Misdialed - Sherlock/John fic - Chapter 5
Title: Misdialed
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Current Word Count: 12,239
Current Chapter Count: 5
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't even totally own the idea.
Warnings: Possible Character Death
Summary: AU John needs a new phone, one that doesn’t bend time and space and have an annoying man on the other end who claims to be the world’s greatest detective, except that he can’t figure out how he accidentally called Dr. Watson instead of his brother.
-- -- -- -- --
Chapter 5
“See you in two days!”
That had been the cheerful departure to which John had been privileged to on the day he left the hospital on Christmas Eve. Part of John had thought, had seriously considered, skipping his family Christmas party to stay at the police station and look through that case file box. There was just so much information in it. He had barely scratched the surface. Perhaps Sherlock was rubbing off on him in some ways. John was trying to do detective work. He wasn’t even particularly observant. How was he supposed to catch a secretive mob boss if not even the previous detective on the case, who had compiled so much information on the suspect, couldn’t?
John shook his head as he hopped on the train. There was no point thinking about it now. He was headed home for one day of celebration and then it was back to London for work. He could mull over such things when he returned. Right now it was Christmas, and there was a bigger issue at hand.
He hadn’t even asked Sherlock what he wanted for Christmas!
The old woman beside John jumped when he groaned pathetically and smashed his face into his hands. A light pain shot through his shoulder, but he took that as retribution. He was a terrible friend! He was a coward too, apparently. He’d been telling himself to ask Sherlock about Christmas all week, and what did he do? He danced around the subject and waited for Sherlock to ask him instead. Bloody good that did!
“I say, Dear, are you alright?” the old woman asked worriedly.
John groaned softer and rubbed his face down as he sat up straight. “Yes. Yes. Sorry about that.”
“You seem awfully troubled by something,” the woman continued. Her curly blonde hair was groomed into that general old lady style, where it just seemed to fluff around her head in a fuzzy halo sort of way.
“I was just thinking about how this new friend of mine talks to me all the time, and I feel really close to him, but I didn’t even have the nerve to get him a Christmas present,” John admitted. He’d always believed a stranger was a good person to tell things to. This old lady would probably never see him again, so what did it matter if she knew how dumb John was?
“I’m sure he’ll understand. My husband did when I forgot our first anniversary. I’m sure this friend of yours will too.” She pat John’s knee and smiled with her crooked teeth.
“You forgot your first anniversary?” John asked. Wasn’t that kind of an important date?
The old woman nodded. “Yes, I did. I was just so busy running my shop that it completely left my memory. I’m afraid I have a great memory now, but I wasn’t very observant in the past.”
John chuckled. “Sounds like me. I miss obvious things all the time,” he said. “I’m John Watson.” And he held his hand out to shake.
“Call me Ms. Hudson. Everybody else does. It’s the name of my shop too,” she said and winked as she shook his hand.
“In London? I’ll be sure to look it up after the holidays,” John assured. “You off to meet family as well?”
“Sort of,” Ms. Hudson said, frowning suddenly. She placed her hands over her purse in her lap and let out a tiny sigh, something suiting an old woman. “I’m going to visit the grave of a very prestigious man I once knew. The world may be no less happy without him, but it is far less bright. He was my last remaining family… even though we weren’t really related.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” John said, and this time he pat her leg. She smiled warmly at the gesture.
“It’s all in the past now, Deary. I’ve moved on. But as I have no one else to spend the holidays with, I figured he was better than being alone on Christmas. And you? You’re going to see your family?” She opened her purse and began to move things around inside it.
“Yep. My mum, my dad, my sister, and my sister’s girlfriend,” John said. At the mention of a girlfriend, Ms. Hudson looked up jovially.
“Oh isn’t that nice? I bet they’re the stuff of all sorts of gossip,” she said. John chuckled again.
“Oh yes, and they tend to enjoy it more often than not. Also, if we’re lucky, my uncle will come too. See, his wife died in May and I haven’t seen much of him since. Mum invited him, but only time will tell if he shows,” John explained.
“Oh time,” Ms. Hudson snorted. “Yes. Only time will explain the mysteries in life. Only time explains life and death. Well I’ve known enough time, and I still don’t understand a lot of this life.”
