A Very Spook Halloween, Sam and Gene!
"A Very Spook Halloween, Sam and Gene!"
Who: Sherlock, Peter Carlisle, Sam Tyler, Gene Hunt
Notes: About 6-8 months after most of the action in the Addicted Verse
John had gotten married
to that awful Mary person after all, even when he'd poured out his
shrunken, cold little heart to the other man. Even after they'd become
lovers. Evidently, it was for ( Read more... )
Who: Sherlock, Peter Carlisle, Sam Tyler, Gene Hunt
Notes: About 6-8 months after most of the action in the Addicted Verse
John had gotten married
to that awful Mary person after all, even when he'd poured out his
shrunken, cold little heart to the other man. Even after they'd become
lovers. Evidently, it was for ( Read more... )
Peter better be calling about that email. Seriously, Gene had sent that two days ago! What took so long?
"We're still in the honeymoon phase," Peter joked playfully, shrugging his shoulders. "Its the email Gene sent everyone, we're coming to Manchester. We're heading over today and staying in a hotel, courtesy of Mycroft."
Of course. Since when did Peter and Sherlock pay for anything themselves?
"I sent Gene a text with the details and when to meet us. Hopefully he'll have fun trying to read it. Hopefully he won't throw it out the window again! Anyway, we'll see you then but we're busy now, I'm having a pre flight snack and Sherlocks playing cat," Peter summed up, eager to keep this brief. They were talking through the cartoons!
Sherlock made a snorting sound and Sam sort of choked. He shrugged a little, though it wasn't as of Peter could see it. "All right." No thanks. He hadn't approved of hiring this outside detective like the Yard Lads did. He really didn't want to see Sherlock either. He still had nightmares are the woods. He still saw Stu...
Smirking, Sam tilted his head against the fridge and then went to get Gene up to check his phone.
"How is their sex life?" Sherlock asked, humming.
"How should I know? I'm not their therapist!" Peter complained... before realising that he accidentally said that into the phone. Hanging up, Peter dropped the phone on the sofa before sighing and stroking Sherlocks hair contently.
"They're not shagging though, Sams usually more defensive and breathless when he's shagging."
Peter didn't blame either of them, having Gene's brother rape Sam and then get shot by Gene as payback was not your typical events.
To be fair, Stewart had just told his goons to put the fear of God in Sam, anything short of killing him. They just... Went overboard. But Sam was having problems with it still. He couldn't get it up. But that was nothing he'd tell Peter. Never.
Sherlock lightly pressed his toes into the arm rest like cats did when pawing fabric and closed his eyes. Peter got to watch his cartoons in silence while Sherlock pondered why Gene and Sam had yet to get married and how bodies ended up in attractions.
It was time for their plane then and Sherlock ended up pissing off most ofthe flight attendants. He was so good at that.
Peter had never been more embarrassed to travel with Sherlock. He upset everyone, pissed off the flight attendants and Peter had to carry everything. By the time they sat down, Peter was shattered. Which is why, instead of using his mp3 player, he fell asleep on Sherlock.
Literally. He sort of tumbled onto Sherlock his head wasn't far from Sherlocks lap.
Course he had a killer neckache when he finally woke up, jumping back to life with a new sense of alertness. "What?! What's going on? Are we there? Sherlock, are we?"
"Airport. Manchester. Unless we were hijacked and taken somewhere else."
The loudspeaker on the plane confirmed, however, that they had landed at the proper place. Lucky for them. Sherlock collected himself and stood up, blocking the aisle until Peter joined him. For a moment, Shsrlock leaned his head against Peter's and exhaled.
"Let's go. They're waiting."
Peter straggled after Sherlock, carrying all the carry ons and-- well, just wait till they got the annoying luggage as well. He hurried along, looking around at all the sights of your typical Manchester airport... high class as ever, people were yelling, kids were running around and plenty of chavs around. Good indeed.
"Do you think they are?"
