The Merry Widow Chapter 3 of a Complicated Life. WIP Chapter 4 coming v soon!
The Merry Widow:
Chapter 3 of ‘A Complicated Life’
Asexual Sherlock/Straight John, Fluffy, PG for Swearing. No sexual content YET!. Aromance in it’s early stages.
Summary: John and Sherlock return to 221b an give Mrs Hudson a surprise.
A Complicated Life (future Chapters contain Asexual Sherlock/Straight but not narrow John, Jim Moriarty/Molly and John/Molly. Scenes of drug taking, violence, angst, fluff and SEX).
Written by Sherlocks_Pants
Disclaimer: Sadly Sherlock and anything affiliated with the BBC UKs Sherlock is not owned by me. I just care for them deeply. I am BRITISH so please understand it will have Anglophile content and the spelling may be different!
John woke suddenly, his eyes were burning and there was an intense throbbing somewhere behind them deep in his skull. It took him a few moments to realise he was not alone in the flat. He could hear movement in the other room.
Slowly he slid a hand under his pillow feeling for his gun but as he did so he caught sight of it on the coffee table atop his Laptop. He sat up, his body first, dragging his head behind it, as he righted himself his stomach lurched and the familiar nausea returned. It dawned on him, last night had not been a dream, Sherlock was here, and he was not dead. “Oh thank God” even speaking was causing him pain “Oh God, my head” he murmured holding his head in his hands. A far too loud and cheerful Sherlock entered the room “Morning John! Come on its five thirty already”
“Ugh” John raised his eyes to look at him.
Sherlock was stood in the doorway, towel drying his wet black curls after a shower. “Are you wearing my boxers?” John asked huffily clutching his stomach. “Yes, forgot my clean ones, bit tight though” Sherlock replied flicking his hair into place. He strode back out into the hallway; John could hear him unzipping the drycleaners bag his driver had delivered the night before. “Not the first time I suppose” John groaned replacing his head in his hands.
Sherlock returned wearing black Saville Row trousers and a crisp white shirt, I was possibly a size too small for him, his shirts always seemed a size to small. John had always said this was because he was a “peacock”, Sherlock dismissed this notion but secretly he kind of liked the idea.
“Are you going to get dressed?” he directed at John. John rose to his feet unsteadily, wincing and closing his eyes against the pain. “Yes, give me an hour I will be fine, just need some Vitamin B and some carbohydrates, Marmite on toast, want any?” John shuffled off to the kitchen, finding surprisingly that Sherlock had actually cleared up the takeaway they had left on the table and had already made a pot of coffee.
“No, we don have an our I wan to get there firs thing when she gets up. “ He garbled, now cleaning his teeth.
John felt the pot, it was already getting cold but he poured a cup anyway, anything would do when he felt this shit.
“Who?” John replied. Sherlock walked into the kitchen and was now wearing the suits matching jacket and was fastening the buttons.
“Mrs Hudson of course”. John looked at him eyes wide. “You aren’t serious, Sherlock, you cannot just turn up first thing in the morning.” He cocked his head mimicking the other man’s voice” Oh Hello, I’m not dead, cup of tea please Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock smiled at this. “She is 75 for Christ’s sake, the shock could kill her”.
“Yes, I know John which is why you are going to help me with the ‘surprise’.
“Oh yes Sherlock, that’s going to be some surprise” John shook his head in disbelief. “You look…..nice, by the way”.
Straitening his jacket Sherlock raised his chin and puffed out his chest “I just wanted to be able to be myself again; I am bored of being someone else. You have seen me in a suit before John; you have never complimented me then, why now?” Sherlock frowned.
John sipped his coffee and winced at the bitterness. “Well Sherlock, the last time I saw you in a suit, you were dead.…”
Sherlock waited impatiently for John as he slowly felt a little more human again. The advantage of being a Doctor is you always know the best hang over cures. Sherlock threw some items in a bag for him, a few clothes, and the left over brandy, his laptop, his gun, just the essentials. He paced the floor irritably he was determined remain clean today at least. The next few days counted and it could cost both himself and John their lives. After exactly thirty eight minutes John stood waiting for him in the doorway of the bedroom, in his jeans, and yet another ‘hideous’ jumper as Sherlock would view it. There was a knock at the door and Johns eyes flashed to his friend. “Your man again?”