“Really?” John asked, smiling. “You don’t look like you’ve seen more than… forty years.”
Ms. Hudson pushed gently on his shoulder and laughed. “Oh you do remind me of my husband - in the early years, before he went abroad and murdered some poor stripper.”
“Thanks?” John replied, and Ms. Hudson laughed more.
-- -- -- --
“John, come open your gifts!” Harry’s voice called from inside. John tugged the sleeves of his sweater down farther as he paced back and forth outside under the overhang. Ice clung to every surface of the patio. A sloppy thin snow coated the yard.
“Are you standing out in the cold?” Sherlock asked. John could hear him drinking something from a cup.
“It’s easier to have a private conversation outside. Otherwise they’d all listen in,” John explained, stamping his feet.
“You should have at least worn a jacket,” Sherlock scolded, but he sounded amused. “And your sister seems the type to be hovering by the glass door to hear everything you’re saying anyway.”
“Well yes, but how did you know…,” John turned slowly and looked inside through the glass. Harriett was there, plastered to the edge of the glass sliding door and staring out at him like a gossip demon. John gave a start and held his chest. “Jesus, Harriett! Trying to give me a bloody heart attack?”
“Uncle brought presents with him that I want to open, but you’re taking forever. Tell your stupid boyfriend you’ll call him back,” she said and stuck her tongue out childishly. John returned the gesture.
“Not my boyfriend,” he said in a loud whisper, hand over the phone so Sherlock wouldn’t hear. “Now get. I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Fine. Just don’t freeze to death,” Harry warned and turned from the door.
“That was your sister, wasn’t it?” Sherlock asked, sounding pleased. John sighed.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you do that. You knew how she would be acting, and you know my parents have a sliding glass door. How did you guess that one?” the doctor asked, scuffing a thick patch of ice and sending it into the tiny yard.
“I didn’t. I’ve seen the house. It was rather quaint, but this one I’m at right now is quite a bit larger. Your uncle’s place, I believe,” Sherlock explained. “Lovely apple cider too. Could use a bit more cinnamon, though.”
“What? What are you doing at my uncle’s?” John gasped.
“Where were you last year, John?” Sherlock asked, switching subjects.
“Exactly where you are, apparently. My uncle was hosting a really big party. Now why are you there?” John asked again.
“I wanted to give you a present,” Sherlock said, and John heard him take a large gulp of his drink. He frowned. Sherlock had come to North York with a present for John…
“Y-yeah, about that… um… I’ve been meaning to ask you what you wanted for Christmas, but I… Well I didn’t know if we were at that stage of a relationship to be giving gifts yet,” John said, forgetting his worry over Sherlock being only a few miles away.
“Oh don’t let something silly bother you,” Sherlock said. “You’re about to give me a great gift.”
“Excuse me?”
“Or rather, I suppose I’m about to give you a great gift,” Sherlock amended. He let out a heavy sigh, as though something bothersome was happening, and then cleared his throat.
“I’m still not following,” John said. “Sorry. But how are you going to give me a present if you’re at my uncle’s house?”
“What’s the full date, Dr. Watson?” Sherlock asked.
“25th December, 2009,” John answered suspiciously. “Sherlock stop changing subjects when I ask questions, please.”
“I’m not. I’m just hoping I’m about to make a good enough impression to make a memory that lasts to next year,” the detective said. John could hear him crack a smile when he spoke next. “I have to go now, but I’ll call you tomorrow. I have to kiss a rather attractive doctor right now, this 25th day of December - year 2008.”
John wasn’t sure what had stunned him more - Sherlock’s last remarks, the oddity of the entire conversation, or the sudden lack of sound caused by Sherlock hanging up.
-- -- -- --
It was after dinner that the memory became clearer for John. He’d been trying to make heads or tails of Sherlock’s comments on the phone, why he would say a different year, why he would tell John he was about to kiss someone… why he said any of that mumbo jumbo. And as he and Harriet were washing the dishes from dinner, it suddenly reminded him. He handed a soap covered plate to his sister and watched her wash it off before speaking.
