Sherlock advent stories Dec. 7: Peppermint
Title: Peppermint
rating: Teen (word usage)
characters: Sherlock and John
a/n:I got a second part written tonight! Rejoice! And again it is fluff, which has been happening more than I expected, but I'm okay with it. I may, by miracle, have a third part up later, but again I am making no promises. Thank goodness the new trailer inspired my muse to write.
AO3 link
Peppermint
Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table when John walked in to make his morning cup of tea. Papers were spread all about the detective, his head bowed low over the microscope with an empty mug next to his bent elbow. It had been a late night spent at Bart's with a new corpse and a distraught detective inspector.
“Did you sleep at all?” John asked when he placed a new cup of tea where the empty mug had been. Sherlock took no notice of the hot beverage as he switched slides.
“It slows me down,” Sherlock answered distractedly. “We are getting closer if our last encounter was anything to go by.”
“A bit too close,” John mumbled as he made toast with jam. He had woken with an upset stomach and hoped the light breakfast would help ease the nausea. Sherlock looked up from his microscope, his eyes taking in all of John's appearance.
“Stupid,” Sherlock whispered harshly. For a moment John had thought the comment was directed toward him, but the detective was no longer watching him. “I forgot to feed you last night.”
“I am a grown man Sherlock. It's you who forgets to eat and sleep,” John reminded him, not that it would do any good. The toast and tea helped him to relax as he watched Sherlock work. Occasionally the young man would hum to himself and John recognized a tune or two from when the detective would play his violin late at night. If Sherlock was humming then perhaps he was further along on the case than he had realized and it would be over soon. Hope, though, could be a dangerous thing.
“Lestrade texted this morning with the identity of the young lady,” Sherlock spoke quietly. “She worked with Daniel Hamilton. Ellie Livingston.”
“What did they do exactly?” John asked. How could someone that young get caught up in such a tangled web of political deceit. It was one thing for Lord Hamilton to get involved in selling weapons to terrorist groups in Africa, but to involve his own son was unforgivable. Now there was the girl, Ellie Livingston, mixed up with it also.
“Their files say that they worked the campaign for his father, but I rather think it went it bit deeper than that, don't you?” John had to agree, but it didn't make him happy to do so.
“What do we do now?” Sherlock pushed all his papers into a messy stack near his slides before disappearing into his bedroom. John watched him from where he was leaning against the counter eating his toast. Before long the detective appeared and handed John a candy cane.
“Peppermint will make you feel better and we need to visit Lestrade at his office before we take a ride to the country,” Sherlock's lips tilted up at the edge. “I know how car rides occasionally make you ill.” John barely kept his mouth from falling open when Sherlock had made the comment about his car sickness, but it shouldn't have surprised him.
“If you keep your driving to normal standards, than I'll be fine. I might take a cup of peppermint tea just in case,” John spoke to himself as he shuffled around the kitchen to find a cup with a lid.
“My driving is perfectly fine,” Sherlock shot back but John ignored him. If the wanker thought driving three times faster than the posted limit was acceptable, then he could just bugger off without him. Going back to bed didn't seem like such a bad idea really, but he couldn't let Sherlock harass the poor officers at the Yard nor any witnesses he deemed important to speak to personally.
“You are a full time job and responsibility,” John grumbled as he finished making his tea. “But I wouldn't have it any other way.” Sherlock huffed as he put on his belstaff and blue scarf, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips again.
rating: Teen (word usage)
characters: Sherlock and John
a/n:I got a second part written tonight! Rejoice! And again it is fluff, which has been happening more than I expected, but I'm okay with it. I may, by miracle, have a third part up later, but again I am making no promises. Thank goodness the new trailer inspired my muse to write.
AO3 link
Peppermint
Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table when John walked in to make his morning cup of tea. Papers were spread all about the detective, his head bowed low over the microscope with an empty mug next to his bent elbow. It had been a late night spent at Bart's with a new corpse and a distraught detective inspector.
“Did you sleep at all?” John asked when he placed a new cup of tea where the empty mug had been. Sherlock took no notice of the hot beverage as he switched slides.
“It slows me down,” Sherlock answered distractedly. “We are getting closer if our last encounter was anything to go by.”
“A bit too close,” John mumbled as he made toast with jam. He had woken with an upset stomach and hoped the light breakfast would help ease the nausea. Sherlock looked up from his microscope, his eyes taking in all of John's appearance.
“Stupid,” Sherlock whispered harshly. For a moment John had thought the comment was directed toward him, but the detective was no longer watching him. “I forgot to feed you last night.”
“I am a grown man Sherlock. It's you who forgets to eat and sleep,” John reminded him, not that it would do any good. The toast and tea helped him to relax as he watched Sherlock work. Occasionally the young man would hum to himself and John recognized a tune or two from when the detective would play his violin late at night. If Sherlock was humming then perhaps he was further along on the case than he had realized and it would be over soon. Hope, though, could be a dangerous thing.
“Lestrade texted this morning with the identity of the young lady,” Sherlock spoke quietly. “She worked with Daniel Hamilton. Ellie Livingston.”
“What did they do exactly?” John asked. How could someone that young get caught up in such a tangled web of political deceit. It was one thing for Lord Hamilton to get involved in selling weapons to terrorist groups in Africa, but to involve his own son was unforgivable. Now there was the girl, Ellie Livingston, mixed up with it also.
“Their files say that they worked the campaign for his father, but I rather think it went it bit deeper than that, don't you?” John had to agree, but it didn't make him happy to do so.
“What do we do now?” Sherlock pushed all his papers into a messy stack near his slides before disappearing into his bedroom. John watched him from where he was leaning against the counter eating his toast. Before long the detective appeared and handed John a candy cane.
“Peppermint will make you feel better and we need to visit Lestrade at his office before we take a ride to the country,” Sherlock's lips tilted up at the edge. “I know how car rides occasionally make you ill.” John barely kept his mouth from falling open when Sherlock had made the comment about his car sickness, but it shouldn't have surprised him.
“If you keep your driving to normal standards, than I'll be fine. I might take a cup of peppermint tea just in case,” John spoke to himself as he shuffled around the kitchen to find a cup with a lid.
“My driving is perfectly fine,” Sherlock shot back but John ignored him. If the wanker thought driving three times faster than the posted limit was acceptable, then he could just bugger off without him. Going back to bed didn't seem like such a bad idea really, but he couldn't let Sherlock harass the poor officers at the Yard nor any witnesses he deemed important to speak to personally.
“You are a full time job and responsibility,” John grumbled as he finished making his tea. “But I wouldn't have it any other way.” Sherlock huffed as he put on his belstaff and blue scarf, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips again.