Short Fic...
Lessons Learnt
by mycroft221b
Author's note: Firstly, this short fiction was inspired by the original novels by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The idea comes from the new bbc televsion series 'Sherlock' co-created by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. This isn't made for profit...
I respond well to CONSTRUCTIVE criticism and NOT abuse. :D
“John.”
....
“John.”
....
“John!”
John Watson, Medical Doctor, decorated Army Captain of the Royal Infantry of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, shifted in his chair but made no move to respond to the whining voice emanating from the corner of the room. Instead he took another sip of tea and shuffled his newspaper.
“John.” Sherlock sounded a little more desperate this time. “Anytime you want to-“
“No, Sherlock. You got yourself into this mess; you get yourself out of it.” John purposefully did not look in the direction of the Consulting Detective, refusing to accept the current predicament in which his flatmate had gotten himself in.
Silence from the corner.
“Oh don’t look at me, dear brother,” Mycroft Holmes sat in Sherlock’s usual armchair. He appeared to be his usual impeccable self, expensive suit and umbrella perched close by, but he was oddly relaxed more so than John had seen him in a while. Mycroft lifted his tea to his lips as Sherlock gave another huff from the corner, “This tea is delightful John, thank-you.”
“You’re Welcome, Mycroft.” John smiled benignly at the man he had come to think of as the British Government impersonated. One of the only other people he had met who could rival Sherlock in intelligence.
On reflection, thought John. Maybe even more intelligent. After all you don't see Mycroft in this situation.
The two of them knew of course that the light hearted, non- specific, useless conversation that they had been having was simply to annoy Sherlock even more than they had already. John had invited Mycroft to afternoon tea and had genially spoken about any random topic from politics to economy.
Mycroft had been pleasantly surprised to find that Dr John Watson was quite as good at discussing matters of the government as he was shooting a gun. He had had fun infuriating Sherlock this afternoon. But now it was time to attend to business.
“Well, as much as I would love,” Mycroft paused as Sherlock grunted from the corner and muttered something unintelligible, “to stay, I have got matters of business to attend to.”
John took up his cup and stood. “Oh, of course, yes.” He took up Mycroft’s tea cup as well.
“Goodbye Doctor.” Mycroft turned to Sherlock, “Brother.”
“Afternoon, Mycroft.” John said cheerily, he was loving this almost as much as Mycroft was.
The British Government swept from the room.
There was a moment of silence while the two occupants of 221b Baker street listened for the slam of the front door.
“John. Get me down.” Sherlock’s voice was stained now.
“Oh?” John looked bemused, “Why?”
Sherlock mumbled something inaudible.
“What was that?”
“Please.” It was quiet.
“Sorry?”
“Please. John, please, PLEASE get me down!”
John sighed.
“Fine. But next time you decide you want to experiment on the effects gravity has on the body - don’t tie yourself to the ceiling upside down.”
“Okay.”
John walked forward with the army knife that had been sitting on the mantelpiece.
There was a sudden thudding on the stairs.
“Sherlock we’ve got another murder, looks like the-” Lestrade stopped mid-sentence at the scene in front of him. Sherlock tied to the ceiling with a complicated series of pulleys and rope, John standing underneath him, knife in hand. “What-?”
“Oh for God’s sake. JOHN!”
Click! John turned back to Lestrade. Seeing the Inspector with his camera phone in hand. Sherlock looked stricken.
“Sorry… carry on.” Lestrade dropped the file on the living room table and left the flat, they heard him giggling all the way down the stairs.
MH
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