“Hey, Harry, do you remember Uncle’s party last year?” he asked. He saw the rise and fall of her shoulders before he heard the sigh.
“Yeah? So?” she asked, setting the newly washed plate on the rack to dry. “Are we going to talk about that guy you kissed again? Didn’t you tell me on the phone a little while ago to stop holding that over you? And now you’re going to bring him up?”
“Well it’s just… well there might be a possibility it’s the same guy I’m talking to on the phone,” John said. Harry shut off the water and dried her hands while she looked at him. He could tell she didn’t believe him.
“I’m not gonna say it isn’t, but what makes you think that’s even fucking possible? Random cell phone caller turns out to be dark and mysterious one night stand from last Christmas? Sounds more like stalker to me,” she said.
“First of all, please don’t use that language. Second, it wasn’t a one night stand. It was just a kiss,” John defended, going red in the face.
“I may have been smashed, Johnny, but even I can’t forget the way you looked. You and him were hiding by the barn. You were on the wall, and he was down your throat, and it didn’t look to me like either of you were gonna stop if I hadn’t have caught you,” Harry reminded. “The next day, he was gone and no one from the party knew who he was. Brother, I love you, but that was a John Watson one night stand.”
“Fine. But do you remember what his name was?” John asked, certain his face was boiling. He had not forgotten the experience, but hearing Harry explain it was far too embarrassing.
“Nope. I never knew it. Only identifying thing he ever said that I heard was that he called you Dr. Watson like he knew you. Can we talk while we clean? Christmas is over, and I need a drink to handle the amount of stupid in the other room.” She already had a glass of wine beside her on the counter, but it was down to one good gulp.
John shrugged and grabbed the next dish on the pile to wash. He remembered too. The dark haired man with slim but strong arms, with enough strength to move John wherever he wanted - not that it had taken much to make John accept the movements. He’d been a little more than tipsy and definitely wanting of some physical contact before the guy had even approached him. Finding out your decade long crush was getting married had a way of doing that to you. But then there was him, moving in without an introduction.
He’d set his hand on John’s left shoulder, rubbed it soothingly, and then led John around the barn. It was by far the hottest ten minutes of John’s life, as sad as that may be. He also remembered, like his sister, the way the paler man had addressed him as ‘Doctor’, had spoken like they knew each other, and the more he thought on it, the more he noticed how often the stranger had caressed his shoulder and arm.
Was it possible that had been Sherlock? But… Sherlock had said he was about to kiss a doctor right before John went in for presents. That was only about two hours ago, but the snogging had taken place a year ago at a party. It was possible Sherlock was saying the date and mentioning things as though they were current just to make John remember. Although Sherlock had claimed to be standing in hail the other day, and it had definitely hailed last year and not this year. He’d checked.
John frowned as he handed his sister the last plate. Sherlock was right. The apple cider had been lacking a cinnamon kick… John paused as soon as he pulled the stopper out of the sink. Sherlock had been completely sober. That meant… That meant…
“God, if you get a hard on washing dishes, I’m never speaking to you again. That’s well bad, John,” Harry complained. She sounded slightly disgusted, but John understood. Harriett hated penises more than most things on the planet. John smiled and shook his head.
“No. I’m fine,” he assured her. “I just thought of something surprising.”
“Good. I’m gonna go find some more wine now… and maybe something stronger if Pop forgot to lock the cabinet again,” Harry said, turning from the sink and tossing her towel on the counter.
“You really shouldn’t drink so much, Harry,” John warned, but she just waved over her shoulder and kept walking. John sighed. Sometimes she was a sweetheart and sometimes John just didn’t know how to handle her.
Speaking of handling things, John had no idea where to go from here with Sherlock. Was it possible Sherlock was the guy he’d snogged last Christmas? And was it possible it had truly just happened for Sherlock? No wonder Sherlock had been so interested. This was a mystery built for the greatest minds in science fiction, and a good mystery seemed to excite Sherlock almost as much as John got by just thinking about last Christmas.
Speaking of which… John frowned again and quickly made his way into a bathroom until he could find a way to stop thinking about it.
Click for Chapter 6!
