Sherlock fic: The Problem with Personal Blogs, Part 21
Title: The Problem with Personal Blogs, Part 21/21
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, the BBC gang (Molly, Sarah, Donovan, Anderson)
Rating: PG to Strong Adult - this part R
Warnings: Excessive estrogen, biology
Summary: Sherlock finds himself the recipient of unwanted attention, thanks to the Internet.
Notes: Thank you winterstorrm for the beta and Britpick.
For a complete list of chapters, see: The Problem with Personal Blogs, chapter list.
21. Post Mortem
It was dark and cold when the taxi
dropped Sherlock and John at Baker Street. While John handed across some cash
to pay the fare, Sherlock's expression lightened. "Ah, Lestrade is
here."
"Hullo, gents," the
inspector greeted them, stepping forward from the door to 221B. "I was
just about to ring."
"And Sgt. Donovan," John
warned softly, noticing the shadow that stepped forward with him.
"We dropped by to congratulate
you," Lestrade called as the pair approached.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"Why?"
The DI broke into a laugh. "The
jewelry theft, of course! We got it all-the whole stash, duplicate key, masks,
the works. The lab is checking the clothing for DNA evidence now, but we've got
our case, thanks to you."
Sherlock's face fell. "That's
it?"
Lestrade's brows came down. "We
came to tell you in person. How much more do you want?"
"I was hoping you had something
new."
"New?" Lestrade laughed.
"Not since this afternoon. Sorry."
Donovan tilted up her chin in that
challenging way of hers. "I'd like to offer my congratulations as well."
"Really? How unexpected."
Sherlock stepped past her, feeling his pockets for his keys to the flat.
"Not about the case-about your
Web site."
"Sewage," Lestrade said
with a grin.
Sherlock froze just shy of the front
step. "What about it?"
"It's down, that's what."
Donovan showed a smug smile. "Looks like we're not the only ones who found
what they were after today, does it?"
"We just came from the stalkers,
actually," said John.
"Stalkers, a whole gang? What,
did they invite you round for tea?"
"They gave us tea, yes,"
John said, enjoying the startled look on Donovan's face. "Although we
weren't exactly invited."
"Let me guess," said
Lestrade. "You went round to thank them for their part in solving the
case."
Sherlock looked at him defiantly.
"As a matter of fact, I did."
"Hmph!" Lestrade's eyebrows
bobbed. "I wouldn't have had the nerve for it, myself."
"Or the stomach," added
Donovan.
"Anyway, it's all sorted,"
said John. "They said they'd have it down by the time we got home, and so
it is." He gave Donovan a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Sergeant. I
suppose you'll have to find something else to read."
Donovan remained unflustered. "I
shouldn't worry about that. You see, I downloaded everything to my own computer
earlier today." She gave Sherlock an evil grin. "You never know when
it might come in useful. Particularly those photos of you fawning so
ridiculously over Molly Hooper. You can't tell me that you honestly cared about
her for one instant."
"If you're looking for
blackmail material," John interjected, "you're out of luck. Molly willingly
went undercover... that is-"
"She agreed to help me as a
favor," said Sherlock. "Her affectionate behavior was feigned."
Donovan cocked her head. "It
looked real enough to me."
"Molly believes in method
acting," Sherlock said with a straight face.
"If it's the rhythm method she
uses, I'd watch out, if I were you."
"She helped us set up a sting
operation," John said.
"An operation that proved to be
fully successful." Sherlock met John's eyes. "It seems that I owe you
thanks once again."
"What?" cried Lestrade.
"You have Dr. Watson solving your cases now?"
"Someone's got to solve
the cases around here-and I know it won't be you two."
Lestrade turned a wry face toward
Donovan. "We come here to congratulate him, and he insults us."
"What did you expect?" Donovan
answered.
"Well, have a good night
anyway," Lestrade said cheerfully. "We can always hope some new
disaster will arise to occupy you in the morning."
"What a kind thought,"
Sherlock said, again patting his pockets for his keys. "I do hope you'll follow
through if it does."
"Thanks for coming by,"
John added more politely.
Lestrade gave a wave, and the two official
detectives sauntered off, talking quietly between themselves.
Sherlock opened the door and stepped
in, apparently eager to get out of the cold.
"Quite nice of them to
stop," John said, stepping in behind him.
"Congratulations are a waste of
time," said Sherlock. "Work is all that matters."
