(no subject)
Title When All Logic Fails
Rating Gen
Pairing John/Sarah
Word Count 1714
Summary When John Watson moved into 221b Baker Street, he only expected the company he brought with him. But between the unusual decorations left by the last occupant and mysterious sounds at night, the apartment may have more of a history than Ms. Hudson let on.
Warnings AU, supernatural
Disclaimer I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the spinoffs.
Notes First time that I've tried writing in the character's voices completely. I'm a bit anxious about it, I hope they're not too OOC... Again, concrit is much appreciated! Also, the next update will likely take a few days due to college (which I completely neglected today because you guys are so very awesome).
Chapter 2 - John Watson’s problem
“Now who are you and what are you doing in my flat?”
He tried to reply but no words came out. After a few seconds of collecting himself he managed to choke out:
“Excuse me?” John frowned at the man in front of him “Did you just say ‘my flat’?”
“I did. So you aren’t completely stupid then.” Sherlock said in an incredibly condescending tone.
John just raised his eyebrows at this. There was a stranger in his flat, and an incredibly rude one to boot. Considering the situation he seemed very calm and collected though. He was still eyeing John as though John was something that the married couple’s cat from next door had spit out.
Turning his head to the side he contemplated the situation once more. He needed to stay calm as well; there really would be no point in having things escalate.
John sighed.
“Look,” he said exasperatedly, “As far as I know I am renting the flat, Mrs. Hudson -”
“Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock cut him off forcefully, “rented out this flat to me and I do not see any reason for you to be here.”
“ You have got to be kidding me,” John said as Sherlock took a step towards him, “look, I’ve got the forms right here.” He moved towards the desk where he’d put the rental contract.
With his back mostly turned to the other man, John could see Sherlock making his way towards him from his peripheral vision.
“Let me see those.” came the curt reply. As soon as Sherlock reached John and the desk he made a swipe for the papers John was already holding. Sherlock’s hands went straight through the paper.
They both stilled.
“What just happened?” John asked, blinking rapidly. Sherlock didn’t answer but again attempted to take the papers from him. Again Sherlock’s hands passed straight through.
John had heard about ghost stories before, but this was just plain ridiculous. The other man however, looked absolutely horrified.
All the confidence John had observed earlier seemed to have vanished. Sherlock was now holding his hand in front of his face, as though examining it. Then he looked up as though he had heard John’s thoughts about him.
“What are you looking at?” It sounded cold, angry.
“You, actually.” The answer was greeted with silence as Sherlock merely turned and started examining the coffee table in the middle of the room.
“What are you doing?” John was again met with silence and he decided the smartest thing he could do was take out his laptop and Google spirit mediums or at least ways of how to get rid of ghosts -anything was favourable to being ignored.
How did you tell another person there was a ghost trying to step through your sitting room table though? This was going to be a long night indeed.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
It was after half an hour’s worth of fruitless searching on Google that he felt somebody standing behind him.
“I hope you do realise that chanting from the bible will not, in fact, make me return to the afterlife.” Sherlock remarked dryly.
John was starting to get a headache. This should not be happening to him. He was just a regular bloke with a regular life, a regular girlfriend and a regular family. Okay so maybe his family wasn’t so regular, but he himself had turned out remarkably normal, he thought.
“Why are you still here? ” He sounded tired. Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at him before replying:
“Why are you still here? This is my flat. I do believe I have a right to be here.”
“I thought we’d gone over this already.” John sighed. “I am renting the flat from Mrs. Hudson. The papers are right there on the desk. Now go away.”
Sherlock sprawled himself out on the sofa and for once, didn’t slide right through. This was certainly a new development.
“I see you have no intention of leaving...” John said looking at the other man wearily. “Right. Okay... I’m going to sleep.” He hoped it was all just a bad dream and when he’d wake up everything would be normal again. Just him with his regular life, his regular girlfriend and no ghosts to worry about.
Sherlock seemed to have zoned out and ignored him as he went back to bed. It was alright, he told himself. Everything would be alright again in the morning.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
John ambled downstairs. What a horrid dream had that been, how could he ever have imagined a ghost of all things? Shaking his head slightly he sauntered past the sofa into the kitchen. What he needed now was a nice cup of tea and-
“It wasn’t a bad dream you know.”