Sherlock opened the door and outside was the black Jag with its driver patiently holding open the rear passenger door. John quickly locked up and followed Sherlock to the car. John looked at the driver, middle aged looked possibly ex army, stocky, looked like he could handle himself in a fight. John smiled and thanked him; he did not answer but touched his cap and returned to the driver’s seat.
John turned to Sherlock as the car pulled away “Why the car? Bit different from Taxis, since when did you become your brother? Sherlock glared at him. “I will NEVER be like my brother John…I just use it as it’s bullet proof, makes me feel a little safer at the moment. “
John still wasn’t feeling too good, his stomach felt as though acid was eating away at the lining. He would be glad when they reached Baker Street. “Ahh right, our friend Moran, are you really that worried he is following you?” Sherlock did not answer.
On the drive there amongst the rush hour traffic, they discussed how they were going to do this exactly without killing Mrs Hudson…
Firstly, they did not pull up directly outside the 221b, Sherlock asked the driver to drop them outside the Beehive pub in Crawford Street and they walked from there. This way it was unlikely Mrs H would see them from the windows. Sherlock pulled up his collar as he casually walked past the Sandwich shop below, hoping no one would notice him, and then flattening himself against the door frame he waited for John to open it. He had tried to give Mrs Hudson back his key, but had never quite managed it. Since Mary had left he had been here more often just to visit Mrs Hudson or sit and think in his old chair. Occasionally he would place Sherlock’s Violin across his lap and run his fingers along the strings, breathing in the smell of the wood; it had just made him feel closer to him. He felt perhaps once day he would come back for it; and now here he was.
“Mrs Hudson? Its okay, only me” he knocked on her door in the hallway.
She opened the door, she was an early riser and although still in her slippers she was already in a print wrap-over dress, and wearing her makeup and jewellery.
She held out her hands to touch John’s cold cheeks. “Oh John, your early dear is there something wrong? Aren’t you meant to be at the surgery?” She turned and immediately walked towards the fridge, presumably to get milk.
“John entered the kitchen behind her and gently closed her door” Behind him in the hallway Sherlock had entered and was quietly making his way upstairs to the flat.
“Well, yes, Mrs Hudson, I have something important to tell you”
“Oh is it Mary, is she back? Oh I knew she would be…cup of tea, I’ve just made a pot?” She poured a little of the milk into a small white jug and placed it on the table.
“Yes, I mean no, Yes to the tea, no, not Mary” Johns smile dropped.
Mrs Hudson poured two cups from the pot and placed them in front of them and sat down. John gestured to them “You may need another...”
“What love?” she was getting a bit hard of hearing lately; John was glad she hadn’t heard him but continued…
“Mrs Hudson, I have something to tell you…” there was a soft thud upstairs, and John cursed Sherlock for being so clumsy sometimes. “Mrs Hudson, you have to stay calm, I have something to tell you…” She gently touched his hand.
“Yes dear? Please tell me, you are worrying me, you are not ill are you? I know Molly’s Mums not been right, she said she was having a test or something... “
“Really?” John was generally surprised he hadn’t spoken to Molly much since Mary had left. However, he had to try and tell her this before she heard anything upstairs…”This is going to be a shock…I can’t say it any other way… It’s Sherlock, he is not dead, truthfully, he is alive!” Mrs Hudson looked at John with genuine pity, the amount of times she had heard him say this, poor boy he really was going a bit loopy.”John dear, please don’t do this, we have been through all this” John was getting desperate now and raised his voice almost to a shout. “NO, really Mrs Hudson, he is HERE! Sherlock is alive, please, and I needed to tell you before the idiot frightened you to death! He came to me yesterday, please come with me…” and he held out a hand to her.
Mrs Hudson was stunned, John had never raised his voice to her before, out of the two boys, John was always the calm, gentle one. Was he telling the truth? She felt a little dizzy; her blood pressure was not too good these days.
“Mrs Hudson, are you okay? Do you understand?” Then a slow light hum came from upstairs, then another, plucking, and lower hums. Both Mrs Hudson and John raised their eyes to the ceiling. Mrs Hudson clasped a hand to her throat as a small whimper escaped.
