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Post-Season 2
Fandom - Sherlock (BBC 2010 series)
Sherlock © BBC

John Watson was tidying up around the shared flat he and Sherlock Holmes lived in. Sherlock was ‘borrowing’ John’s laptop while his friend cleaned up, reading emails for new cases for the both of them. Each case Sherlock read aloud, John would ignore it at first, then respond with a half-assed answer. Sherlock didn’t like being ignored, looking up from the laptop and watching John put away books the brunette was reading last night.
“Why are you ignoring me?” He asked while closing the laptop.
“I’m cleaning, isn’t it obvious?” John said as he finished his job, sitting on the sofa.
“Why are you cleaning? Since when do you care about the state of the flat?”
“I have a mate coming today, so I’d like the place to look decent.”
“You have friends?” John gave Sherlock a side glance.
“Yes, I have friends. This particular friend is moving back to London from living in Switzerland.” He said, “don’t try to read him like you do to me and everyone else you’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“I can make no promises.” Sherlock said as he handed John’s laptop back to him.
“What did I say about you using your own laptop?” He scolded as he went to put his laptop back into his office. Before he could walk back to the sitting room, the door was being knocked on, John trying to reach the door before Sherlock opened the door, a male wearing boots, black slim jeans, and a dark grey coat.
“This John Watson’s flat?” The male asked, a hint of a Swiss accent from living in the area for a period of time. Sherlock looked the male up and down, reading certain traits off the male, but he suddenly shifted in a way where he could no longer ‘see’ the facts about the new guest. This took him back as John squeezed himself out of the door past Sherlock.
“Ah! (Name)! How was the flight back?” John asked his friend as they embraced in a hug. Sherlock retreated from the door and sat on the sofa, looking at John and seeing that he could still read people, but not the new person in the doorway.
“I hate flights, what kind of question is that?” He droned out as he gave John’s back a firm pat, “brought ya something.” He handed John a Swiss Army knife.
“Oh, thank you.” John smiled as he looked at the knife.
“Yeah I watched someone murder their brother with this knife. They let me keep it after I caught the guy.” John almost dropped the knife.
“What the hell (Name)!” He exclaimed as (Name) laughed.
“Whoops. Don’t worry, it was cleaned.”
“That’s besides the point! What am I gonna do with you?”
“Dunno. Let me in maybe since it’s raining?”
“Oh. OH! Sorry about that, come in.” John led his friend inside, (Name) ruffling his hair that was damp from the rain.
“It’s alright. How’s Mary doing?”
“She’s doing fine. Asked about you the other day in fact. Tea?”
“Sure, and that’s lovely. What’s the question?” (Name) seated himself after taking off his coat and John hung it up.
“She wanted to know if you’re still working out like you were before you moved to Switzerland.” John said as his voice got quieter the farther he got.
“Eh, similar to it.” That raised some eyebrows between Sherlock and John.
“What’s that meaning?” Sherlock now asked, since John was too busy.
“I do lots of running and lifting.” (Name) told him, “work related.”
“You still going to work for the police?” John handed his friend his tea, sitting on the sofa with Sherlock.
“I don’t know if the England police force have a Läufer department.” (Name) sighed as he sipped his tea.
“What’s the runners department?” Sherlock asked, (Name) looking up at the brunet.
“I was responsible for running after the criminals, so to say. Kind of unofficial job. Got to places the police couldn’t and stuff like that.” (Name) said.
“Interesting.” Sherlock pondered as John cleared his throat.
“You moving back into your old flat?” John changed the subject.
“Yes. Already have an advance for it, that’s what they wanted.” (Name) said while rubbing his face, still feeling jetlagged. “Damn, I’m tired.”
“Could you not sleep on the flight?” John asked in concern.
“No, child kicking the back of my seat and screaming something about the ‘Llamas with Hats’ YouTube series the entire time. Hate that series it’s tedious and dried out.”
“Bloody awful. Sorry to hear it.”
“Eh, it’ll be fine. I just hope I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed soon.”
“Why did you move to Switzerland?” Sherlock piped up, wanting to be included.
“Wanting to get away from problems. It worked pretty much, except someone was starting to stir things up so I had to bolt before I got in the middle of it.” (Name) informed, the both of them nodding. “What do you two do for work again? You’re a consulting detective, Sherlock?” (Name) asked as he crossed one leg over the other.
“Yes, I step in when the police can’t figure it out, which is all the time.” Sherlock said with his hands pressed together under his chin, “you’re a freerunner?” John looked at Sherlock in question.