He swirled around. Sprawled out over the sofa still was... impossible, he should have been gone.
“You!”
“Me.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at a very groggy looking John. “You’re not very articulate are you?” He pushed up from his position on the sofa.
John groaned. Just his rotten luck. Turning to his army discipline he set to ignore the ghost and went about his usual business before setting off to work. There had to be a way to get rid of this nuisance .
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Sarah had told him he seemed distracted. He’d just told her he’d had a bad night’s sleep. Which essentially, was the truth. He had kept the real reason from her though and when he finally stepped back into 221b Baker Street he rubbed his hands together gleefully. In about half an hour Mrs. Cassandra Riverton would be there and she would finally take care of his problem.
It had taken him quite a while to find a well known, respected medium that could visit on such short notice, but as soon as he had told her about his, ahem, ghost problem she hadn’t been able to resist. Though he had better not tell Sarah about the suggestive way she’d put her hand on his shoulder...
He would happily ignore all the suggestive looks and the touching when she’d gotten rid of Sherlock for him.
“There was a journal on that table. What have you done with it? I need it.” The ghost said without preamble. John jumped; Sherlock had snuck up on him.
“Journal? What journal? That table’s been in that exact same state for the last three weeks now.” John frowned.
“I had left it there, now where is it?”
“If you mean all that junk that was cluttered up over there, I put it in boxes which are now stacked in the second bedroom.” He ought to be nice; Sherlock would be gone quite soon after all.
“You do realise I cannot touch those boxes?” Sherlock said, rather contemptuously.
“Oh, yes, I am well aware of that fact.” John replied pleasantly. “Was that a hint Mr. Holmes?” Sherlock glared at him.
“It most certainly was, now if you’d be so kind I would very much like to actually be able to see the journal in question.”
“Oh, but I have no idea which box I stored it in, unfortunately.” John replied. He could see it was grating on the ghost’s nerves, as far as ghosts were capable of having grating nerves that was.
“Then find it!” Sherlock all but ordered him.
John supposed he could indulge him for just a bit. Getting the man even angrier likely wouldn’t be very smart or nice, considering.
“The journal... alright.” As John walked to the second bedroom, Sherlock was hot on his heels.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
John actually did know which one of the boxes contained the journal; he’d labelled all the boxes with the room they’d come from. All the paper paraphernalia that came from the sitting room had been put in one box since it didn’t take up as much space as all the various oddities and experiments he’d found lying around as well.
After fumbling around in various boxes - on purpose of course- he’d found a black leather-bound journal in the sitting room box. He could see Sherlock had come quite close to spouting profanities and John was highly amused.
“Is this it?” He asked the ghost.
Sherlock’s face lit up, eyes shining with excitement. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it! You’re such an idiot for keeping it stored away. Now let me see what’s in there.”
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
While the other man was still insulting him, he was far less annoying when happy, or excited, whatever emotion this was, John mused.
“Turn the page! No, turn it back, yes that’s it.” Sherlock started mumbling unintelligibly for about half a minute. He and John had been going through the journal for the last fifteen minutes. Suddenly the ghost sprang up and ran off, only to return seconds later demanding that John help find another thing that had been lying around the flat somewhere in the previous weeks.
Sherlock’s plans were cut short however, when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it, Mrs. Hudson!” He called and went to open the door.
“I don’t recall you having your lady friend over.” Sherlock remarked, tailing John.
“Oh, this is not my ‘lady friend’ as you put it.” John answered and turned to open the door.
A few seconds later a short woman dressed somewhat like a hippie came bustling in, bracelets clanging, purple skirt flowing around her. Sherlock looked absolutely appalled at her poor choice of clothing.
“Ah, Mr. Watson!” she exclaimed, “What an absolute pleasure to see you again!” She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously.
“Ah, call me John, please.” He said and led her up the stairs.
“That woman has an absolutely appalling sense of style.” Sherlock remarked casually, witnessing the whole exchange. She hadn’t noticed Sherlock yet at all.
When they reached the sitting room she started bustling about, laying out the equipment she had brought with her to take care of John’s problem.
“Now, let’s see what I can do about this problem of yours!” She said brightly and set off to work.