"Sometimes one can lead to the
other," John said, trailing him across the foyer.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, if you were to, say,
congratulate Molly on her role in running down the stalkers, she might work
even harder to get you access to whatever you wanted to see in the lab."
Sherlock froze with his foot on the
bottom step, his scarf half untied.
John halted as well. "What is
it?"
"Molly."
"What about her?"
"I shall have to thank
her."
"Yes, well, you can do it in an
email."
Sherlock turned toward him.
"Honestly?"
"Yes!" John laughed.
"What, did you think I was sending you into Molly's clutches again?"
"I thought you might."
"No, I think you've paid your
dues there. You can-no, forget it."
"What?"
John chuckled and lowered his head.
"I was going to suggest that you thank her at work-but that didn't work
out so well the last time, did it?"
Sherlock paused, then did up his
scarf properly and turned toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
Sherlock turned pompously.
"This skulking about is ridiculous. I shall not go cringing through life in
fear of Molly Hooper! I have seen her tricks, and will therefore no longer
succumb to them."
John hesitated. "I don't think
it's a trick so much as a biological triggering."
"Regardless, I refuse to be
held captive by it. I am going to Molly's flat, in person. I will thank her for
her help, reiterate our position as 'just friends', and thereafter begin
reaping the rewards of additional lab privileges."
"I... don't think that's such a
good idea."
"I didn't ask for your opinion.
You haven't exactly been hitting in the gold in this area, if you want to know
the truth. It's time I re-established the limits of our working
relationship." He swung open the door. "Don't wait dinner on me,
John. I'll be back sometime."
"With your purity intact?"
John called after him.
"I am more than my
hormones!" was Sherlock's parting bellow.
#
Sherlock never did understand how
his simple statement that he and Molly need no longer act like a couple ended
with him tied hand and foot to the four posts of her bed, whilst Molly
enthusiastically rode him toward yet another completion. John was clearly a
mind-reader when it came to female seductive behavior. However, the sacrifice
of a few sequential orgasms seemed a small price to pay for Molly's continued
cooperation in the morgue. With that in mind, he decided to put his back into
it. Judging by the increased volume and frequency of Molly's howls, the effort
was appreciated.
Overall, Sherlock was pleased. He
had defended his honor on the Internet and ensured his continued access to the
mortuary. One thing, however, was clear: he would never feel the least
hesitation about asking Molly for a favor again.
The End
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, the BBC gang (Molly, Sarah, Donovan, Anderson)
Rating: PG to Strong Adult - this part R
Warnings: Excessive estrogen, biology
Summary: Sherlock finds himself the recipient of unwanted attention, thanks to the Internet.
Notes: Thank you winterstorrm for the beta and Britpick.
For a complete list of chapters, see: The Problem with Personal Blogs, chapter list.
21. Post Mortem
It was dark and cold when the taxi
dropped Sherlock and John at Baker Street. While John handed across some cash
to pay the fare, Sherlock's expression lightened. "Ah, Lestrade is
here."
"Hullo, gents," the
inspector greeted them, stepping forward from the door to 221B. "I was
just about to ring."
"And Sgt. Donovan," John
warned softly, noticing the shadow that stepped forward with him.
"We dropped by to congratulate
you," Lestrade called as the pair approached.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"Why?"
The DI broke into a laugh. "The
jewelry theft, of course! We got it all-the whole stash, duplicate key, masks,
the works. The lab is checking the clothing for DNA evidence now, but we've got
our case, thanks to you."
Sherlock's face fell. "That's
it?"
Lestrade's brows came down. "We
came to tell you in person. How much more do you want?"
"I was hoping you had something
new."
"New?" Lestrade laughed.
"Not since this afternoon. Sorry."
Donovan tilted up her chin in that
challenging way of hers. "I'd like to offer my congratulations as well."
"Really? How unexpected."
Sherlock stepped past her, feeling his pockets for his keys to the flat.
"Not about the case-about your
Web site."
"Sewage," Lestrade said
with a grin.
Sherlock froze just shy of the front
step. "What about it?"
"It's down, that's what."
Donovan showed a smug smile. "Looks like we're not the only ones who found
what they were after today, does it?"
"We just came from the stalkers,
actually," said John.
"Stalkers, a whole gang? What,
did they invite you round for tea?"
"They gave us tea, yes,"
John said, enjoying the startled look on Donovan's face. "Although we
weren't exactly invited."
"Let me guess," said
Lestrade. "You went round to thank them for their part in solving the
case."
Sherlock looked at him defiantly.
"As a matter of fact, I did."