“Yes. I run rooftops and scale walls. Reason why I was so important to the Catonal police forces. I worked with the FEDPOL as well.” (Name) said while finishing his tea, as Ms. Hudson came up the stairs with groceries.
“Hello boys- OH! Are you with a client? Sorry about that lads.” Ms. Hudson ducked away into the kitchn, opening the fridge and screaming, making (Name) jump up in an instant as the fridge door was closed.
“Ma’am are you alright?” (Name) asked in a serious tone as (Name) walked up to the shaken lady.
“Yes, but I’d advise to not open the fridge. Sherlock! Get that..” She furiously pointed at the fridge multiple times as she thought up a term, “THING out of my fridge!”
“It’s important for an experiment, Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock answered.
“For heaven’s sake, buy a seperate fridge for your experiments!” She shouted at Sherlock, before turning to (Name), “thank you so much for the concern, excuse me.” Mrs. Hudson left promptly at that, leaving (Name) to stare at the fridge in question before returning to his seat.
“Is there a head in the fridge?” John asked.
“Yes.” Sherlock answered.
“What were we talking about?” John cleared his throat.
“I believe it was on work.” (Name) said as he settled into a comfy position.
A phone dinged, both Sherlock and (Name) checking their phones at the same time, (Name) telling the two he had to leave to sort something about his flat, leaving in a hurry. John and (Name) planned to go to the pub nearby later in the evening though to catch up more, Sherlock inviting himself mentally as the door closed firmly behind (Name).
“Don’t say a word. I don’t care if he owns three cats, is vegan, or whatever you deduced from him.” John said while getting up from his seat to go back to his work on the blog.
“I don’t have anything for him.” John froze in his tracks.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s like Irene Adler. I looked at him, and there was nothing I could tell about them.” He said, “interesting!” This is exciting! I want to see more of this ‘(Name)’ character.” He clapped his hands together.
“How could you tell he was a freerunner then?” John asked.
“Scars on hands, arms, great athletic build. He said he was able to reach places police could not; it was from simple deduction. Really, I thought it was blatantly obvious to you.”
“I already knew he was a freerunner, he told me ten years ago.” John huffed out.
“Wonder what else this ‘(Name)’ does..”
“Oh no. No, no, no. You’re not going to go around and play with (Name). He’s had it really rough these past years, and I’m not gonna let you torment him.”
“I won’t torment him, think better of me John.” His hands were pressed together under his chin again, “he moved from Switzerland you said?”
“Yeah, though he’s from Wales.”
“Welsh? Interesting. I think I will come with you tonight to the pub.”
“Sherlock, let me and (Name) reconnect.” John sighed.
“That’s boring. I’ve been cooped up in this flat with no exciting cases.” He threw himself onto the couch, “unless you want me to start firing at the wall again, I suggest you let me come with.” Knowing that Sherlock was being serious about shooting another smiley face into the wall, John agreed.
A couple hours later from that encounter, when the sun was setting, John threw on his jacket and hailed a taxi. He rode to the pub him and his old mate were meeting at. It was a bit of a mess, trying to find his friend in the crowd of drunk partiers. He felt someone grab his arm and pull him out of the crowd, John throwing a punch to the attacker, seeing it was Sherlock himself. The taller male told his friend that he would be helping Lestrade after making a quip on the punch he just received, but promised he would return to antagonize him and his friend, then pointed John to where his friend was waiting with a whiskey, looking utterly bored as the ice floated in the drink. When John looked back to talk to Sherlock, he was gone, so he sat at the table where his friend was.
“Sorry, got lost in the crowd.” He admitted, (Name) blowing it off.
“It’s alright. It’s congested in here. Wanna pubhop like we did before we became adults?” He asked, John smiling at (Name)’s words.
They’d knock down a couple drinks, then leave the pub and move to another one. John thought’d it be smart to tell his detective friend of their antics, so he wouldn’t be angry later. Sending a quick text, they walked the streets and look for any place that served booze. The final joint they landed in was a quaint, small pub on the end of town. The atmosphere was calming, painted on the outside a brilliant red, impossible to miss. The sign read ‘Props to the Hops’, with two pints of beer bubbling on the sign in 2-D art. They entered the bar and sat at a table on the side, settling in and stripping off their coats, calling over a rather busty waitress, who was trying to obviously get the men’s attention, since she acted sultry and sexy when she talked. Though the both of them disregarded her, (Name) got on the subject of telling old stories from work from John’s curiosity.
“That’s when the man started swinging, but of course he accidentally punched in the window of the van that was his escape car and cut up his knuckles to a bloody hell. The man screamed out and I was able to subdue him. The escape car got away, so I had to run after that. Sprained my ankle and fell off the roof I was running across, but I was able to land in a dumpster to cushion my fall. I hopped out and wheeled the dumpster at the exit of the alley and the van crashed into it, airbags knocked the man out.” (Name) told John over a fruity mixed drink.