John smiled “Do you see Mrs Hudson?” and again he held out his hand. She took it blindly as she still stared at the ceiling. Walking her slowly out into the hallway, the woman that had become John and Sherlock’s substitute mother started to cry silent tears which trickled down her soft cheeks.
They slowly made their way to the stairs. “Its okay” said John “Go ahead, it’s okay, it really is him”
Holding on to the banister she gingerly placed one foot in front of the other. The sound had stopped altogether. Mrs Hudson turned to look at John shaking her head “No “she whispered. He nodded to her and as he did so another sound came to their ears. The sound of a Violin playing a Waltz…something they both recognised. Mrs Hudson clapped a hand to her mouth and whimpered. Behind her John gently urged her on, his hands gently on her hips and quietly smiled the words “The Merry Widow, it’s your song Mrs Hudson”. This broke her, she wailed and almost tripping up the last steps she hurried towards 221b. Reaching the doorway she stopped and her eyes grew wide at the sight of a familiar outline at the window. A tall slim man playing the Violin, his form blacked out against the light from the street.
“Sherlock?” she said her voice quavering. He put down his violin and turned to her grinning with his arms outstretched.
“Hello, I’m not dead! Cup of tea please Mrs Hudson” and with a wink he looked at John who was gently steadying her. John raised his eyebrows and tutted, his eyes heavy with emotion.
Her face was a jumble of emotions, anger, shock, sadness, happiness, tears bursting forth uncontrollably, she ran towards him and clasped him to her, she hugged him with all her strength and mumbling into his chest she said. “You evil boy, buggering damn you, you naughty, evil boy, you, would, Oh Sherlock” and she sobbed, her tears soaking his shirt. Sherlock hugged her back rocking her slightly from side to side. “Tut, Tut Mrs. Hudson, you wonderful woman, it’s not like you to swear”. He was genuinely delighted to see her. “If you soak my shirt like that you will have to wash it for me” he placed a kiss on the top of her head, pulled her away and smiled at her warmly.
She looked up at him her eyes red with tears “I’m still not your housekeeper Sherlock” then she tried to control herself as another sob racked forth.
“John, Brandy!” he pointed at John’s bag.
John who stood, agog at this joyous sight, his two friends reunited, quickly snapped out of his reverie and searched for the Brandy. Despite being so early, his hangover could do with a hair of the dog, so he also searched for some clean glasses in the kitchen. He was pleased to come across Sherlock’s favourite ‘Home Sweet Home’ Tea Set, and his eyes welled up again. ‘God’ he thought ‘he was going to have to man up, this was getting ridiculous.’
“Just that cup of tea for me please, John” Sherlock guided Mrs Hudson to the sofa, she was talking so quickly now, asking him all the things John had wanted to ask, how, when, why etc. John could tell Sherlock was going to get a bit bored of this. “Never mind all that Mrs Hudson, I have more important things to arrange, and you leaving this house safely is one of them”. She continued asking him ‘what on earth was he talking about?’ He lost his patience “MRS HUDSON PLEASE! Do you know if this had been 1890 I would have slapped you by now for being hysterical, and forced smelling salts upon you? PLEASE be quiet!” She looked at him a little shaken, but watched him intently.
“Sherlock please don’t shout at her, she has had a shock…” John handed a small glass of Brandy to Mrs Hudson and quickly downed his own. “There’s no tea so I will go and get the pot from downstairs.
Soon John returned with the tea tray and 3 cups and some extra tea bags. “I wasn’t sure there was enough water so I boiled some more”.
Mrs Hudson had calmed down and was sitting on the sofa next to Sherlock with her hand clasped tightly to his knee, as though she was checking he was physically still there and with the other she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Sherlock was staring at the ceiling his head resting on the flock wallpaper.
John placed everything down on the old coffee table and sat opposite in his chair.
Sherlock waited breathing deeply until all the teas were poured, sugars stirred and cups raised.
He explained that, Moran was going to make another attempt on his life and as soon as it was out he was back at the flat it was the least safe place to be. Mrs Hudson needed to get out for a few days, a week maybe, and John and he would ‘deal’ with Moran. Of course she complained she had no noise or excitement for three years and then he waltzes back in and turns her world upside down again wanting her to leave her own house of all things.
“But you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sherlock threw John a look that said ‘nor would you’.