Rating Gen
Pairing John/Sarah
Word Count 1714
Summary When John Watson moved into 221b Baker Street, he only expected the company he brought with him. But between the unusual decorations left by the last occupant and mysterious sounds at night, the apartment may have more of a history than Ms. Hudson let on.
Warnings AU, supernatural
Disclaimer I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the spinoffs.
Notes First time that I've tried writing in the character's voices completely. I'm a bit anxious about it, I hope they're not too OOC... Again, concrit is much appreciated! Also, the next update will likely take a few days due to college (which I completely neglected today because you guys are so very awesome).
Chapter 2 - John Watson’s problem
“Now who are you and what are you doing in my flat?”
He tried to reply but no words came out. After a few seconds of collecting himself he managed to choke out:
“Excuse me?” John frowned at the man in front of him “Did you just say ‘my flat’?”
“I did. So you aren’t completely stupid then.” Sherlock said in an incredibly condescending tone.
John just raised his eyebrows at this. There was a stranger in his flat, and an incredibly rude one to boot. Considering the situation he seemed very calm and collected though. He was still eyeing John as though John was something that the married couple’s cat from next door had spit out.
Turning his head to the side he contemplated the situation once more. He needed to stay calm as well; there really would be no point in having things escalate.
John sighed.
“Look,” he said exasperatedly, “As far as I know I am renting the flat, Mrs. Hudson -”
“Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock cut him off forcefully, “rented out this flat to me and I do not see any reason for you to be here.”
“ You have got to be kidding me,” John said as Sherlock took a step towards him, “look, I’ve got the forms right here.” He moved towards the desk where he’d put the rental contract.
With his back mostly turned to the other man, John could see Sherlock making his way towards him from his peripheral vision.
“Let me see those.” came the curt reply. As soon as Sherlock reached John and the desk he made a swipe for the papers John was already holding. Sherlock’s hands went straight through the paper.
They both stilled.
“What just happened?” John asked, blinking rapidly. Sherlock didn’t answer but again attempted to take the papers from him. Again Sherlock’s hands passed straight through.
John had heard about ghost stories before, but this was just plain ridiculous. The other man however, looked absolutely horrified.
All the confidence John had observed earlier seemed to have vanished. Sherlock was now holding his hand in front of his face, as though examining it. Then he looked up as though he had heard John’s thoughts about him.
“What are you looking at?” It sounded cold, angry.
“You, actually.” The answer was greeted with silence as Sherlock merely turned and started examining the coffee table in the middle of the room.
“What are you doing?” John was again met with silence and he decided the smartest thing he could do was take out his laptop and Google spirit mediums or at least ways of how to get rid of ghosts -anything was favourable to being ignored.
How did you tell another person there was a ghost trying to step through your sitting room table though? This was going to be a long night indeed.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
It was after half an hour’s worth of fruitless searching on Google that he felt somebody standing behind him.
“I hope you do realise that chanting from the bible will not, in fact, make me return to the afterlife.” Sherlock remarked dryly.
John was starting to get a headache. This should not be happening to him. He was just a regular bloke with a regular life, a regular girlfriend and a regular family. Okay so maybe his family wasn’t so regular, but he himself had turned out remarkably normal, he thought.
“Why are you still here? ” He sounded tired. Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at him before replying:
“Why are you still here? This is my flat. I do believe I have a right to be here.”
“I thought we’d gone over this already.” John sighed. “I am renting the flat from Mrs. Hudson. The papers are right there on the desk. Now go away.”
Sherlock sprawled himself out on the sofa and for once, didn’t slide right through. This was certainly a new development.
“I see you have no intention of leaving...” John said looking at the other man wearily. “Right. Okay... I’m going to sleep.” He hoped it was all just a bad dream and when he’d wake up everything would be normal again. Just him with his regular life, his regular girlfriend and no ghosts to worry about.
Sherlock seemed to have zoned out and ignored him as he went back to bed. It was alright, he told himself. Everything would be alright again in the morning.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
John ambled downstairs. What a horrid dream had that been, how could he ever have imagined a ghost of all things? Shaking his head slightly he sauntered past the sofa into the kitchen. What he needed now was a nice cup of tea and-
“It wasn’t a bad dream you know.”