“Bloody incredible.” John said as he drank his pint, “I remember when we were kids you often messed up your ankle.” John commented.
“Still do it.” (Name) laughed. “Where’d your friend go?”
“Sherlock? I think he went to help Lestrade with a case.” John said, (Name) nodding.
“Is Lestrade a good man?”
“Yeah, Greg’s alright.”
“That’s good. I’m glad that you’re connecting with others. You were such an unsocial kid.” (Name) said as he finished his drink.
“Don’t need to remind me.” John groaned, though he wore a smile.
“It’s chill. I never really made friends in Switzerland. I kept to myself mostly.” (Name) confessed, “so, tell me about Sherlock, your flatmate. Interesting man, eyeballing me the entire time, apparently likes to keep heads in the fridge.”
“Sherlock is a peculiar character, but my best friend. He’s blunt, to the point, and no one really knows what he’s thinking about.”
“I could tell.” (Name) nodded, “his ass is great though.”
“What the hell?” John sputtered.
“I was looking, no intention of touching, unless he lets me.” He laughed as John scolded him, telling him to ‘keep it in his pants’. “John you’re riled up so easily! You need to calm down. We’ll have another round.” (Name) called out to a waitress picking up their empty glasses, watching her sashay away trying to get the attention of one of the men, “little does that woman know I am strictly homosexual.”
“Yes, I think most of the world knows that though. She’s one of the unlucky ones it seems.”
John had about 5 beers until he was starting to get shitfaced. They capped his drinks, and (Name) just paid their bill and left with John pressed into his side, singing the national anthem. (Name) used his weight to support the other as he swung around, saying how much he loved (Name) and pressing a loud and obnoxious kiss to the others cheek. His friend laughed though and muttered a ‘love you too my dude’ while making sure he isn’t too loud to wake up the sleeping residents of London. No taxis would pick up the drunk Watson and friend, so (Name) had to walk himself along with his friend to Baker Street, feeling like he would have whiplash from John’s tripping and pulling his friend along with his potential falls. The both of them finally reached 221B Baker Street, (Name) fishing the keys from John’s pockets and unlocking the flat. He walked his friend to his bed and dropped him onto the mattress, leaving the keys on the bedside table. He helped his friend out of his loafers and belt, leaving him to undress himself, quickly falling asleep in the bed. (Name) checked the clock in the sitting room, seeing it was a quarter past midnight.
“You and John have fun?” (Name)’s instincts went to aiming his gun at the man on the couch, though lowered his weapon seeing it was Sherlock, “trigger finger?”
“My field of work required a trigger finger, I apologise.” (Name) said, lowering his weapon, “and we did. I hope you didn’t feel like you weren’t able to come along.”
“Oh, I was bust helping Lestrade with some case. Cracked in in 20 seconds. Child’s play.” Sherlock bounced up from his sat and started to circle the other, evaluating him. “You’ve piqued my interest. Normally I can read people like a book, but you. You are an entirely different experience. I thought I had you figured out, but then all of a sudden everything changed.”
“Part of the job description.”
“Since when is having the inability to be read apart of a law enforcement’s job description?” He asked while facing the male, stepping forward as if an intimidation.
“Who said it was for the police?” (Name) said with a smug smile, Sherlock letting himself smile as (Name) had his hands behind his back, “maybe I did more than run around the Swiss streets and catch criminals. Thought you’d be smarter than that.”
“Now you’re really catching my eye, (Name).” Sherlock rolled the name off the tongue, as (Name) stepped closer to the other.
“I hope you enjoy whatever you find out, because I’ll be doing the same for you. Let’s play.” Each word he said made his face draw closer to the other’s, until their lips were barely touching. Though (Name) gently pushed the other back, walking to the door, “I hope you have a nice rest.” He said, closing the door behind him as a paper fluttered to the ground from Sherlock’s chest.
Sherlock picked up the scrap of paper, seeing it was a phone number. The initials were (your initials), making Sherlock smile as he went to go finish his severed head experiment.
A couple days later after the declaration of his and (Name)’s game, Sherlock found a somewhat interesting case for him and John, hoping it’d save himself from the boredom succumbing him. He went to John about the case, though John immediately turned him down.
“Sherlock, I can’t go. I have to help Mary out with the nursery today.” John told Sherlock when he was being invited to chase a killer.
“Who am I going to go with then?” He asked, “the nursery can wait.”
