FILL: Simple Mathematics; Tesselation 3/?thesardineFebruary 4 2011, 01:01:58 UTC
The car came at four, as promised. Sherlock was in the shower at this time, and had been for the last forty five minutes. John picked the lock on the door and wrestled Sherlock out of the restroom, where he had been reading Encyclopedia L, Lemming. He stood sentinel while Sherlock chose fresh clothes, but since all of his clothes looked good, it didn't matter what he wore.
The Holmes' house was rather modest in comparison to what John had expected, which had been more along the lines of Oxford College. It was a large Victorian structure on the edge of town, and when they stepped inside, the foyer was full of caskets.
"Oh good," a young woman said, and clasped John's hand very tightly. "I'm so excited to finally meet you. I'm Fairhurst."
Fairhurst had honey-blonde hair that rose in wisps about her head. No eyebrows to speak of, large blue eyes, and skin that was nearly transparent. John could see the blue veins disappear into the short sleeves of her dress, and the effect was subtly erotic.
"Why are these here?" Sherlock demanded, about the caskets.
"They're Daddy's favorites," Fairhurst said.
"Obviously. I meant why are they here, in this room?"
A pained expression crossed Fairhurst's face. "Sherlock, surely," she began. "Daddy sold the business months ago." She turned to John. "He never keeps up. Come. Oh, I see you've brought cake."
In the parlour, John was introduced to Brightmore, Sherlock's younger brother. He was modern-looking, short dark hair and a T-shirt advertising a band John didn't recognize.
"You're going to need a drink," Brightmore said, and left to fetch him one, returning quickly.
A heavily pregnant woman folded Sherlock into a headlock and scrubbed his head with her knuckles. Sherlock frantically twisted free and retreated behind John, latching onto his jumper.
"You're going to need a Valium," said Brightmore, and left again.
The pregnant woman was Halding, another one of Sherlock's sisters, younger. She had bobbed blonde hair and was sipping a glass of white wine. "I'll bet he's said nothing about us," she said.
"I've already lied to Fairhurst about it, so please don't say anything."
Halding touched her finger to her nose. She reached around John and jabbed Sherlock sharply in the side. He squirmed away.
"Where's Sheraton?" he asked, a bit loudly.
Brightmore returned with a small pill. "Here you are," he said to Sherlock, who jumped.
"I don't want it!"
John quickly finished his drink.
The rest of the evening went like this:
Baignard arrived and gave John a sultry smile, which he returned. Sherlock spun John to face the wall.
John met Hannah, Sherlock's other brother Dixon's wife. She pointed out their two children, James and Emily.
"What about the little dark haired one?" John asked.
"Oh no, she's Mycroft's."
John choked.
Sherlock held out a tight fist and gave to his mother a filigree pendant in the shape of a fish. She put it on immediately.
Fairhurst introduced John to her father, Robert. "This is Sherlock's friend, Daddy."
"I used to beat him up all the time," said Halding.
"I taught him how to dress," said Baignard. That was obvious, actually.
"Sheraton, Mycroft, Dixon, Baignard, me, Halding, Fairhurst, Brightmore," Sherlock said, his eyes flickering about the room.
John had been wondering, but hadn't asked.
"For awhile we thought Sherlock would take over the business," said Dekerdanet. "He showed great interest for awhile. He used to help me do their hair and make up."
"He only wanted to see a dead body, Mum," said Baignard.
"Yes, Sherlock and his experiments."
"See, he's gone all autistic already."
"Baignard, that's not nice," said Fairhurst.
John led Sherlock outside for a moment. He stood with his eyes clenched shut, and John squeezed him tightly, which was scientifically proven to reduce anxiety.
"Alright?" he asked.
"Yes. Thank you."
"I'm glad he's got a friend," Brightmore said. He had gotten a little bit drunk. "Not that - I mean, you know. I like Sherlock. He doesn't like me. But you can't take it personally. Not that you would. He doesn't like anyone. Except Sheraton. And you, obviously."
The Holmes' house was rather modest in comparison to what John had expected, which had been more along the lines of Oxford College. It was a large Victorian structure on the edge of town, and when they stepped inside, the foyer was full of caskets.
"Oh good," a young woman said, and clasped John's hand very tightly. "I'm so excited to finally meet you. I'm Fairhurst."
Fairhurst had honey-blonde hair that rose in wisps about her head. No eyebrows to speak of, large blue eyes, and skin that was nearly transparent. John could see the blue veins disappear into the short sleeves of her dress, and the effect was subtly erotic.
"Why are these here?" Sherlock demanded, about the caskets.
"They're Daddy's favorites," Fairhurst said.
"Obviously. I meant why are they here, in this room?"
A pained expression crossed Fairhurst's face. "Sherlock, surely," she began. "Daddy sold the business months ago." She turned to John. "He never keeps up. Come. Oh, I see you've brought cake."
In the parlour, John was introduced to Brightmore, Sherlock's younger brother. He was modern-looking, short dark hair and a T-shirt advertising a band John didn't recognize.
"You're going to need a drink," Brightmore said, and left to fetch him one, returning quickly.
A heavily pregnant woman folded Sherlock into a headlock and scrubbed his head with her knuckles. Sherlock frantically twisted free and retreated behind John, latching onto his jumper.
"You're going to need a Valium," said Brightmore, and left again.
The pregnant woman was Halding, another one of Sherlock's sisters, younger. She had bobbed blonde hair and was sipping a glass of white wine. "I'll bet he's said nothing about us," she said.
"I've already lied to Fairhurst about it, so please don't say anything."
Halding touched her finger to her nose. She reached around John and jabbed Sherlock sharply in the side. He squirmed away.
"Where's Sheraton?" he asked, a bit loudly.
Brightmore returned with a small pill. "Here you are," he said to Sherlock, who jumped.
"I don't want it!"
John quickly finished his drink.
The rest of the evening went like this:
Baignard arrived and gave John a sultry smile, which he returned. Sherlock spun John to face the wall.
John met Hannah, Sherlock's other brother Dixon's wife. She pointed out their two children, James and Emily.
"What about the little dark haired one?" John asked.
"Oh no, she's Mycroft's."
John choked.
Sherlock held out a tight fist and gave to his mother a filigree pendant in the shape of a fish. She put it on immediately.
Fairhurst introduced John to her father, Robert. "This is Sherlock's friend, Daddy."
"I used to beat him up all the time," said Halding.
"I taught him how to dress," said Baignard. That was obvious, actually.
"Sheraton, Mycroft, Dixon, Baignard, me, Halding, Fairhurst, Brightmore," Sherlock said, his eyes flickering about the room.
John had been wondering, but hadn't asked.
"For awhile we thought Sherlock would take over the business," said Dekerdanet. "He showed great interest for awhile. He used to help me do their hair and make up."
"He only wanted to see a dead body, Mum," said Baignard.
"Yes, Sherlock and his experiments."
"See, he's gone all autistic already."
"Baignard, that's not nice," said Fairhurst.
John led Sherlock outside for a moment. He stood with his eyes clenched shut, and John squeezed him tightly, which was scientifically proven to reduce anxiety.
"Alright?" he asked.
"Yes. Thank you."
"I'm glad he's got a friend," Brightmore said. He had gotten a little bit drunk. "Not that - I mean, you know. I like Sherlock. He doesn't like me. But you can't take it personally. Not that you would. He doesn't like anyone. Except Sheraton. And you, obviously."
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