overly jealous or defensive, but because John is suddenly in his life; he starts to pick up bizarre feelings and questioning himself for the first time as well as the factor of John. Then of course pushing these of saying he's not feeling anything at all. And

((Aggh! Sorry about that! Damn my phone... I was saying 'and'. And just a note: I.want it to take a while for Sherlock to discover John is an alcoholic, like he generally CANNOT pick up on that. You're doing great with that already, Sherlock Holmes, I applaud you. Ugh, I need to figure out the timeline here.... I know how I set it up in the fanfiction, but I don't know if I want to do it the same way here...))

(( That all sounds fine! ))


Sherlock smirked, glad of the opportunity to show off. This would be enjoyable. He always enjoyed the look on their faces, even though it normally resulted in them getting quite angry with him afterwards, as if he'd done something offensive.

"I didn't know, I saw," he explained. "The way you held yourself when you entered the room, very distinctive, military, but then you said 'bit different from my day' which suggested you trained at Barts. So, an army doctor then. Obvious. You have a tan but not above the wrist, you've been abroad but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand which like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic which suggests the circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action then. Army doctor, wounded in action, tan. Afghanistan or Iraq. Simple. Then there's your brother..."

(ohh... ****. I need to control myself... MUST. NOT. DIE.) ... Can't believe I'm saying this but...damn! He is...amazing. How the bloody hell did he pick up on all that?! I couldn't say a WORD, I was so amazed. When he said my brother, he gestured at my phone and I handed it to him, eager to hear what he was going to say next.

As John handed him her phone Sherlock took it and tossed it round carelessly in his hands as he spoke.

"It's expensive, email enabled, MP3 player. But you're looking for a flatshare so you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Covered in scratches because it's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. You wouldn't treat a luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner then and the next bit's easy, you know it already."

Sherlock flipped the phone over to show John the engraving on the back.
"Harry Watson - clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father - this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara - who's Clara? Three kisses says it's romantic attachment but the expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend, and this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then - six months and he's giving it away? If she'd left him, he would've kept it. People do, sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it - he left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you've got a problem with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you didn't like his drinking."

(Aah, not again! STOP. STALKING. ME. Your brother doing it is quite unwanted as it is, and now YOU?) Again, he had me utterly dumbfounded. Even though he had it wrong that I had a brother, he had everything else absolutely right and explained all of it in ways I couldn't fathom. Drink- "How the HELL can you know about the drinking?" I asked finally.

(By the way, GREAT JOB with that last post. You're amazing, are you PERFECTLY SURE you're not using a script or anything? Because your accuracy is... perfect. I told you, I have every script so I know all the real words. Sherlock Holmes, you are genuinely amazing.)

(( I actually spent time memorising Sherlock's deductions so I could say them out loud in an attempt to impress people! I'm glad it's at least working on you! ))


"Shot in the dark," Sherlock smirked, raising one eyebrow and genuinely enjoying himself now. "Good one though."

"Tiny little scratch marks round the edge of the power connection. Every night he goes to plug it in, but his hands are shaking. Never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you are, see, you were right."

Amazing. Absolutely amaz- Wait, wait, WHAT did he just say?! I was utterly shocked. "I was right?! What was I right about?" I asked. I could tell though, that he seemed to find amusement in this. Don't honestly know what he finds so funny.

"The police don't consult amateurs," Sherlock sighed, hiding his smirk as he turned to stare out of the window again, knowing he had successfully proved himself to John.

I sat back, completely in awe. Absolutely silent, I didn't know what to say. Except, finally "THAT was absolutely AMAZING!" I said seriously taken back by him. He turned around and seemed a little surprised by what I'd said.

"Really?" Sherlock frowned, not particularly expecting that kind of compliment despite being proud of his own deductions. He wasn't used to others enjoying them.

"That's not what people normally say," he muttered.

It was weird, like he wasn't used to being complimented like that. That seemed odd. "Of course! It was absolutely astonishing. What do people normally say, then?" I said, interested in what he would answer.

Sherlock couldn't quite believe that John was still enthusing so much over his deduction. It was rather refreshing and he enjoyed it. Giving her a small smile, he answered, "Piss off."

I smiled back and laughed, imagining where that would come from. The cab finally stopped. He and I got out, he started walking towards the building and I followed.

Once they'd arrived at the crime scene, Sherlock thrust the driver some money and jumped out, leading the way towards the police tape where the annoying Sally Donovan was stood waiting, already giving him a scathing look.

"I'm here to see Inspector Lestrade," he announced.
"Why?" Sally scowled.
"I think he wants me to take a look," the detective replied, lifting up the tape and ducking underneath it.
"Well you know what I think," she muttered.
"Always Sally," he sighed, then sniffed the air and added, "You know you didn't make it home last night."

Donovan looked momentarily flustered then quickly recovered and turned to John. "Wait, who's this?"
"Dr Watson. Colleague of mine."
"How did you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?" She looked at John with a smirk. Sherlock scowled at her and held the tape up for John to duck under.