“The nursery an, but not Mary. I have an idea. Ask (Name), he’s into that sort of stuff.” John said, “phone him up and ask. So it now!’ John shooed him away as he got ready to leave.
“I thought you didn’t want me toying with your precious mate.” Sherlock quipped.
“He won’t leave me alone about you, because you caught his attention. Have fun dealing with his antics.”
“Oh course he’s interested, I’m the most interesting one out of this entire show.” He said.
Shooting a quick message to the male, he heard the door close signalling John’s departure. Within minutes, Sherlock got a reply agreeing to what he was proposing, and told (Name) to meet him at his flat. The brunette didn’t have to wait long, hearing the knocks on his door a few minutes after receiving his reply. Sherlock stepped out of his flat and was welcomed with the face of (Name) wearing practically the same outfit he wore when they first met. Same long coat, same boots and pants, the only thing being different is the mustard yellow jumper with a black shirt peeking out from the collar of the jumper. (Name) had his hands in his coat pockets as he looked at the detective.
“Where do, detective Holmes?” (Name) asked with a smile, though it didn’t stay there long as he rolled his shoulder.
“Crime scene.” He said as he walked ahead, (Name) able to keep up with his pace, “they can’t find a weapon, but it’s obvious that he was shot. No bullet casings, no bullet. Some chap named Elliot Henderson is the victim. Lives alone in a one story home, no social skills, avid porn watcher. Only had two friends, dropped out of university, and was highly allergic to soy.” Sherlock told, (Name) nodding.
“The name is familiar, I will admit.” (Name) said, though shook the thought, “maybe it’s because I saw his name in the obituaries.” He shrugged.
“We’ll see once we see the body.” Sherlock said as he hailed a taxi.
The taxi ride was silent as (Name) chewed on the knuckle of his middle finger. Sherlock eyed the behaviour from the corner of his eye, deducing it was a subconscious habit he developed at a young age. The two got out of the taxi and walked to the crime scene surrounded by police cruisers. Someone lifted up the yellow tape for Sherlock to duck under, though stopped (Name).
“Crime scene, no public can enter.”
“Anderson he’s with me.” Sherlock said as (Name) slipped past the man, standing next to Sherlock as he crouched beside the body, (Name)’s eyes scanning the gunshot wound. Sherlock was talking to Lestrade, as (Name)’s eyebrows raised.
“I don’t think this is a gunshot wound.” (Name) said while being handed some gloves from Sherlock.
“Talk to me about it then.” Sherlock said beside (Name).
“What do you mean it isn’t a gunshot wound?” Lestrade asked.
“I’ve seen a case like this. No bullet, gunpowder residue, but the wound from a gun.” (Name) delicately stepped over the body as he put on his gloves, “no sign of a struggle.” He murmured, looking around on the ground carefully, looking up at Sherlock when he got up to walk around the body, “Sherlock don’t move!” Sherlock froze as (Name) shooed his foot away, picking up a sphere.
“A marble?” Lestrade asked.
“It’s a hunk of lead carved to a sphere. Obviously, this is the murder weapon. Well, a piece of it. He was killed by a fatal blow of a slingshot.” (Name) said.
“How could a slingshot kill a man?” Donovan asked the male, with disbelief in her tone.
“If the force and speed is powerful enough, it can do serious damage.” (Name) said, Sherlock smiling.
“John was right about you being intelligent. He’s right. Now we have to find the bloke behind the slingshot and we’ll have this wrapped up.” Sherlock said, as Lestrade was holding open a bag for evidence as (Name) dropped the blood-stained metal bearing in the bag.
“I like this guy more than Sherlock; he isn’t an asshole about his findings.” Anderson said.
“I like it when you keep quiet so I can think, Anderson.” Sherlock said, “we’ll go hunt down the killer. Let’s go.” Sherlock walked away from the scene dumping his gloves into a bin, (Name) doing the same.
“We going to his work or his home first?”
“His work first.” A taxi was whistled for, “he worked at a business firm that made greeting cards. It’s across London, in Hampstead.” Sherlock said, telling the cabbie the address. “He really was a lonely man if he wrote greeting cards.”
“I use to write greeting cards. Made lots of money.” (Name) said as Sherlock looked to the male to his left.
“Oh. Were you lonely at that time?”
“Nope. Social life was pretty great. Made lots of greetings in the day and went partying at night. At-home job most of the time.”
“Interesting.”