John just smiled “No, we wouldn’t, would we Mrs Hudson”.
Chapter 3 of ‘A Complicated Life’
Asexual Sherlock/Straight John, Fluffy, PG for Swearing. No sexual content YET!. Aromance in it’s early stages.
Summary: John and Sherlock return to 221b an give Mrs Hudson a surprise.
A Complicated Life (future Chapters contain Asexual Sherlock/Straight but not narrow John, Jim Moriarty/Molly and John/Molly. Scenes of drug taking, violence, angst, fluff and SEX).
Written by Sherlocks_Pants
Disclaimer: Sadly Sherlock and anything affiliated with the BBC UKs Sherlock is not owned by me. I just care for them deeply. I am BRITISH so please understand it will have Anglophile content and the spelling may be different!
John woke suddenly, his eyes were burning and there was an intense throbbing somewhere behind them deep in his skull. It took him a few moments to realise he was not alone in the flat. He could hear movement in the other room.
Slowly he slid a hand under his pillow feeling for his gun but as he did so he caught sight of it on the coffee table atop his Laptop. He sat up, his body first, dragging his head behind it, as he righted himself his stomach lurched and the familiar nausea returned. It dawned on him, last night had not been a dream, Sherlock was here, and he was not dead. “Oh thank God” even speaking was causing him pain “Oh God, my head” he murmured holding his head in his hands. A far too loud and cheerful Sherlock entered the room “Morning John! Come on its five thirty already”
“Ugh” John raised his eyes to look at him.
Sherlock was stood in the doorway, towel drying his wet black curls after a shower. “Are you wearing my boxers?” John asked huffily clutching his stomach. “Yes, forgot my clean ones, bit tight though” Sherlock replied flicking his hair into place. He strode back out into the hallway; John could hear him unzipping the drycleaners bag his driver had delivered the night before. “Not the first time I suppose” John groaned replacing his head in his hands.
Sherlock returned wearing black Saville Row trousers and a crisp white shirt, I was possibly a size too small for him, his shirts always seemed a size to small. John had always said this was because he was a “peacock”, Sherlock dismissed this notion but secretly he kind of liked the idea.
“Are you going to get dressed?” he directed at John. John rose to his feet unsteadily, wincing and closing his eyes against the pain. “Yes, give me an hour I will be fine, just need some Vitamin B and some carbohydrates, Marmite on toast, want any?” John shuffled off to the kitchen, finding surprisingly that Sherlock had actually cleared up the takeaway they had left on the table and had already made a pot of coffee.
“No, we don have an our I wan to get there firs thing when she gets up. “ He garbled, now cleaning his teeth.
John felt the pot, it was already getting cold but he poured a cup anyway, anything would do when he felt this shit.
“Who?” John replied. Sherlock walked into the kitchen and was now wearing the suits matching jacket and was fastening the buttons.
“Mrs Hudson of course”. John looked at him eyes wide. “You aren’t serious, Sherlock, you cannot just turn up first thing in the morning.” He cocked his head mimicking the other man’s voice” Oh Hello, I’m not dead, cup of tea please Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock smiled at this. “She is 75 for Christ’s sake, the shock could kill her”.
“Yes, I know John which is why you are going to help me with the ‘surprise’.
“Oh yes Sherlock, that’s going to be some surprise” John shook his head in disbelief. “You look…..nice, by the way”.
Straitening his jacket Sherlock raised his chin and puffed out his chest “I just wanted to be able to be myself again; I am bored of being someone else. You have seen me in a suit before John; you have never complimented me then, why now?” Sherlock frowned.
John sipped his coffee and winced at the bitterness. “Well Sherlock, the last time I saw you in a suit, you were dead.…”
Sherlock waited impatiently for John as he slowly felt a little more human again. The advantage of being a Doctor is you always know the best hang over cures. Sherlock threw some items in a bag for him, a few clothes, and the left over brandy, his laptop, his gun, just the essentials. He paced the floor irritably he was determined remain clean today at least. The next few days counted and it could cost both himself and John their lives. After exactly thirty eight minutes John stood waiting for him in the doorway of the bedroom, in his jeans, and yet another ‘hideous’ jumper as Sherlock would view it. There was a knock at the door and Johns eyes flashed to his friend. “Your man again?”