He swirled around. Sprawled out over the sofa still was... impossible, he should have been gone.
“You!”
“Me.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at a very groggy looking John. “You’re not very articulate are you?” He pushed up from his position on the sofa.
John groaned. Just his rotten luck. Turning to his army discipline he set to ignore the ghost and went about his usual business before setting off to work. There had to be a way to get rid of this nuisance .
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Sarah had told him he seemed distracted. He’d just told her he’d had a bad night’s sleep. Which essentially, was the truth. He had kept the real reason from her though and when he finally stepped back into 221b Baker Street he rubbed his hands together gleefully. In about half an hour Mrs. Cassandra Riverton would be there and she would finally take care of his problem.
It had taken him quite a while to find a well known, respected medium that could visit on such short notice, but as soon as he had told her about his, ahem, ghost problem she hadn’t been able to resist. Though he had better not tell Sarah about the suggestive way she’d put her hand on his shoulder...
He would happily ignore all the suggestive looks and the touching when she’d gotten rid of Sherlock for him.
“There was a journal on that table. What have you done with it? I need it.” The ghost said without preamble. John jumped; Sherlock had snuck up on him.
“Journal? What journal? That table’s been in that exact same state for the last three weeks now.” John frowned.
“I had left it there, now where is it?”
“If you mean all that junk that was cluttered up over there, I put it in boxes which are now stacked in the second bedroom.” He ought to be nice; Sherlock would be gone quite soon after all.
“You do realise I cannot touch those boxes?” Sherlock said, rather contemptuously.
“Oh, yes, I am well aware of that fact.” John replied pleasantly. “Was that a hint Mr. Holmes?” Sherlock glared at him.
“It most certainly was, now if you’d be so kind I would very much like to actually be able to see the journal in question.”
“Oh, but I have no idea which box I stored it in, unfortunately.” John replied. He could see it was grating on the ghost’s nerves, as far as ghosts were capable of having grating nerves that was.
“Then find it!” Sherlock all but ordered him.
John supposed he could indulge him for just a bit. Getting the man even angrier likely wouldn’t be very smart or nice, considering.
“The journal... alright.” As John walked to the second bedroom, Sherlock was hot on his heels.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
John actually did know which one of the boxes contained the journal; he’d labelled all the boxes with the room they’d come from. All the paper paraphernalia that came from the sitting room had been put in one box since it didn’t take up as much space as all the various oddities and experiments he’d found lying around as well.
After fumbling around in various boxes - on purpose of course- he’d found a black leather-bound journal in the sitting room box. He could see Sherlock had come quite close to spouting profanities and John was highly amused.
“Is this it?” He asked the ghost.
Sherlock’s face lit up, eyes shining with excitement. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it! You’re such an idiot for keeping it stored away. Now let me see what’s in there.”
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
While the other man was still insulting him, he was far less annoying when happy, or excited, whatever emotion this was, John mused.
“Turn the page! No, turn it back, yes that’s it.” Sherlock started mumbling unintelligibly for about half a minute. He and John had been going through the journal for the last fifteen minutes. Suddenly the ghost sprang up and ran off, only to return seconds later demanding that John help find another thing that had been lying around the flat somewhere in the previous weeks.
Sherlock’s plans were cut short however, when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it, Mrs. Hudson!” He called and went to open the door.
“I don’t recall you having your lady friend over.” Sherlock remarked, tailing John.
“Oh, this is not my ‘lady friend’ as you put it.” John answered and turned to open the door.
A few seconds later a short woman dressed somewhat like a hippie came bustling in, bracelets clanging, purple skirt flowing around her. Sherlock looked absolutely appalled at her poor choice of clothing.
“Ah, Mr. Watson!” she exclaimed, “What an absolute pleasure to see you again!” She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously.
“Ah, call me John, please.” He said and led her up the stairs.
“That woman has an absolutely appalling sense of style.” Sherlock remarked casually, witnessing the whole exchange. She hadn’t noticed Sherlock yet at all.
When they reached the sitting room she started bustling about, laying out the equipment she had brought with her to take care of John’s problem.
“Now, let’s see what I can do about this problem of yours!” She said brightly and set off to work.