The two reached the greeting card company. (Name) held his car door open for Sherlock as (Name) looked around the area, seeing one of the windows had what looked like a new cover-up for a smashed in window on the first floor. The sign was newly painted, probably 5 years ago that read Thorecords Cards in an blocky font. The parking lot to the left was pretty filled, as (Name) walked ahead inside the company. They approached the receptionist’s desk, who was under the age of 30 for sure. She had bobbed brown hair and a black pencil skirt accompanied with a dark pink blouse, a name pin reading ‘Phoebe’ on her blouse. Sherlock began reading the female as (Name) grabbed the lady’s attention.
“Hello, Phoebe. My associate and I are here about a man who unfortunately passed away earlier this week. We came here to see if we can find anything in his office space that can help us figure out the circumstances of his murder.” (Name) said, the female directing all her attention to the male, who spoke confidently. Sherlock could tell the female was into men who were confident when they spoke and presented themselves proudly, which was what (Name) was doing.
“Oh yes, that is perfectly alright, Mr…”
“(Last name), (Last name) (Name), though you can call me (Name).” He said with a smile as Phoebe smiled herself bashfully, getting up to lead the two men to where Elliot use to work. He noticed that he worked on the first floor, and his cubicle was where the broken window was, making (Name) gesture at the window with his head as Sherlock looked at it.
“What happened to the window?” (Name) asked the receptionist.
“Someone threw a brick into the window about two days ago. We couldn’t get a replacement for the window until Thursday, so Elliot just taped a garbage bag to it saying it was no big deal.”
“You still have the brick? Any suspects to the one who threw it?” (Name) asked, Sherlock snooping in Elliot’s desk.
“A note.” Sherlock said, handing the note to (Name), which was covered in different symbols that were unfamiliar to the two.
“Code.” (Name) said, “suspect for the brick thrower?”
“Elliot did mention there was a note on the brick, though he said he tossed it. We didn’t know who threw it.”
“Thank you Phoebe. Were you and Elliot close at all?” Sherlock resumed his rummaging, logging into his laptop and successfully entering the correct password after two attempts.
“No, we rarely talked. He gave me flowers though on occasion, and went to the pub sometimes.” She said, trying to see what Sherlock was doing, but (Name) scooted a bit to the left to block the screen from her eyes.
“Did he have any bad experiences with anyone in the building?”
“It isn’t just him, but there are a lot of employees who hate a certain mate here by the name of Ali Benton.” Phoebe pointed at an empty cubicle, “they work there.”
“Thank you Phoebe. I think my associate and I can handle it from here.” (Name) said, the female leaving. (Name) stood next to Sherlock and leaned in to the screen. “What’d you find?”
“Emails with the same symbols of the note.” Sherlock said as he pointed at the screen.
“Strange. They’re probably a threat. Who sent the email?”
Who are you two lads?” A male with blond hair asked wearing a pink polo and dark brown khakis.
“Private investigators. We’re here on the account of Elliot’s death.” (Name) said, looking at the new character. “What can you tell me about Elliot?”
Ali and (Name) talked as Sherlock read through any other personals on the computer, finding what he wanted. (Name) got some info out of Ali as well, which would be helpful for figuring out the murderer. He leaked some info that tied himself to the murder as well. (Name) and Sherlock left after that, walking back to Sherlock’s flat to try to crack the code. They shared what information they gathered, mulling over the facts with soft music playing in the background.
“How’d you meet John?” Sherlock asked as (Name) was reading a book, looking up from the text to look at the male.
“We attended the same high school together.” He said, continuing his reading.
“Have you ever felt any romantic attraction to him? You seem awful touchy with him.”
“Had a crush on him, but it went away as soon as we became friends. Wouldn’t have worked out. I’m touchy with all my friends, forewarning.” (Name) said, writing something down off to the side. "Why’re you interested?”
“Curious, that’s all.”
“You have a crush on him too?” He asked, smiling when Sherlock looked at the other distastefully. “I already know, no need to answer. I figured out the code, their numbers written in Hebrew, each number represents a letter.” He passed the notebook he worked in to Sherlock. “‘EXPECT HIM TO PUNISH YOU SOON. DO NOT RUN. HE WILL FIND YOU.’, I’m going to assume that ‘him’ is our killer. We need to find out what he was being ‘punished’ for.”
“I have a photo of the first email Elliot received with the code in it. If we need to, we can head back out to factory and nab the rest of the emails” Sherlock handed the male his phone, watching him as he translated the email.
Sherlock observed how he worked with dragging his tongue over the bottom of the top row of teeth, though it wasn’t obvious unless you really watched him. He shook his leg while working sometimes too, or rubbed his calf on his leg. He usually had tea when he worked, but sometimes he was so in thought it’d cool before he could even take his first drink, making a disgusted look at the cold tea as if it wasn’t his negligence being the meaning behind the taste. (Name)’s eyes were focused as he read the words on the pages, sometimes wearing a look of concern, confusion, or excitement when figuring something out. His lips were slightly parted, but his teeth were closed, and it didn’t seem that he noticed, or he just didn’t care. He was relaxed, back was slightly hunched over, though never straightened it out. A hand would rub his lower back, but that’s really all the movement he would make.