Sherlock opened the door and outside was the black Jag with its driver patiently holding open the rear passenger door. John quickly locked up and followed Sherlock to the car. John looked at the driver, middle aged looked possibly ex army, stocky, looked like he could handle himself in a fight. John smiled and thanked him; he did not answer but touched his cap and returned to the driver’s seat.
John turned to Sherlock as the car pulled away “Why the car? Bit different from Taxis, since when did you become your brother? Sherlock glared at him. “I will NEVER be like my brother John…I just use it as it’s bullet proof, makes me feel a little safer at the moment. “
John still wasn’t feeling too good, his stomach felt as though acid was eating away at the lining. He would be glad when they reached Baker Street. “Ahh right, our friend Moran, are you really that worried he is following you?” Sherlock did not answer.
On the drive there amongst the rush hour traffic, they discussed how they were going to do this exactly without killing Mrs Hudson…
Firstly, they did not pull up directly outside the 221b, Sherlock asked the driver to drop them outside the Beehive pub in Crawford Street and they walked from there. This way it was unlikely Mrs H would see them from the windows. Sherlock pulled up his collar as he casually walked past the Sandwich shop below, hoping no one would notice him, and then flattening himself against the door frame he waited for John to open it. He had tried to give Mrs Hudson back his key, but had never quite managed it. Since Mary had left he had been here more often just to visit Mrs Hudson or sit and think in his old chair. Occasionally he would place Sherlock’s Violin across his lap and run his fingers along the strings, breathing in the smell of the wood; it had just made him feel closer to him. He felt perhaps once day he would come back for it; and now here he was.
“Mrs Hudson? Its okay, only me” he knocked on her door in the hallway.
She opened the door, she was an early riser and although still in her slippers she was already in a print wrap-over dress, and wearing her makeup and jewellery.
She held out her hands to touch John’s cold cheeks. “Oh John, your early dear is there something wrong? Aren’t you meant to be at the surgery?” She turned and immediately walked towards the fridge, presumably to get milk.
“John entered the kitchen behind her and gently closed her door” Behind him in the hallway Sherlock had entered and was quietly making his way upstairs to the flat.
“Well, yes, Mrs Hudson, I have something important to tell you”
“Oh is it Mary, is she back? Oh I knew she would be…cup of tea, I’ve just made a pot?” She poured a little of the milk into a small white jug and placed it on the table.
“Yes, I mean no, Yes to the tea, no, not Mary” Johns smile dropped.
Mrs Hudson poured two cups from the pot and placed them in front of them and sat down. John gestured to them “You may need another...”
“What love?” she was getting a bit hard of hearing lately; John was glad she hadn’t heard him but continued…
“Mrs Hudson, I have something to tell you…” there was a soft thud upstairs, and John cursed Sherlock for being so clumsy sometimes. “Mrs Hudson, you have to stay calm, I have something to tell you…” She gently touched his hand.
“Yes dear? Please tell me, you are worrying me, you are not ill are you? I know Molly’s Mums not been right, she said she was having a test or something... “
“Really?” John was generally surprised he hadn’t spoken to Molly much since Mary had left. However, he had to try and tell her this before she heard anything upstairs…”This is going to be a shock…I can’t say it any other way… It’s Sherlock, he is not dead, truthfully, he is alive!” Mrs Hudson looked at John with genuine pity, the amount of times she had heard him say this, poor boy he really was going a bit loopy.”John dear, please don’t do this, we have been through all this” John was getting desperate now and raised his voice almost to a shout. “NO, really Mrs Hudson, he is HERE! Sherlock is alive, please, and I needed to tell you before the idiot frightened you to death! He came to me yesterday, please come with me…” and he held out a hand to her.
Mrs Hudson was stunned, John had never raised his voice to her before, out of the two boys, John was always the calm, gentle one. Was he telling the truth? She felt a little dizzy; her blood pressure was not too good these days.
“Mrs Hudson, are you okay? Do you understand?” Then a slow light hum came from upstairs, then another, plucking, and lower hums. Both Mrs Hudson and John raised their eyes to the ceiling. Mrs Hudson clasped a hand to her throat as a small whimper escaped.