Click HERE for the MasterPost!
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Current Word Count: 12,239
Current Chapter Count: 5
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't even totally own the idea.
Warnings: Possible Character Death
Summary: AU John needs a new phone, one that doesn’t bend time and space and have an annoying man on the other end who claims to be the world’s greatest detective, except that he can’t figure out how he accidentally called Dr. Watson instead of his brother.
-- -- -- -- --
Chapter 5
“See you in two days!”
That had been the cheerful departure to which John had been privileged to on the day he left the hospital on Christmas Eve. Part of John had thought, had seriously considered, skipping his family Christmas party to stay at the police station and look through that case file box. There was just so much information in it. He had barely scratched the surface. Perhaps Sherlock was rubbing off on him in some ways. John was trying to do detective work. He wasn’t even particularly observant. How was he supposed to catch a secretive mob boss if not even the previous detective on the case, who had compiled so much information on the suspect, couldn’t?
John shook his head as he hopped on the train. There was no point thinking about it now. He was headed home for one day of celebration and then it was back to London for work. He could mull over such things when he returned. Right now it was Christmas, and there was a bigger issue at hand.
He hadn’t even asked Sherlock what he wanted for Christmas!
The old woman beside John jumped when he groaned pathetically and smashed his face into his hands. A light pain shot through his shoulder, but he took that as retribution. He was a terrible friend! He was a coward too, apparently. He’d been telling himself to ask Sherlock about Christmas all week, and what did he do? He danced around the subject and waited for Sherlock to ask him instead. Bloody good that did!
“I say, Dear, are you alright?” the old woman asked worriedly.
John groaned softer and rubbed his face down as he sat up straight. “Yes. Yes. Sorry about that.”
“You seem awfully troubled by something,” the woman continued. Her curly blonde hair was groomed into that general old lady style, where it just seemed to fluff around her head in a fuzzy halo sort of way.
“I was just thinking about how this new friend of mine talks to me all the time, and I feel really close to him, but I didn’t even have the nerve to get him a Christmas present,” John admitted. He’d always believed a stranger was a good person to tell things to. This old lady would probably never see him again, so what did it matter if she knew how dumb John was?
“I’m sure he’ll understand. My husband did when I forgot our first anniversary. I’m sure this friend of yours will too.” She pat John’s knee and smiled with her crooked teeth.
“You forgot your first anniversary?” John asked. Wasn’t that kind of an important date?
The old woman nodded. “Yes, I did. I was just so busy running my shop that it completely left my memory. I’m afraid I have a great memory now, but I wasn’t very observant in the past.”
John chuckled. “Sounds like me. I miss obvious things all the time,” he said. “I’m John Watson.” And he held his hand out to shake.
“Call me Ms. Hudson. Everybody else does. It’s the name of my shop too,” she said and winked as she shook his hand.
“In London? I’ll be sure to look it up after the holidays,” John assured. “You off to meet family as well?”
“Sort of,” Ms. Hudson said, frowning suddenly. She placed her hands over her purse in her lap and let out a tiny sigh, something suiting an old woman. “I’m going to visit the grave of a very prestigious man I once knew. The world may be no less happy without him, but it is far less bright. He was my last remaining family… even though we weren’t really related.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” John said, and this time he pat her leg. She smiled warmly at the gesture.
“It’s all in the past now, Deary. I’ve moved on. But as I have no one else to spend the holidays with, I figured he was better than being alone on Christmas. And you? You’re going to see your family?” She opened her purse and began to move things around inside it.
“Yep. My mum, my dad, my sister, and my sister’s girlfriend,” John said. At the mention of a girlfriend, Ms. Hudson looked up jovially.
“Oh isn’t that nice? I bet they’re the stuff of all sorts of gossip,” she said. John chuckled again.
“Oh yes, and they tend to enjoy it more often than not. Also, if we’re lucky, my uncle will come too. See, his wife died in May and I haven’t seen much of him since. Mum invited him, but only time will tell if he shows,” John explained.
“Oh time,” Ms. Hudson snorted. “Yes. Only time will explain the mysteries in life. Only time explains life and death. Well I’ve known enough time, and I still don’t understand a lot of this life.”