Well, he had to wander. Would they be there on time?
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Well Sam had missed him at least. They could grin at each other goofily. And Sherlock and Gene just nodded to each other.
"Did you bring the case files with you, Gene?""Always."
Gene tossed the casefile to Sherlock and simply pretended he didn't see the way his lover and his idiot friend were hugging so publicly. Honestly, it was pretty humiliating that they had to do this every time. It was deal-able when they were 10 but now? Come on guys!
"I would of text but I didn't know what to say... speaking of text, sorry about that one," Peter muttered to Sam, pulling back from the hug with a bright smile on his face. Oh the joys of friends. "So... halloween together again. I always loved when we spent halloween together!"
The last time they had Halloween together was... Well, then the younger trio was just seventeen, half a year before their big split up. Peter had gotten a date with a girl that Sherlock sabotaged, Gene had crashed the party and spiked the punch and then they pulled the fire alarm and Peter and Sherlock smoked in the field while Sherlock played the violin and Gene and Sam...well. Talked, likely. Those two were never very open about their feelings for one another at that point, even if Peter had heard them wanking each other off from time to time.
"You don't usually remember our Halloweens together," Sherlock pointed out, thumbing through the case file as he left the rest to Peter. Luckily, Sherlock travelled light. He had no additional suitcase. "I want to get started right--" Peter's stomach made him sigh. "--after Peter eats."
Peter remembered all their halloweens-- well, most. The ones from their older years were blurry. But he had such fond memories. He and Sam dressed up every year since nursery school and eventually do did Gene. Though it was always a cowboy. Always. But hey, his biggest achievement at Halloween was actually getting Sherlock to join in somehow.
Peter winced and offered Sherlock a small shrug before nodding. It was lucky he wasn't that hungry, he just grabbed a snackbar from the nearest shop and that pretty much did it for him.
"Thanks Sherlock, others don't usually consider my stomach!"
"I can't think properly when you just let it go," Sherlock grumbled. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. He had more food laying around the house than usual if only to keep Peter's stomach in line. Sometimes it was worse than Anderson's face. Oh, that was probably too cruel. He kept it to himself and paused, waiting for the other three to catch up with him. That took far more time than was really needed. "We need to head to three hotels to check in properly. And then if Peter wants, he can follow you two home."
Sam looked all right with that before he caught Gene's frown.
"Oh," the shortest of the lot said, "we could have drinks at the hotel bar. Which ever you plan on staying at."
"No," Sherlock groused. "One we won't be staying at. I've the gold card."
"I'm sticking by you," Peter muttered as he followed after Sherlock, he had to get used to Sherlock trying to dedicate and work out his movements but Sherlock couldn't predict him well as a child and he still couldn't. That was just it really. Peter just planned to stick beside the Doctor because that was all he really wanted to do here.
"Getting drinks would be nice," Peter suggested with a small smirk but, of course, he knew Sherlock would want to dive right into the case.
"Got booze at the flat," Gene muttered as they got outside, lighting up a fag right away. He had been on the brink of quitting before this whole mess with his brother and now?... Well, he was right back to polluting his lungs.
And Sam didn't say a damned thing...which made Sherlock frown slightly. And then hold out his hand for the expectant cigarette as well. Sherlock didn't smoke. But since John had moved out and teased him by popping up now and then to remind him of what it was like to be kissed and adored with too many strange strings attached, Sherlock was left with a wildly fluctuating addiction problem. Again.
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Once Gene handed over the cigarette, Sherlock glanced at Sam. "You're thinking about going to a doctor. Wrong type of doctor. Medication won't help that."
"Sherlock, lets not start a punch up," Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before lightly punching Sherlock in the arm. Honestly, what was he thinking? He didn't know what was wrong with Sam and he'd probably ask later but he really didn't want to start a fight.
Gene gave Sherlock a warning look before blowing smoke right towards him. Thats right, Gene and Sam just didn't dicuss problems anymore... talk about unhealthy but hey, it worked.