“Cracked it.”
The male voiced suddenly. Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts, looking at the male as he explained everything, telling the brunette that he knew where to find the killer. He wasn’t boisterous about his findings, just happy that he could help. He started to wrap up his materials, pocketing the notebook he worked in and collected up his jacket, Sherlock doing the same as they walked outside to feel the chilly air of London.
At that moment in time, Sherlock realized that this interest was deeper than he initially thought it’d be.

X X X X X

The next week and a half, the (Name)/Sherlock duo often went on adventures helping Lestrade with cases, or doing private investigations for people who come to Baker Street. John was both proud and scared of introducing the two cunning males and having them go off around London and meddle with others businesses. It was nice to hear Sherlock talk about the cases they went on though, as every night over tea Sherlock would retell the events of that night for the blog. There were times when Sherlock would ask John about some things he’s come to learn about (Name) that he’d have to assure him that they were genuine facts.
“There was a time where a man that worked for Stevens across the roof on the second building with the other bomb we were needing to take care of, and so he teased both (Name) and I on we’d never get there on time. (Name) ran to the building and jumped off the roof to the one Stevens’ accomplise was on and tackled him to the ground and threatened to hurt his family if he didn’t disarm the bomb. That’s how we both disarmed the bombs that would destroy two of the largest skyscrapers in London.”
“Seems like you really enjoy spending time with (Name). When will you take him on a proper date of not digging a body out of a river?” Sherlock looked at his flatmate with a questioning eyebrow.
“What do you mean John?”
“I’ve seen the way you continue to smile at him when he’s not looking. The way when you message them, you’re caught staring at your phone waiting for a response. The way where you look at him when either someone is talking to him, or he’s talking himself. When he replies to a message, you stare at the phone, read his message twice, but don’t put down the phone immediately.” John told, Sherlock was silent for a hot minute.
“Where would I even take him?” Sherlock asked next as John pulled out a small journal from his pocket and opened it, handing it to Sherlock once finding the right page.
“These are places girls I’ve dated have loved to go to, so take him to one.”
“These dates are plain.” Sherlock commented.
“Plain is sometimes good. Just choose a damn location and go ask him.” John said as he went back to writing. “I will say though that (Name) likes steak.”
Sherlock decided where to go and handed the book back to his friend, sending a message to (Name) as he looked at some slides under his microscope. When he realized that he hadn’t gotten a reply yet, he paused his viewing to read his phone, seeing that there was indeed no message from him yet, making him raise an eyebrow. He then decided to call the man, who picked up just before the voice mailbox started to talk.
“Sherlock? Hey- hold on a minute.” (Name) said, “I’m on the phone please leave me alone for a bit!” He said to someone in the background, “sorry, what’s up?”
Sherlock in that moment realized that he had never honestly asked someone out on a date. He was a lonely child, so he kept to himself or Mycroft. He thought his words over, (Name) asking if the other was on the call still from the moment of silence.
“Are you interested in doing to dinner tonight?” Sherlock asked, (Name) making a yelp on his line, shouting at someone, then turning back to the phone.
“I thought’d you never ask.” Sherlock could hear the smile in the other’s voice. “Meet you at 7, I presume.”
“That’s good for me.” Sherlock said, a clang and an angry shout from (Name)’s side. Before Sherlock could ask if everything was alright, the call ended abruptly.
“You ask him?” John said, sitting in his recliner with a cup of tea.
“Yes.” Sherlock said.
“He say yes?”
“Of course he did, it’s me afterall.”
“Have fun tonight.”
When 7PM finally came around, (Name) walked the chilly streets of London wearing his usual coat, black dress shirt, black pants, and dark brown dress shoes. His hair blew around the breeze, as he messaged his dinner date of the night donning fingerless gloves. He felt eyes on him as he walked, but made no mention of it. He knew his natural instincts would kick in if the need of drawing his firearm was needed, but he really hoped it wouldn’t come to it. He popped up the collar of his coat, since the cold air whipping the nape of his neck and ears were unbearable. He finally reached Sherlock’s flat, banging the knocker twice as he exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. After checking the watch on the inside of his wrist, he realized that no one answered him yet, and he knocked 3 minutes ago. He shivered as he looked around, seeing a rather extravagant car pull up, Sherlock stepping out of the car with a smile, making (Name) look at the male with a glare, though his lips wore a smile.