“Really?” John asked, smiling. “You don’t look like you’ve seen more than… forty years.”
Ms. Hudson pushed gently on his shoulder and laughed. “Oh you do remind me of my husband - in the early years, before he went abroad and murdered some poor stripper.”
“Thanks?” John replied, and Ms. Hudson laughed more.
-- -- -- --
“John, come open your gifts!” Harry’s voice called from inside. John tugged the sleeves of his sweater down farther as he paced back and forth outside under the overhang. Ice clung to every surface of the patio. A sloppy thin snow coated the yard.
“Are you standing out in the cold?” Sherlock asked. John could hear him drinking something from a cup.
“It’s easier to have a private conversation outside. Otherwise they’d all listen in,” John explained, stamping his feet.
“You should have at least worn a jacket,” Sherlock scolded, but he sounded amused. “And your sister seems the type to be hovering by the glass door to hear everything you’re saying anyway.”
“Well yes, but how did you know…,” John turned slowly and looked inside through the glass. Harriett was there, plastered to the edge of the glass sliding door and staring out at him like a gossip demon. John gave a start and held his chest. “Jesus, Harriett! Trying to give me a bloody heart attack?”
“Uncle brought presents with him that I want to open, but you’re taking forever. Tell your stupid boyfriend you’ll call him back,” she said and stuck her tongue out childishly. John returned the gesture.
“Not my boyfriend,” he said in a loud whisper, hand over the phone so Sherlock wouldn’t hear. “Now get. I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Fine. Just don’t freeze to death,” Harry warned and turned from the door.
“That was your sister, wasn’t it?” Sherlock asked, sounding pleased. John sighed.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you do that. You knew how she would be acting, and you know my parents have a sliding glass door. How did you guess that one?” the doctor asked, scuffing a thick patch of ice and sending it into the tiny yard.
“I didn’t. I’ve seen the house. It was rather quaint, but this one I’m at right now is quite a bit larger. Your uncle’s place, I believe,” Sherlock explained. “Lovely apple cider too. Could use a bit more cinnamon, though.”
“What? What are you doing at my uncle’s?” John gasped.
“Where were you last year, John?” Sherlock asked, switching subjects.
“Exactly where you are, apparently. My uncle was hosting a really big party. Now why are you there?” John asked again.
“I wanted to give you a present,” Sherlock said, and John heard him take a large gulp of his drink. He frowned. Sherlock had come to North York with a present for John…
“Y-yeah, about that… um… I’ve been meaning to ask you what you wanted for Christmas, but I… Well I didn’t know if we were at that stage of a relationship to be giving gifts yet,” John said, forgetting his worry over Sherlock being only a few miles away.
“Oh don’t let something silly bother you,” Sherlock said. “You’re about to give me a great gift.”
“Excuse me?”
“Or rather, I suppose I’m about to give you a great gift,” Sherlock amended. He let out a heavy sigh, as though something bothersome was happening, and then cleared his throat.
“I’m still not following,” John said. “Sorry. But how are you going to give me a present if you’re at my uncle’s house?”
“What’s the full date, Dr. Watson?” Sherlock asked.
“25th December, 2009,” John answered suspiciously. “Sherlock stop changing subjects when I ask questions, please.”
“I’m not. I’m just hoping I’m about to make a good enough impression to make a memory that lasts to next year,” the detective said. John could hear him crack a smile when he spoke next. “I have to go now, but I’ll call you tomorrow. I have to kiss a rather attractive doctor right now, this 25th day of December - year 2008.”
John wasn’t sure what had stunned him more - Sherlock’s last remarks, the oddity of the entire conversation, or the sudden lack of sound caused by Sherlock hanging up.
-- -- -- --
It was after dinner that the memory became clearer for John. He’d been trying to make heads or tails of Sherlock’s comments on the phone, why he would say a different year, why he would tell John he was about to kiss someone… why he said any of that mumbo jumbo. And as he and Harriet were washing the dishes from dinner, it suddenly reminded him. He handed a soap covered plate to his sister and watched her wash it off before speaking.