"Lets just get some drinks then get started on the case!" Peter remarked cheerfully, trying to keep everyone happily in denial while Sherlock amused himself and Peter just followed along.
No, it didn't work. Well, not true. It worked for Gene. Sam just hid it well. They were still close, but they'd sort of become more like friends. Like Peter and Sam were, just less touchy. It was a huge problem but neither would talk about it so nothing was getting done. At least they didn't fight. Not more than what normally came with working together or having just one television. Sam averted his eyes and Sherlock shrugged.
Someone needed to give him a booklet on what was and was not kind. He thought he was doing Sam a favour. He was good with the people with psychosomatic issues. Sam needed rape and accessory to murder counselling. Well, maybe just the former. The latter would put them in jail, though Sherlock was sure he'd get them off easily.
"Yes. Fine. Let's go."
It was very awkward, Sherlock obviously felt the need to poke into it, Sam seemed to be mixed between wanting to discuss it and not wanting to, Gene absolutely didn't and Peter was just trying to stay out of it. Really none of these were working much but hey, it was a nice balance when they were together, the perfect shade of awkward.
"So this haunted house? Is it just body parts or actual bodies?"
What? It was a legit conversation and Peter had yet to read the notes on the case. It was on his to-do list.
Sherlock hadn't managed to go through the file right away, but he hated to let Gene have the glory of telling it all. The man could just fill in the details. "Actual bodies. Sometimes limbs. Have you checked for entrails? Check the eyes... How many installations in each location are there? Are they shutting down afterwards?"
Inquiring minds wanted to know!
"Course they have to shut down, the place is full of bodes. We closed it off from the public, just for tonight, if we can get it sorted before Halloween, they'll just us some sweets," Which was, of course, Gene's main motivation. And it swiftly became Peters as well. They solved this case and got sweets? Goodie! He couldn't wait, he really couldn't. Unfrtunately this meant that if they didn't solve it soon, they'd have to work through Halloween in the ruddy park. So basically... they had a day. Not really possible but worth a shot.
"And there were bits of everything... and I mean everything."
Oh well--that might put them off sweets a bit.
"In your morgue now? Which hospital? Have they been identified-- No, don't answer the last one." Sherlock was extatic. This was exactly the case he needed to get over his rut without John and the way that man just seemed to move on so quickly. Sherlock turned, stopping traffic as he stared at Gene. It wasn't a contest, he was just trying to pick something up from him. "Oh, there's more. More that you're not telling me. That's not in the reports."
He tried not to giggle. It failed. No matter, out he went to the loading zone. Gene, of course, had parked there.
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"Well yeah, theres a lot more actual. Sam knows it better, he was actually pay attention. Something about the bloke that runs it buying them or ... selling them? Either way, organs are being thrown around the city as decoration."
He supposed that was a good business for Halloween.
"Oooh can we buy a lung?" Peter asked jokingly to Sherlock... hey, it would jazz up the flat!
"We don't need to buy anything. Just have Molly set one aside." And he was serious. There was a lot that could be done with a lung. They tended to liquify pretty quickly though. It made working with them a very delicate thing.
And then he realized that Peter wasn't serious. Oh well.
Sherlock turned his eerie pale gaze towards Sam, who pulled back immediately. "What?"
"The man buying those props. He's not really connected is he? No. Give me his number. I'll go to see him tomorrow. We only have the next two days to do this. I budgeted three. This will be interesting!"
"Just don't try to steal any organs Sherlock, we kind of have enough imn the fridge. Speaking of which, the ear has gone off," yes, they had a human ear in the fridge and it was starting to go blue. It was putting Peter off breakfast,... and nothing did that.
Peter shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the back seat, sitting behind Gene.
Safest place in the car.