“It is bloody freezing out, and you show up with this? It better have heating so help me Sherlock.” He said, though was happy to see the other male.
“I assure you that it wasn’t my intention to be late.” He said, guiding (Name) to the back seats of the car, climbing in after (Name) was in the car, and the car pulled from the curb.
“He owe you a favour?” He said, in reference to the driver, since (Name) was learning how Sherlock played.
“No. His boss did though. Otherwise known as my brother.”
“What did you do for Mycroft for him to be in your debt?” He said with a cunning smirk.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” He said with a straight face, though his eyes were smiling. “What happened earlier on the phone? There was a loud bang, and your line dropped.”
“Oh.” (Name) was silent for a few ticks, “my cat knocked over a pot. Rascal is a curious feline.”
“I see.” He nodded, watching the car approach the restaurant they’d be eating at.
The two of them exited the car and entered the restaurant, the driver telling Sherlock what time he’s return as he drove off, the both of them enter the establishment. They were welcomed with a warm environment, where the chattering was murmured at every table, tables lit with candles with roses in water. They were seated where a large window was to their right, being handed menus. They both thanked the waiter as they were presented with what wine they’d be having that evening and taking their coats (along with Sherlock’s scarf), the waiter disappearing to tend to another table.
“This place sure seems too pretty for my wallet.” (Name) joked, with a smile as he read the menu.
“All you buy tonight is already covered.” Sherlock said, making (Name)’s eyes look up from the menu and into Sherlock’s own blue eyes.
“Can I buy the restaurant then?” He said, both of them smiling.
“I wish. Sadly that isn’t covered.”
WHen the waiter came back around, they ordered their food, and joked among themselves while waiting and drinking wine.
“I heard you were Welsh.” Sherlock said with his hands under his chin as (Name) nodded.
“Yep. I lived there until I was 11. I ran away and boarded some random train to escape, woke up in London.” He said as he sipped his wine.
“I wouldn’t have ever guessed. Your accent is completely gone. You don’t even have the dialect of a Welsh.”
“Yeah, I taught myself to conform.” He said, “what about your home life?
“I had Mycroft, and we were incredibly bright children, stuck together since we were targets for lots of bullying.” Sherlock said.
“THose bitches were just jealous.” He said rather serious, as they received their food.
“I know. Being normal is so boring.”
“How are you enjoying your night?” A man came out of nowhere to question. Sherlock looked the man up and down, noticing the black ink tattoo on his ankle of a compass needle, but no directionals.
“It’s good, thank you sir- Oh bloody hell!” (Name) called out as the man splashed (Name)’s wine on his lap accidentally.
“I am so sorry sir!” The man took the white handkerchief he had in his breast pocket and began to clean off (Name), (Name) telling him off and excusing himself to take care of the mess in the bathrooms.
He dabbed the wine off his pants with water, hearing another man enter the bathroom.
“Bad night for you, huh?” The new man who entered asked.
“Yep.” He got out the stains luckily, washing his hands, leaving the bathroom.
“Sorry about that.” (Name) seated himself in front of Sherlock again as he began eating again.
“It’s alright. Did you notice the male’s tattoo?”
“It’s strange, I’ll admit. Then again I have no room to talk since I have a few tattoos of my own that look strange to others.” (Name) said.
“Like what?” (Name) rolled up his sleeve to show a small tattoo of what looked like a voice wavelength.
“It’s the wavelength of my brother saying ‘I love you’. He passed a few years ago.” He told.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sherlock said as (Name) rolled down his other sleeve since it was a bit warm inside.
“It’s alright. On his left arm he has the same tattoo of me saying ‘forever and always thinking of you’. We got them when we were I think 22.”
“That’s a beautiful message to have with you forever.” Sherlock said, (Name)’s eyes looking distant as he stared at the table.
“(Name)?” Sherlock looked at a female who called out his name, a rather beautiful blonde asked with a pink velvet dress hugging her form. She had a mole under one of her striking blue eyes.
“Oh no.” (Name) said as he looked at the female, who ran over to him and hugged his face into her breasts.
“My love! I’ve missed you so!” She said happily, practically suffocating Sherlock’s date in her chest as he watched the male that dumped wine on the male made (Name) stand on his feet.
“Let go of me.” He said calmly, twisting out of the male’s grip. Some people in the establishment looked at the event unfolding.
“You’re supposed to be marrying Hanni here, but you’re having dinner with this poof!” The male screamed in his face, (Name) remaining as calm as he could muster.
