The Reality That Doesn't Exist

John's handshake was pleasantly firm and welcoming and Sherlock was getting an opinion that John would be a steady sort who wouldn't mind an occasional client who found him via his website The Science of Observation and Deduction turning up for a consultation.

"Oh, no I ensured it" Sherlock assured John with a smile regarding the fate of Mrs Hudson's late husband.





(( Yes, we can swop back to the other universe now... and play leapfrog Ooh, I'm enjoying how this is developing. ))

((Me too! Again, you guys are A. MAY. ZING!!! And yay, I'm off pause!)) The temperature of his hand was a bit cold, but I returned the shake. He certainly has a very firm grip. I was a little surprised by what he said. Just to make sure I understood what he said, I say. "I'm...sorry. You're saying that you stopped her husband from being executed?"

"Oh no, I ensured it," Sherlock smirked, enjoying John's reaction for a brief moment before the door was opened by a pleased looking Mrs Hudson who instantly threw her arms round the detective.

"Sherlock!" she cried.
"Mrs Hudson. I'd like you to meet Dr John Watson." He introduced his new potential flatmate. The landlady looked momentarily taken aback by the name, but covered well. After all, there were all sorts round there.
"Lovely to meet you Dr Watson," she smiled. "Come on in."

She opened up the door and Sherlock gestured for John to go first. "Shall we?"

((A long post I'm afraid. I hope you like Mycroft's appearances.))

Mycroft sat back and watched as Anthea slid into a chesterfield armchair and crossed her shapely black-stockinged legs, a deliberate maneuver designed to entice but Mycroft never mixed business with pleasure. At least, not during office hours.

"Drink, my dear?" She accepted the single malt in the cut crystal tumbler he handed over with grace and a small smile. They sat companionably for a while, allowing the fire in the hearth to warm them. Mycroft cleared his throat when he felt enough time had passed and fixed her with an encouraging smile. She took a sip of her drink, then turned to face him. "Did Bond deliver?" he enquired.

"Oh yes, admirably, sir." Anthea took another sip and passed him her Blackberry. On it was a photo of a dark haired man who looked a bit dishevelled; military haircut, muscular frame, typical soldier. Ex-soldier, Mycroft amended, judging by the slightly too-long hair. "His name is William Murray, and he was Watson's love-interest."

"Was?"

"Yes, past tense. Bond overheard him explaining to her that he is in fact gay and has never been physically sttracted to her. Apparently a man Murray knew whom he refered to only as Ted was the instigator, thinking it would be funny for Murray to pretend to pay Watson some interest."

"A purile joke? Or something more?" Mycroft speculated.

"Bond thought not. Typical soldier prank, looking to make someone the brunt of their stupid jokes. Nothing more than a childish ruse, really."

"Well, keep an eye on Murray anyway and find out who this Ted person is. I want to make sure that is all this was, a simple practical joke. How is Watson now?"

"She returned to her flat and I suspect she will be suffering a hangover in the morning. I have detailed Trevelyan to keep an eye on where she goes. I shall catch up with him later. Bond is flying off to Azerbaijan tomorrow, so I took the liberty of securing the services of both Trevelyan and Thomas. Mallory sends his regards by the way."

"You must invite him to our next reception. He really is an interesting fellow." Mycroft commented. "So, should our good doctor survive this set-back..."

"Then she'll be meeting your bother at 221b Baker Street, tomorrow evening. The property is owned by a lady called Elaine Hudson, apparently your brother made sure her husband got the death penalty in America."

"Sounds like a typical Sherlockian maneuver. What had the poor man done? Made some grammatical faux pas, I shouldn't wonder. Sherlock is somewhat pedantic about the English language."

"Apparently he abused his wife and murdered her brother."

"Charming. Justice was served then?"

"It seems so."

"How public spirited of my brother. So tell me, what interest does he have in our military doctor?"

"I am afraid I haven't established that yet, sir. Beyond the superficial necessity to have someone share the rent." She drained her glass. "I shall keep you informed of my progress."

He watched her stand. "Very well, my dear. I look forward to hearing your report. Sleep well." After Anthea had gone, Mycroft took out a pen and paper and began to write. He took his time, composing carefully. He mused on the fact that if Sherlock required anything it certainly was not someone to share the rent. On his allowance, Sherlock could easily afford the central London appartment on his own. Companionship? Mycroft seriously doubted it. His brother had never been one for socialising, and societal norms escaped him. An experiment then? Possibly. Mycroft wondered if Watson knew what she was in for. On balance, he seriously doubted it. He drained his own glass and set the tumbler down carefully. He picked up the phone.