"That's actually the point," Sherlock said simply as he sat beside Peter, preferring the back seat and certainly, allowing Peter to have his pick. "I have Lestrade checking in on it. Which means he won't. All the better to actually solve this case by tomorrow night. Or morning, early, the next day. And then Halloween can go off with-- Well whatever Halloween goes off with. Dressing up as a cowboy this year, Gene?"
He smirked lightly, knowing the answer to that. They hadn't spent a halloween together in almost twenty years, but Sherlock still knew.
"Thought I'd do something a bit different, so I'm going as Eastwood instead of Cooper and Wayne,” Sounded fair right? After all, Gene always went as Gary Cooper but he was feeling a bit festive this year… and a bit less heroic. Morally questionable cowboys suited him more these days… shame, he liked being the big hero.
“Sams going as a Kitty.”
Sam always went as one when Peter was around because Peter made sure he did. Even if it meant getting up at 3am to draw whiskers on his face. Peter smirked darkly and gave Sam aplayful wink. Oh yes, some things never changed.
"Im locking the bloody doors to the flat!" Sam swore. No way was Peter getting in to draw whiskers on him. "And you're here as a consultant. If you want to be sure not to end up in a cell, you'll be a good mate and not try it." Sam was too old to dress up, even if the whole staff did it at work. He felt ridiculous at those parties Halloween night because, invariably, there was a crime and he had to go to the scene dressed as a kitten with a belled collar and furry boots!
Sherlock caught the Eastwood reference and nodded. He'd not dress up. He never did. Peter tried to get him to be a sheep, but he was too stubborn and not small enough like Sam to play tricks on.
Most people assumed he was a vampire anyhow.
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But tell either one they're similar? There would be hell to pay.
"Sammy the kitty! A Halloween tradition since we were 8 Sam, you can't stop tradition."
It was unstoppable!
Sam didn't answer, crossing his arms, and while that was typical, Sherlock noted the strain. You don't just kill someone and feel like you can move on. Unless you're John Watson of course--
John, John, John. Sherlock slipped his hand, unasked, into Peter's. It had become the code to make the man stop him from doing something irrational. He even stuck the unlit cigarette Gene'd given him into Peter's pocket. He didn't want to need it. He hated needing anything.
And Manchester was such a hot bed for filling those needs that Sherlock was a little nervous to be left to his own devices.
Peter could note the strain, he knew everyone in this car was not themselves. Gene was obviously not dealing at all, in fact he was in denial.He always denied anything he didn't like. Like he denied it when he thought his brother was dead, pretended he couldn't remember when he was shot during his first week on the force and like he denied the fact that he was gay for a good long while-- in fact he could of still been in denial now.
Sam, as always, was taking it all too heart and obsessing over his whole and the perversion of justice... plus probably some PTSD.
And Sherlock? Mourning the loss of John, trying his hardest not t miss him and failing and obviously trying to cope with any vice he could fine. Peter looked around the car before a small proud smile came to his face and he actually had to fight to stifle a laugh.
Because for the first time in... well forever, he was actually the sanest and in the best place emotionally. Finally!
"No you're not," Sherlock said, one of his rare moments of seeming telepathy. He pulled his hand from Peter's half way before he frowned and pinched him and settled back in again, much too close. The pretense was obvious. Going over files in the dark? Hardly possible. "Stop thinking all together, you're putting me off." He was going to have a strop and that would be good for no one. Let Gene have his denial and Sam have his 'brave face' and Peter--
Peter could just be Peter.
"Look at this. Amateur. The entrails are all wrong. If you don't coil them, they kink!"
"I am, for once," Peter shot back, because no Sherlock couldn't take this away from him. He was just being petty, Peter was actually happy for once and no one could ruin that. No one at all. Gene had no idea what Peter and Sherlock were arguing about but he didn't want to know, he really didn't or he had a feeling that he'd end up punching one of them. He usually did anyway actually but he was getting a bit too old to keep picking fights-- Oh what the hell was he saying? Killing his brother really did wreck his mind!
Peter turned his head and looked at what Sherlock was rambling about.