“Hey, Harry, do you remember Uncle’s party last year?” he asked. He saw the rise and fall of her shoulders before he heard the sigh.
“Yeah? So?” she asked, setting the newly washed plate on the rack to dry. “Are we going to talk about that guy you kissed again? Didn’t you tell me on the phone a little while ago to stop holding that over you? And now you’re going to bring him up?”
“Well it’s just… well there might be a possibility it’s the same guy I’m talking to on the phone,” John said. Harry shut off the water and dried her hands while she looked at him. He could tell she didn’t believe him.
“I’m not gonna say it isn’t, but what makes you think that’s even fucking possible? Random cell phone caller turns out to be dark and mysterious one night stand from last Christmas? Sounds more like stalker to me,” she said.
“First of all, please don’t use that language. Second, it wasn’t a one night stand. It was just a kiss,” John defended, going red in the face.
“I may have been smashed, Johnny, but even I can’t forget the way you looked. You and him were hiding by the barn. You were on the wall, and he was down your throat, and it didn’t look to me like either of you were gonna stop if I hadn’t have caught you,” Harry reminded. “The next day, he was gone and no one from the party knew who he was. Brother, I love you, but that was a John Watson one night stand.”
“Fine. But do you remember what his name was?” John asked, certain his face was boiling. He had not forgotten the experience, but hearing Harry explain it was far too embarrassing.
“Nope. I never knew it. Only identifying thing he ever said that I heard was that he called you Dr. Watson like he knew you. Can we talk while we clean? Christmas is over, and I need a drink to handle the amount of stupid in the other room.” She already had a glass of wine beside her on the counter, but it was down to one good gulp.
John shrugged and grabbed the next dish on the pile to wash. He remembered too. The dark haired man with slim but strong arms, with enough strength to move John wherever he wanted - not that it had taken much to make John accept the movements. He’d been a little more than tipsy and definitely wanting of some physical contact before the guy had even approached him. Finding out your decade long crush was getting married had a way of doing that to you. But then there was him, moving in without an introduction.
He’d set his hand on John’s left shoulder, rubbed it soothingly, and then led John around the barn. It was by far the hottest ten minutes of John’s life, as sad as that may be. He also remembered, like his sister, the way the paler man had addressed him as ‘Doctor’, had spoken like they knew each other, and the more he thought on it, the more he noticed how often the stranger had caressed his shoulder and arm.
Was it possible that had been Sherlock? But… Sherlock had said he was about to kiss a doctor right before John went in for presents. That was only about two hours ago, but the snogging had taken place a year ago at a party. It was possible Sherlock was saying the date and mentioning things as though they were current just to make John remember. Although Sherlock had claimed to be standing in hail the other day, and it had definitely hailed last year and not this year. He’d checked.
John frowned as he handed his sister the last plate. Sherlock was right. The apple cider had been lacking a cinnamon kick… John paused as soon as he pulled the stopper out of the sink. Sherlock had been completely sober. That meant… That meant…
“God, if you get a hard on washing dishes, I’m never speaking to you again. That’s well bad, John,” Harry complained. She sounded slightly disgusted, but John understood. Harriett hated penises more than most things on the planet. John smiled and shook his head.
“No. I’m fine,” he assured her. “I just thought of something surprising.”
“Good. I’m gonna go find some more wine now… and maybe something stronger if Pop forgot to lock the cabinet again,” Harry said, turning from the sink and tossing her towel on the counter.
“You really shouldn’t drink so much, Harry,” John warned, but she just waved over her shoulder and kept walking. John sighed. Sometimes she was a sweetheart and sometimes John just didn’t know how to handle her.
Speaking of handling things, John had no idea where to go from here with Sherlock. Was it possible Sherlock was the guy he’d snogged last Christmas? And was it possible it had truly just happened for Sherlock? No wonder Sherlock had been so interested. This was a mystery built for the greatest minds in science fiction, and a good mystery seemed to excite Sherlock almost as much as John got by just thinking about last Christmas.
Speaking of which… John frowned again and quickly made his way into a bathroom until he could find a way to stop thinking about it.
Click for Chapter 6!
Click HERE for the MasterPost!