"Hmph!" Lestrade's eyebrows
bobbed. "I wouldn't have had the nerve for it, myself."
"Or the stomach," added
Donovan.
"Anyway, it's all sorted,"
said John. "They said they'd have it down by the time we got home, and so
it is." He gave Donovan a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Sergeant. I
suppose you'll have to find something else to read."
Donovan remained unflustered. "I
shouldn't worry about that. You see, I downloaded everything to my own computer
earlier today." She gave Sherlock an evil grin. "You never know when
it might come in useful. Particularly those photos of you fawning so
ridiculously over Molly Hooper. You can't tell me that you honestly cared about
her for one instant."
"If you're looking for
blackmail material," John interjected, "you're out of luck. Molly willingly
went undercover... that is-"
"She agreed to help me as a
favor," said Sherlock. "Her affectionate behavior was feigned."
Donovan cocked her head. "It
looked real enough to me."
"Molly believes in method
acting," Sherlock said with a straight face.
"If it's the rhythm method she
uses, I'd watch out, if I were you."
"She helped us set up a sting
operation," John said.
"An operation that proved to be
fully successful." Sherlock met John's eyes. "It seems that I owe you
thanks once again."
"What?" cried Lestrade.
"You have Dr. Watson solving your cases now?"
"Someone's got to solve
the cases around here-and I know it won't be you two."
Lestrade turned a wry face toward
Donovan. "We come here to congratulate him, and he insults us."
"What did you expect?" Donovan
answered.
"Well, have a good night
anyway," Lestrade said cheerfully. "We can always hope some new
disaster will arise to occupy you in the morning."
"What a kind thought,"
Sherlock said, again patting his pockets for his keys. "I do hope you'll follow
through if it does."
"Thanks for coming by,"
John added more politely.
Lestrade gave a wave, and the two official
detectives sauntered off, talking quietly between themselves.
Sherlock opened the door and stepped
in, apparently eager to get out of the cold.
"Quite nice of them to
stop," John said, stepping in behind him.
"Congratulations are a waste of
time," said Sherlock. "Work is all that matters."
"Sometimes one can lead to the
other," John said, trailing him across the foyer.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, if you were to, say,
congratulate Molly on her role in running down the stalkers, she might work
even harder to get you access to whatever you wanted to see in the lab."
Sherlock froze with his foot on the
bottom step, his scarf half untied.
John halted as well. "What is
it?"
"Molly."
"What about her?"
"I shall have to thank
her."
"Yes, well, you can do it in an
email."
Sherlock turned toward him.
"Honestly?"
"Yes!" John laughed.
"What, did you think I was sending you into Molly's clutches again?"
"I thought you might."
"No, I think you've paid your
dues there. You can-no, forget it."
"What?"
John chuckled and lowered his head.
"I was going to suggest that you thank her at work-but that didn't work
out so well the last time, did it?"
Sherlock paused, then did up his
scarf properly and turned toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
Sherlock turned pompously.
"This skulking about is ridiculous. I shall not go cringing through life in
fear of Molly Hooper! I have seen her tricks, and will therefore no longer
succumb to them."
John hesitated. "I don't think
it's a trick so much as a biological triggering."
"Regardless, I refuse to be
held captive by it. I am going to Molly's flat, in person. I will thank her for
her help, reiterate our position as 'just friends', and thereafter begin
reaping the rewards of additional lab privileges."
"I... don't think that's such a
good idea."
"I didn't ask for your opinion.
You haven't exactly been hitting in the gold in this area, if you want to know
the truth. It's time I re-established the limits of our working
relationship." He swung open the door. "Don't wait dinner on me,
John. I'll be back sometime."
"With your purity intact?"
John called after him.
"I am more than my
hormones!" was Sherlock's parting bellow.
#
Sherlock never did understand how
his simple statement that he and Molly need no longer act like a couple ended
with him tied hand and foot to the four posts of her bed, whilst Molly
enthusiastically rode him toward yet another completion. John was clearly a
mind-reader when it came to female seductive behavior. However, the sacrifice
of a few sequential orgasms seemed a small price to pay for Molly's continued
cooperation in the morgue. With that in mind, he decided to put his back into
it. Judging by the increased volume and frequency of Molly's howls, the effort
was appreciated.
Overall, Sherlock was pleased. He
had defended his honor on the Internet and ensured his continued access to the
mortuary. One thing, however, was clear: he would never feel the least
hesitation about asking Molly for a favor again.
The End