"I was unaware entrails could be put correctly in a Halloween display. I don't think many killers arrange enrails to avoid kinks," Well, so Peter assumed and rather hoped anyway.
"No, but the killer is trying to make these look authentically fake. Follow along. Being kinked up means that the ability to figure out that these are human sooner is far more likely. And no one wants that. Not when the point is to be discovered by teenagers or children or staff...not the decorators. They wanted these to start to smell. And see? Kinks. Someone's gotten sloppy. Desperate. Oh, because you're on them. Easy. Shut down all Halloween attractions."
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"Oh right, the candy. Fine. I also need a list of places not yet affected. No bar tonight, gentlemen. We have haunted houses to visit!"
"No bar?" Those were not god words but Gene supposed work was important. Even if it was pretty rubbish. And besides, he could live just enjoying sweets instead of getting completely smashed. It wouldn't be the same but it would do in a pinch. Besides, they could hardly say no sweets, first person to ruin that was definitely getting a lunch.
And by someone, he meant Sherlock.
As Gene changed course and made his way off towards the haunted house, Peter bounced in his seat and smiled. "I do love haunted houses, remembered that one we went too when we were 13? With the hobos outside? Oooh I missed that."
Sam turned, arm over the headrest, and blinked at Peter. "Tha wasn't a 'aunted 'ouse. You told us it was but there was only 'omeless guys in there and some drug addicts." He paused and grinned at Gene, remembering the fifteen year old bulldozing them out of there, Sam thrown over his shoulder and Sherlock and Peter nearly under each arm. He lightly touched his elbow. Just for a moment. "Guess it was a bit of a 'orror show though."
Sherlock noted the movements and looked away, fishing out his phone instead. "We'll split up. There are five open attractions. Two, two and we'll meet up at the cornfield in Lancshire."
"It was a haunted house!"
"It bloody well wasn't!" Gene asserted with a definite look of annoyance. Sodding hell, Peter was still deluded enough to hink that was a haunted house... it was a bloody crack house. Gene had never had to run so fast in his life, trying to get a bunch of stupid 13 year olds out. It was really abit mental but that was what life was like when he hung out with Peter sodding Carlisle.
"Ooh dibs on being with Sherlock," Peter joked, knowing he was going to be anyway.
'You're going with Sam. I'm going with Gene," Sherlock said as a matter of fact. There were things that Peter and Sam ought to discuss. Alone. And frankly, Sherlock didn't need the competition. Sam did his head in and Peter was brilliant. Over excited and unfocused, but brilliant. "I can't drive and Sam has a car," Sherlock said, cementing to deal. "But we do need to check into at least one of our hotels."
"You charged how many to your brother?" Sam asked, hesitant to say 'brother.'
"Three."
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"Three hotels and we have to check into all of them?"
Sounded boring but he supposed they had to just to piss Mycroft off.
"You and Sam could stay at one. They're quite fancy." Sherlock wasn't being nice. He was being helpful. Sam made little strides to get physical with Gene at least three times since they arrived and Gene hadn't once reciprocated. They were having a bad time. Sherlock didn't much care, but Peter did and Peter was the second half of his world now, just as he had been when they were growing up.
And John--
He was ignoring that voice.
"Sure, we can raid the mini-fridge," Peter declared happily as he sprawled out on the back seat as Gene raced through the streets to track down the first hotel. He only paused to turn around and give Sherlock an annoyed look. Hang on. They were sharing a hotel room? Sam and Peter, really? Well, they did share a dorm together for over 7 years, he supposed they were used to it but still, it was a little mad.
"I'm sharin' a room with you, Freakshow."
What? He wasn't!
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Peter will be with me tonight. I simply meant that there are two open rooms. If you and Sam would like one. I don't give a damn." Sherlock pinched Peter. He wasn't helping here. "If you'd rather not stay at the flat I mean. Raid the...whatever. Rack up pornographic films. Roomservice, what have you. A get away. But after we finish tonight."