"Harrison, would you bring the car round? Yes, I wish to go straight home, thank you."

((Oh, goodness. I fear I may be getting my second cold... Fear is the word that I use mainly because I fear for the probability of contagiousness. That is people I know getting sick because I'm sick and being around them... And why do I sound so much like MYCROFT??? )) He ENSURED it??? WHAT??? I didn't quite understand. But the door opened. The woman who he introduced as Mrs. Hudson seemed very nice. She hugged him. Seems like she knows him better than he said. "Thank you." I said to her, but somehow the thoughts weren't connecting. I noted that Sherlock gestured for ME to go in first... For some reason that seemed odd. But I went up and he followed. Realizing, at last, that I had my cane and it gave me some difficulty getting upstairs. Finally, I made my way up. And...wow. It was... Aside from being messy, it was actually more than I thought it'd be. Loooking around, it was decently spaced, in fact; the state it was in it must be...not cheap. And yet, all I could bring myself to say was. "Oh. Yes. This could be very nice indeed." God, what is wrong with me? Much better than just 'very nice'.

Sherlock stood to one side and watched as John viewed the flat, a small smile on his lips. He knew she'd like it, and it was obvious she was impressed.

"Yes, yes I thought so," he agreed, nodding as he surveyed the place, most of his stuff now dotting around cluttering it in boxes and bags and stacks of papers and a skull and his violin and all the things that made Sherlock feel right at home.

"So I just...went ahead and moved in..."

"As soon as we get all of this cleared..." I said, not exactly realizing he and I were talking at the same time. "Oh." I said looking at him, feeling slightly embarrassed. "So, this is all..."

There was an awkward moment as Sherlock quickly realised John thought all the stuff in the flat was rubbish ready to be thrown out and cleared up before they moved in. He glanced around, thinking it didn't look all that bad, but that he'd better make a bit of an effort if he wanted to keep his new flatmate for very long.

"Right yes," he muttered. "Well, obviously I can uhh...straighten things out." He grabbed some letters he'd received and his jack knife, stabbing them into the mantelpiece in one swift move. "A bit." Well, at least that was the letters taken care of.

Well. Someone certainly didn't like mail. Stabbed a knife right in them and onto the mantlepiece. I was surprised at his swiftness. A bit? I then noticed...a skull. On...the mantlepiece. O--kay then. That was a bit...odd. "That's a skull." was all I could say in the absurdity of it and indicating it so he knew what I was talking about.

"Yep," Sherlock grinned at John, then turned to the skull, patting it fondly. "An old friend."

"Well," he shrugged. "I say friend..." He moved away to the window and stared out down onto the street, thinking it was a much better view than his last place. He could see everything that was going on from here. Neat.

Ohh... I didn't know quite what to think of that... The landlady who Sherlock referred to as Mrs. Hudson enters the room. (I'm just gonna go ahead and do their bit, other wise this post will be really short and I'll feel stupid.) "What do you think of it, Dr. Watson? There's a second bedroom, just upstairs." she says. "That is, if you need two." The way she looks...is...she hinting that-? I'm a little embarrassed. "Of course we'll need two." I say firmly, trying to hide my embarrasment and to save the possibility of his own. She jumps a little. "Oh! Don't worry, it's fine. There are all sorts round here these days. There's two next door aren't married either." she says. Oh, god, does she think... I look at him and he seems to be in his own universe.

Sherlock was too busy looking excitedly round his new home and thinking where he was going to put everything to really take in what Mrs Hudson was saying.

He picked up a file of papers and glanced through them casually.

"Oh, Sherlock, you've made such a mess!" Mrs. Hudson says looking not only in the kitchen, but in the living room and Sherlock actually seems to look up. I notice a Union Jack pillow, take it, move it into the chair right where I am, and sit down with a groan. It still hurts, just a little. Not much, not that I care. "I looked you up on the Internet last night." I tell him. That was an extremely awkward way to start a conversation, John! He might think you're stalking him now. Damn, I did just say that out loud.

Sherlock glanced up a little when Mrs Hudson chastised him for the mess, but said nothing. Things would look a little tidier once he'd found proper homes for everything, but not much. He generally kept his places rather chaotic, but he preferred them that way. As long as he knew where to find everything, and he usually did.