((I don't really mind that you skipped that whole "Did I get anything wrong bit" but now Sherlock doesn't know he was wrong about John's sibling...)) I watched the conversation between Sherlock and this woman he called Sally. Very interesting, they must not like each other. And...was he...getting defensive when she questioned me? No, John, don't be ridiculou-

I flustered a little when she said "Did he follow you home" "Would it be better if I just left-" I started to say, but Sherlock interrupted by holding the tape up. I just sighed and ducked under it. "Yeah, Freak's here. Coming in." Sally said into her walkie. Freak?! Excuse me, WHAT did she call him?! Now, now, John. You've only just met him. Calm down. Sherlock, Sally, and I walked closer to the building and a man was walking out.

((just a check in here but are we following canon word for word? Have no idea why you would want to but just so you know I don't have the script so my words won't necessarily follow the canon either)).

((Nope, we're not following the canon word for word. It's all right that you don't have the script, most everyone doesn't.))

(( Whoops, I forgot about the getting anything wrong part. Sherlock can ask her later if you like))


Sherlock was pleased when John made the decision to duck under the tape. He certainly didn't want her to go home. With another scathing look at Sally, he followed her over to the house, used to her calling him all kinds of names. It wasn't exactly pleasant but he didn't let it effect him.

"Ah Anderson," he announced at the man almost sounding sarcastically pleased to see him. "Is your wife away for long?"
"Don't pretend you worked that out," Anderson scowled. "Somebody told you."
"Your deodorant told me," Sherlock replied. "It's for men."
"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it."
"So's Sergeant Donovan."

The detective paused, savouring the look on Anderson's face for a moment before continuing, "and I think it just vapourised."
"Now look, whatever you're trying to imply," Anderson began defensively.
"I'm not implying anything," Sherlock interupted, brushing past him and making his way to the door. "I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat and just happened to stay the night. And I'm assuming she scrubbed your floors judging by the state of her knees."

He gave a little smirk and disappeared into the house to find Lestrade.


((What was it you said we were doing differently on the crime scene?))

((It's all right, yeah, he can ask later. And okay, on the crime scene, we will be focusing primarily on THE NOTE in question. Like, when he sees it, the 'A' will be marked with the victim's blood otherwise SCARLET. If you'd like the read the first fanfic, it might help with that bit. If not, just do what you want to do. And get cocky when Lestrade starts flirting with me and I am possibly flirting back. ))

This man Anderson and Sherlock were having a conversation, they must not like each other either. I couldn't help but feel slightly sorry at Sherlock's deduction and yet slightly finding it funny. I just watched with amazement and didn't say a word. Then he went inside and I followed. There were people working, and a specific open room he and I walked into. The man from before, Inspector Lestrade was in there. I wondered exactly who he was and how he knew Sherlock. And...he was... A good looking man. Rather...good-looking.

"There you are. Hello, who's this?" Greg frowned. This was the first time Sherlock had brought someone else with him to a case. He had been rather insistant on having an assistant, which was a little unusual in itself as he didn't usually bother. Anderson was the default setting but the two men hated each other.

The woman was familiar... It took Greg a moment to figure out where he had seen her before. Sherlock's flat, she had been sitting in the chair when he called. He took in the walking stick and the servicable clothes worn for warmth and practicality rather than fashion but they did nothing to hide the rather attractive package underneath. Greg found his eyes wandering.

He began cataloguing details with his policeman's eyes. Okay, so he was slower than Sherlock but he was still attentive. No indentation on the ring finger, not married then, not now anyway. She wore a certain weariness as well, slightly haggard; probably recovering from being ill or injured or both. Looking at the very short, military-style hair and the stick, Greg favoured injured. Experience and age hid behind those blue eyes as well. "I'm taking a big risk letting you in here," Greg pointed out, handing the blue cover-alls out, not surprised when Sherlock refused one.

Sherlock nodded a simple greeting at the Inspector and bypassed the blue overall, instead just handing one directly to John.
"Put one of these on," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and waiting for the other two to get ready.

He couldn't help but notice Lestrade's wandering eyes and sighed quietly to himself. This was just typical of the Inspector. Typical of men in general, in fact.
"She's with me," he announced, rather suddenly and a little on the defensive side. He was slightly surprised by the aggressive tone of his own voice and reeled it in, clearing his throat.

I just nodded and took it, started to put it on. It didn't really matter if they were watching. And...did he...just get defensive? No, no, John. Don't be ridiculous.

((sorry, what am I supposed to be looking at with your link?))

"Since the big git won't introduce me, I'm Greg Lestrade, detective inspector with the Met. Didn't I see you at his flat?" He extended a hand to shake. Might as well be civil. It sometimes got you further finding things out if you were nice, especially where the ladies were concerned, even ex-military ones. Unless she's a Lesbian, he thought gloomily. That would be just my luck. She had noticed him looking, anyway, although there was no indication that she was interested in return.

((DOH, did it NOT work... I'll fix that...)) I smiled at him, though a little offended that referred to Sherlock as a 'git'. I took his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Inspector. I'm Dr. John H. Watson. And yes, you did." I said. I got to see a bit more of him. Oh yes. Very attractive in terms of looks. Hmm. ((Okay. Here it is. [Only admins are allowed to see this link]
And if it doesn't work then... I'll... jump off Reichenbach Falls.))