Another pinch for Peter. He deserved it!
Sam didn't say a word, though he did look almost expectantly at Gene. He seemed...terrified. Probably about that problem getting it up.
"Okay ow! Fuck sake, why are you pinching me Sherlock?" Peter snapped as he pulled his hand away and gave the other man a look of annoyance. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just here, what did Sherlock expect? He loved Sam and Gene, he really did. And he would like to help, he had empathy for them... but was it so bad that he was kind of tired of dealing with their problems? Yes, he got it, this was all a big deal and he felt bad for Sam but they already stole his hotel room for 2 months. He was a little tired of having to drop everything for him.
"No more pinching, pinch me again and I'll pinch you back."
Rubbing his head, he peered round and looked at Gene as he took a steady left and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't mind, we're not payin' so who cares? You wanna, Sammy?"
"Yeah, fine, sounds like a good time." Or a terrible, terrible time of ignoring each other and falling asleep early again. Sam forced his smile and Gene drove like a loon as if it was normal and off they went.
After their check ins and baggage drops, Gene and Sherlock dropped Sam and Peter off at the flat so Sam could get his car and they split up their attractions.
Sam frowned at Peter as they climbed into his coupe and took off at half of Gene's usual launch speed. "Still a bit baffled that you stayed in London of all places, mate, if I'm 'onest."
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Peter settled back and peered out the window with a small frown.
"I'm baffled by you and Gene... I just can't work you guys out right now."
"We're fine," Sam snapped. "I thought you and Sherlock were domestic now? No? You use to constantly snog in the back seat." When they were drunk or high... Sherlock hadn't been interested in any of that otherwise. Something else that Sam had always noticed and only commented on once or twice. It was easier not to. So much easier not to. Their relationship confused him more than his own. "Got the notice of the pregnancy from John's wife last week actually and... It's been six months since they married. He's still-- You know, I wouldn't have thought him capable of caring."
He took a right, heading out to the secondary school having one of the haunted house attractions and glanced over at Peter. "What about you then? Any girls? Blokes?"
"I'm making sure he doesn't kill himself and amusing myself in the process. Sam, I'm not 17, I'm not deluded enough to think Sherlock loves me," Peter was far too cynical to handle that sort of thing any more, he had no delusion of romance or love with Sherlock. They were mates, close mates, and that was fine with him if that was all it was. He was also standing in for John, he also accepted that. "No women, no blokes. I'm not dating, kind of fed up Sam. Just just being happy to be me alone and I have to tell you, I haven't been happier in a while."
After all, he was free to just do what he wanted without worrying over a partner. He only had Sherlock to worry about.
"But, enough about me, you and Gene. There's a problem there, hence why you snapped. I'm not going to force you to talk about it but I'm here and you know I've always listened before and I will not. Just have at it and tell me if you want. That's it."
Sam was silent for a long while. He wanted to apologize for Peter getting the raw end of the stick. For getting Sherlock who could not love him, for settling for what was not idea... He wanted to say a lot of things, but instead, he bit his lip and then sighed. "We've been together, three of us, since we were five. An' Gene was seven. Think it's finally over. Thirty years is a very long time to love someone."
Sam shrugged slightly and made a gentle left.
"I think he resents me. I should let him go but I can't. And it's fine. He's... The same as always. I don't blame him. I'm just really tired. And I don't really want to talk about it."
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After all, they just didn't talk and Gene was hopelessly in denial. That would never get them anywhere.
"Sam, talk to Gene. Have you two tried to talk about it? Have you tried to pry anything out about how Gene feels? I get that you're suffering and all but-- don't forget that he killed his brother for you, which isn't easy. It'd be a kick to the teeth if you just decided to leave him now," Peter pointed out as evenly as possible. It would probably make poor Gene feel worse if Sam just decided to leave him!