John caught his attention though, when she mentioned that she'd looked him up on the internet.
"Oh?" He asked, intrigued. "Did you find my website?" He gave a small smirk, expecting it to have impressed her considerably.

"Er...yes...I did..." I said remembering what I thought of it. Then I paused. (Sorry, that was really short... Argggh...)

Sherlock smirked, feeling proud of himself already. "And...?" he queried. "What did you think?" He stood a little taller, eager to hear her opinion.

Oh, god. Can I really tell him? When he's looking like THAT, he probably expects me to have a good opinion of it. I don't want to offend him, I really don't. I just kind of gave a little look and again paused. He looks at me quizically. ((Okay, I'm gonna switch things around here if you don't mind.)) "You said you could identify a retired Marine sergeant by the tatoo on the back of his hand and a man who has a summer cold by his slippers." ((Get it??? )) I finally said, skeptical.

(( Yes, yes and I bloody love it!!! XD ))


Sherlock's face dropped as he realised John didn't seem as impressed with his website as he'd expected her to be, which was strange.

He fixed her with a half frown. She obviously thought he was making those things up. Hadn't he impressed her enough with his earlier deduction.
"Yes," he replied smugly. "And I can read your military history in your leg and your brother's drinking in your mobile phone."

God damn it, now I feel bad... His expression just totally dropped... Why did I have to do that??? But then... I was surprised. And VERY INTERESTED. "How?" I ask.

Sherlock ignored the question, wanting to keep John in the dark for the time being. He enjoyed revealing how he did things, just to see the expression on people's faces, but it was rather annoying at the same time, because as soon as he'd explained himself, they suddenly thought it was all so incredibly simple. If it was that bloody simple, why couldn't they do it?

He supposed that hiding his secret for a while longer was a sort of punishment for John, as she had been so sceptical about his skills and with regard to his website. He turned his back on her and moved towards the window again, gazing out onto Baker Street.


(( Are we having the same case or something different? I don't mind...I'm just going with the flow. ))

Ooh, damn. He's putting me off. He must know I want to know.

((Erm... I'm trying to think. Because what I did for my fanfiction was the same case, but with a different angle. And if I want to do the same thing here or something new... Because the way I did it in the fanfic, it was A Study in The Scarlet Letter. Pretty self explanatory. It basically all amounts to the Scarlet Letter. No cab chase but a run, kind of randomly. And I did the pill thing differently. If you'd like to read it, [Only admins are allowed to see this link] is the link. So that way you could glance it over and see what you think. I'd really like to hear it.

Oh, and I would like to mention this early. The whole Sherlock and Irene thing, I have an alternative storyline on that because the way the BBC story is set up as well as the orig. will not really work if Sherlock is going to be falling in love with John/IS in love with her. So I have the storyline, based on a certain version of A Scandal in Bohemia, that he'd met her A LONG WHILE BEFORE he met John; fallen in love with her; and then she beats him; reveals she was using and decieving him; leaving him heartbroken. Then really late in the game, she comes back thinking she can beat him again. Then TWIST ENDING!!! What do you think?))

(( Yeah, liking the idea of that Irene storyline, so when we bring her back, they've already got history - kinda like the Robert Downey Jr Irene. Never really bought the idea of them being in love in the traditional sense, Sherlock is more fascinated with her intelligence and intrigued by her. Well, it's Sherlock, nothing is ever traditional. So we're sticking to suicides then...good good...leads me on nicely to...))


"What do you think of these suicides then Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson called from the kitchen. "Thought that'd be right up your street."

Sherlock noticed a police car pulling up outside the flat.
"Three in three months," the landlady continued.
"Four," the detective stated. "There's been a fourth. And there's something different about this one."

He spun round as Inspector Lestrade pounded up the stairs, looking stressed.

((Can't remember if you wanted me to play Greg as well as Mycroft for you. Just let me know))

((Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!!! Love you all so much. Smoochy smoochy time for Sherlock. And sorry I'm a day late on the reply, but GJLestrade we do NEED a Lestrade right now. And if you feel like doing Lestrade as well as Mycroft, then you can. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. I want you to do whatever you feel like doing.))

((Happy Valentine to you too, am more than willing to be Greg for you, as long as you don't mind if he takes a romantic interest in John as well... lol. Shall I stick to canon (Study in Pink) for you then?))