John smiled “Do you see Mrs Hudson?” and again he held out his hand. She took it blindly as she still stared at the ceiling. Walking her slowly out into the hallway, the woman that had become John and Sherlock’s substitute mother started to cry silent tears which trickled down her soft cheeks.
They slowly made their way to the stairs. “Its okay” said John “Go ahead, it’s okay, it really is him”
Holding on to the banister she gingerly placed one foot in front of the other. The sound had stopped altogether. Mrs Hudson turned to look at John shaking her head “No “she whispered. He nodded to her and as he did so another sound came to their ears. The sound of a Violin playing a Waltz…something they both recognised. Mrs Hudson clapped a hand to her mouth and whimpered. Behind her John gently urged her on, his hands gently on her hips and quietly smiled the words “The Merry Widow, it’s your song Mrs Hudson”. This broke her, she wailed and almost tripping up the last steps she hurried towards 221b. Reaching the doorway she stopped and her eyes grew wide at the sight of a familiar outline at the window. A tall slim man playing the Violin, his form blacked out against the light from the street.
“Sherlock?” she said her voice quavering. He put down his violin and turned to her grinning with his arms outstretched.
“Hello, I’m not dead! Cup of tea please Mrs Hudson” and with a wink he looked at John who was gently steadying her. John raised his eyebrows and tutted, his eyes heavy with emotion.
Her face was a jumble of emotions, anger, shock, sadness, happiness, tears bursting forth uncontrollably, she ran towards him and clasped him to her, she hugged him with all her strength and mumbling into his chest she said. “You evil boy, buggering damn you, you naughty, evil boy, you, would, Oh Sherlock” and she sobbed, her tears soaking his shirt. Sherlock hugged her back rocking her slightly from side to side. “Tut, Tut Mrs. Hudson, you wonderful woman, it’s not like you to swear”. He was genuinely delighted to see her. “If you soak my shirt like that you will have to wash it for me” he placed a kiss on the top of her head, pulled her away and smiled at her warmly.
She looked up at him her eyes red with tears “I’m still not your housekeeper Sherlock” then she tried to control herself as another sob racked forth.
“John, Brandy!” he pointed at John’s bag.
John who stood, agog at this joyous sight, his two friends reunited, quickly snapped out of his reverie and searched for the Brandy. Despite being so early, his hangover could do with a hair of the dog, so he also searched for some clean glasses in the kitchen. He was pleased to come across Sherlock’s favourite ‘Home Sweet Home’ Tea Set, and his eyes welled up again. ‘God’ he thought ‘he was going to have to man up, this was getting ridiculous.’
“Just that cup of tea for me please, John” Sherlock guided Mrs Hudson to the sofa, she was talking so quickly now, asking him all the things John had wanted to ask, how, when, why etc. John could tell Sherlock was going to get a bit bored of this. “Never mind all that Mrs Hudson, I have more important things to arrange, and you leaving this house safely is one of them”. She continued asking him ‘what on earth was he talking about?’ He lost his patience “MRS HUDSON PLEASE! Do you know if this had been 1890 I would have slapped you by now for being hysterical, and forced smelling salts upon you? PLEASE be quiet!” She looked at him a little shaken, but watched him intently.
“Sherlock please don’t shout at her, she has had a shock…” John handed a small glass of Brandy to Mrs Hudson and quickly downed his own. “There’s no tea so I will go and get the pot from downstairs.
Soon John returned with the tea tray and 3 cups and some extra tea bags. “I wasn’t sure there was enough water so I boiled some more”.
Mrs Hudson had calmed down and was sitting on the sofa next to Sherlock with her hand clasped tightly to his knee, as though she was checking he was physically still there and with the other she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Sherlock was staring at the ceiling his head resting on the flock wallpaper.
John placed everything down on the old coffee table and sat opposite in his chair.
Sherlock waited breathing deeply until all the teas were poured, sugars stirred and cups raised.
He explained that, Moran was going to make another attempt on his life and as soon as it was out he was back at the flat it was the least safe place to be. Mrs Hudson needed to get out for a few days, a week maybe, and John and he would ‘deal’ with Moran. Of course she complained she had no noise or excitement for three years and then he waltzes back in and turns her world upside down again wanting her to leave her own house of all things.
“But you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sherlock threw John a look that said ‘nor would you’.
John just smiled “No, we wouldn’t, would we Mrs Hudson”.