Sometimes Peter knew the perfect things to say and sometimes he didn't. Tonight was the latter. "I know he killed him for me. I know. You expect to have to shoot at people in this line of work but I'd never--" Killed anyone. It was eating him up inside. He stopped talking. Peter might ask questions but Sam had clammed up for good. He was the only sour mooded person in line that night for the recreation of the Bates' Motel haunted house.
Sherlock took a different approach. He handed Gene an address and a plot number. "Meant to do this ages ago, but work and all--" Mycroft had buried Stewart Hunt properly. Close by. And Gene could visit if he'd like to. Or piss on his grave if he liked to. And then to change the subject, and because he thought he could always talk to Gene, just as Gene could always talk to him: "How'm I meant to handle Peter?"
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"Peter? Peter's Peter, just leave him too it. He lasted a long time without you, mate. If he wanted help, he'll ask," Gene assured him, knowing Sherlock would either pry or ignore Peters depression. It could go two ways. "And he knows you miss John, don't pretend you don't."
That was all Gene could really offer.
"John was my answer to Peter in the first place," Sherlock said in a mark if candidness. Only Gene could get this from Sherlock. Just like Gene, as a younger man, could figure out things about him and Sam through consulting Sherlock about the manual handling of it all.
Sherlock kept his eyes forward.
"He's part of me. I tried to keep him forever. Like Peter. And now Peter's back. John went back to Mary because of Peter." Gene didn't have to ask how Sherlock knew. Sherlock knew because he knew. Same as he knew everything. "I'm tired of being alone, Gene."
How was that for honesty?
"So is Pete, you're a perfect match. I mea, come on, you think he ever gotover you? Little secret here, he'd kill me for say. His first wife, why did she end it with him? He called out someone elses name in bed - more specifically, he called out your name," Gene informed him, knowing that Peter would kill him if he ever found out. "Well, that was pretty much what triggered the break up, he didn't tell us till we got him drunk. Then there was the dog, Locky. The intial attraction to dark haired moody people."
Yeah, he had been pining for a while and Peter had been replacing him since he was 17. Hell, he had a long horrible road trying to as well.
"Pete has no where to go this time and I doubt he'd leave anyway. You won't be alone if you man up and ask him to stay."
Tough but fair, right?
Sherlock nodded his head, slowly. He admitted to knowing nothing about how people worked. He tired to stalk and possess John and that hadn't worked out. So this... Well, it was better than nothing. Peter could handle it more. "Talking then," Sherlock said, making sure Gene was listening. "Yes. I'll tell him. Has Sam gone for counseling yet?"
Just out of concern of course. Sherlock already knew the answer though.
"Nope, thats why his tackle won't stand to attention," Yes, Gene knew, of course he knew. He'd haver to be blind. He also knew that this was very awkward and hard for both of them. "I don't think he likes our lack of intamacy but my brother did-- well, his men, what they did? And the whole murder thing? Well, sucked the romance out of everything. Don't really know what I should and shouldn't do."
And he refused to accidentally make it all worse like he always did!
"Think he ever will go?"
Gene knew the answer but he needed Sherlock to confirm it because... well, he needed it.
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Sherlock paused to pull out his phone and text Peter.
It simply read: "We'll talk tonight but I want you to stay with me until I bore you or you find something better." Signed SH of course.
There. Now he felt... Better.How odd.
"I hope he does, dumb git needs to vent. Think he thinks I hate him or somethin' but I don't. And he didn't let me down... he's just a bit of a prat lately," And even thinking that made him felt guilty! He knew Sam was suffering but part of him just wanted to box Sam around the side of the head, tell him to snap out of it and stop moping... but he knew that was wrong, he knew it wouldn't help.
Taking a left to the next hotel, he gave Sherlock a sideways look, watching him text away to Peter. He could guess what was being said, something emotional but offensive because it was, in fact, Sherlock.
Fortunately Peter was fluent in Sherlockisms and when he looked at the text, he simply raised an eyebrow. Goodie, they had at least 20 years together! Better than nothing.