“I told you that I’m not marrying Hanni because I don’t love her. I’m not going to be forced to marry someone I have not an inkling of attraction to. You should know me by now, Gianin” He said standing his ground.
Gianin grabbed (Name) by his shirt and thrown onto the table, Hanni screaming in horror as Sherlock jumped p to pull the male off (Name). Another male came and pulled Sherlock off Gianin as the Swiss male punched (Name) in the face. (Name) cursed in Welsh as he grabbed the steak knife he was eating with and left a nasty cut in Gianin’s cheek, kicking the man off him and helping Sherlock with the thug on him. Sherlock grabbed the chair he use to sit out and hit Gianin in the face with it, as people in the restaurant took photos or ran out of the doors. When the male that attacked Sherlock pulled a gun on the brunett, (name) pulled out his own pistol on the second Swiss male.
“I suggest you lower your gun, Enno.” (Name) said, his eyes swirling with bloodlust. The entire restaurant was quiet with anticipation.
Lestrade and Donovan burst into the restaurant, making Enno and Gianin look at the cops, (Name) firing two bullets to Enno’s chest, making him fall back as Gianin was pistol-whipped unconscious. An ambulance took Enno away, and they handcuffed Gianin while he was out cold on the ground, pulling him into the cruiser. Both Sherlock and (Name) sat at the second ambulance they brought with them, being handed shock blankets. (Name) walked over to the shivering Hanni and draped his shock blanket on her shoulders, smiling at her kindly as she hugged the male, weeping. Calming her down the best he could muster, he returned to Sherlock, where Sherlock moved his shock blanket so the both of them could be sheltered from the cold air. (Name)’s body was pressed into Sherlock’s as the cold Autumn air whistled.
“That was an interesting turn of events. Is this the other job you had in Switzerland?” Sherlock asked.
“I was in a gang of sorts. Didn’t want to marry in the family since I did it as a timewaster, so I left.” He shrugged, “is it ad that this is one of the best dates I’ve ever had?” He asked Sherlock while looking up at him, as a cut on his face from Gianin’s rings bled.
“No, because it was the best for me so far.” Sherlock smiled, (Name) smiling as well as (Name) pressed a kiss to the other’s lips, Sherlock cupping (name)’s face and reciprocating the kiss.
“Sherlock! (Name)!” They pulled away hearing the scared shouts of John, who ran out of a taxi and up to the two, “it was one date, how the hell did you two fuck up this badly?” He asked.
“Danger is attracted to us like magnets, I suppose.” (Name) smiled, as under the blankets, Sherlock’s hand was found in (Name)’s.

X X X X X

After that night, the two were inseparable.
Not because they were scarred for life from the events that unfolded that day.
But for the thought of them being apart just broke the two of them.
Sherlock and (Name) were on their sofa, legs tangled together as a movie played on the tv. Though neither of them payed attention to it. A cat sat on the arm of the sofa napping, as it slowly fell off and onto Sherlock’s lap, Sherlock stroking the cat as (name) showed the male cat memes.
“Isn’t it crazy we had our first date three years ago on this day?” Sherlock asked, looking at the male.
“The same date we were attacked by a Swiss Mob family? How could that possibly be crazy?” (Name) asked as he tangled his legs in Sherlock’s.
“You sure are awful sassy today.” Sherlock quipped, the cat in his lap being moved as Sherlock laid his body on (Name)’s, his face on the others chest.
“Yeah, well I was up all night writing as someone slept cuddling my knee. You said you’d stay up all night with me, but in reality you sleep more than Tofu.” Tofu, the chubby white cat they owned cracked open an eye, his tail swishing as it sat on the coffee table, the energetic orange tabby Rascal trying to make Tofu play with him.
“Don’t compare me to our fat cat child.” Sherlock said, dragging his significant other to his eye level, pressing a kiss to his lips with a smile, (Name) smiling into the kiss as well.
“I swear, sometimes I wonder why I married you.” (Name) joked, “I do love you though Sherlock. Despite you being a royal pain in the ass sometimes.” At the word ‘ass’, (Name) proceeded to give Sherlock’s ass a firm squeeze.
“And you aren’t? Our marriage is built on sass, case solving, sex, and you sharing cat memes.” Sherlock said, (Name) smiling this time.
“Well, sass is my forte, I love cats, and sex is great.” (Name) grinned, as the couple kissed once more.
The rain poured outside, the streets were silent. The wedding bands on their ring fingers glistened in the light as the night dragged on. The two were happy and contempt with their lives, grateful for John for bringing them together. Now they live together and solve cases for the public, along with taking care of their two furry children Tofu and Rascal. They were peaceful.
For once, both of them thought that they finally did something right for once.