And, of course, Peter sent back a little 'Done :D I'll try not to stray off or be too boring.'
"I'll never say this again, but you're brilliant Gene Hunt. Now talk to Sam about it and let him hit you or cry and get over this." Sherlock smirked in amusement at Peter's message. It really Had been so very easy.
While they finished checking in on their other hotels, their counterparts were herded through the lines to the haunted house. "Keep your eyes open. You live with Sherlock. You'd be able to tell what's fake and what's----AGGGGH!"
Poor Sammy. He was a grown man and still clinging to Peter when something jumped out at him.
"Its a man in a mask, Sam," Peter groaned, shaking his head in embarrassment. Honestly, it was always like this. They were in the middle of doing something Halloweeny and became a right wuss. He really did fear anything horror related but Peter had learned to find it somewhat amusing. Especially when he was scared by something daft.
The man in the mask wandered off to spook some little kids and Peter slowly headed down the line, passing a £10 to the man in charge so they could get inside and have a peek.
"Just,.. don't wet yourself, Sammy. Its all fake but the organs."
"Shut it. I just got startled!" Which was absolutely why he was sticking so close to Peter as they moved back through the attraction. "We're coppers. We could have flashed badges--" But then they'd be found out. This way was better. Peter was an excellent detective. Sometimes going by the books just didn't work.
As they rushed through the display to the back of the house where people were hiding to get a good look at the props, Sam leaned against Peter.
It was funny. They'd all ended up detectives. Even Sherlock.
Well Gene wanted to be a copper since he was a wee lad, Sam too. It was the foundation of their friendship, well that and Gene defending Sam when other kids picked on him. Peter hasn't had any interest in coppers. He went for it out of boredom and no other alternative, he just did what everyone else did and it paid quite a bit.
Peter looked around, laughing at the horror rather than jumping like Sam did. When the skeleton shot out, Peter burst into laughter and Sam must of moved closer because Peter almost bumped into him.
"Its plastic, don't worry. Aww, it kinda looks like the crypt keeper!"
There was an odd smell now that the skeleton had skittered out at them and that made Sam frown. He looked at the bones and realizes that he rib cage was covered in paint. He immediately put on a pair of gloves and passed some to poor Peter. You never knew what diseases you could get from these things.
"Fuck. Gene's got my penlight." He didn't need it though. "Wither that's a pig heart... Or that's human. Either way we're shuttin' this place down."
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Peter, with no shame, moved his hand in and prodded the hearts behind the ribs.
"Doesn't eel but I suppose we have to. Kill joy!"
What? He was! He always ruined Peters fun. Rolling his eyes, shaking his head and heading towards the exit. It took a lot of moving to get around all the bloody annoying props.
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A message from Peter that Sam was being no fun. Sherlock grinned that creepy, Real Person smile and flounced off, pausing only when Gene wasn't following. He needed the ride!
"Your DI found something. Peter's unhappy!"
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Gene hurried along after Sherlock and the two of them headed into the car, taking a quick ride and terrifying one even. After all, Gene was phoning his men to come and have a search and he was doing it while driving... Sherlock was lucky he had his seat belt on, they went into the middle of the road more than once on their way.
Peter stood beside Sam with a bored expression while the shorter man interrogated everyone who worked here.
This could not be more boring, the dead bodies were interesting... this was not. Who interviewed without free food? Pfft, amateur.
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Keep Peter happy. And have that talk later as Gene suggested.
"Did he cry this time?" Sam might be twenty years older, but some habits were hard to break.
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They used to always go to haunted houses and off on Halloween walks, Peter never got scared but he still loved it... Sam? Well, he cried when they were very young, screamed a lot and used to try and run back home.
"Best one was the haunted church we went too. I still think he pissed himself when he accidentally locked himself in the broom cupboard," Which was, of course, really Gene's fault. He did say it was the exit.
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