Fic: My blogger’s new Girlfriend
Title: My blogger’s new Girlfriend
Author: missilemuse
Part: 1/2
Wordcount: 1560 in this part
Rating: Gen
Warnings: none
Spoilers: for season 2
Disclaimer: Sherlock and John belong to ACD's grey cells, and each other in that order... Although the B.B.C. version receives full credit for inspiring me to put a pen to paper.
Summary: Sarah, Holly, then someone in-between (damn!), and last but not the least, Jeanette. This time John Watson is determined to make it work. Sherlock may have other ideas, but first, he has to figure out who she is!
Author's notes: Written as a heart-felt tribute for Martin Freeman’s understated yet magnificent performance in 2.01. John held his own, even in the face of smouldering Irene and angsty Sherlock, and I decided he deserved some heart-felt attention. Please review!
John tiptoed into 221B, wanting nothing more than to reach his room without bumping into the the World’s only Consultant Detective. He hated sneaking around Sherlock like this, but the cat and mouse game was paramount to his newly resucitated social life… After Jeanette and the Christmas fiasco, he was taking no chances.
It was the one thing they both had firmly agreed on. Sherlock would know about the relationship on their terms, not before then and definitely not as one of his throw-away deductions.
John had got hold of the shorter end of the stick when it had come down to the logistics of the deal. After all, he lived with the man! On the other hand, there were many upsides. There were no long term expectations, no pressure, and no demands on both sides. He could be Sherlock’s assistant first and still have a girlfriend. She didn’t begrudge him that. And the sex was mind-blowing!
Now, if only Sherlock would stay in his room…
“John, clearly your efforts to tiptoe to your room are both clumsy and trite.”
He jumped out of his skin, upon suddenly hearing the voice at his shoulder. He turned around and gave his fake casual laugh… “What makes you think I was trying anything like that?”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “The tread of your foot-steps on the staircase…usually you take the stairs two at a time, simply because it still pleases you that you can. Illogical, as the limp was psychosomatic. When you get the shopping, you stump up one step at a time. When you’re drunk, you tend to stagger and it takes you an average of 45 seconds-2 minutes longer to make it up the stairs depending on your state of inebriation… this time was distinctly different!”
John spoke through clenched teeth, “Alright, well done! As you so correctly deduced, I would like to go to bed without you badgering me.”
But Sherlock only took one step closer, frowning, eyebrows knitting together; bit not good…
“You’re hiding something from me! It can’t be work, as you didn’t have a shift today. It can’t be your sister, as she still has you convinced of her sobriety. You were indoors for the duration of the evening as it drizzled a bit, but your coat is perfectly dry. You do not smell of beer or the pub… Ah, your shoes…you were on a date!”
“Brilliant deduction…” John said grumpily.
“You’ve been on dates before. And yet you felt the need to hide this one from me…Why?”
John bristled at the implied treachery in the tone of his voice. “You can’t seriously be asking for a reason! Let’s see…because you got me and Sarah kidnapped on our first date, and she broke up with me… because you barged in on Holly and me, in my room when we were about to shag…because you barged in again on me and Bree, not shagging, but you wearing nearly nothing this time… and (he laughed for effect) have you already forgotten the Christmas party last month, where you humiliated Jeanette?”
“Come on, John. They were all boring. You barely even remembered their names!”
It was like talking to a wall, albeit one which could talk back. “Right…my mistake …that I expected you to... understand…”
“You know what’s curious, though, is the extra effort you have gone to, to keep this from me. There’s a wet patch on your shirt-sleeve, where you must have dropped some food. But you have cleaned it carefully. So I can’t see what you were eating, and determine where. I can’t smell her perfume on you, though from your lips; I can make out that you did kiss her. Your jacket appears freshly brushed to rid it of stray hair or fabric…interesting!”
“What…what’s interesting?”
“Had she been a stranger, you wouldn’t have had to go to such lengths to get me to back off. So this is a mutual acquaintance…”
SHIT!
“Goodnight John, you’re right…you do need your rest”, with these words, Sherlock spun on his feet and was gone, before John could even begin to refute the assessment.
Once in his room, John sent the text. They had known that they couldn’t hide this forever, but three weeks was not too bad.
John: SOS… WE NEED TO TELL HIM ASAP.
Reply: GROAN…IT’S GOING SO WELL! HE’LL JINX IT.
John: IT WON’T BE THAT BAD…HOPEFULLY!
Reply: TOMORROW EVENING THEN, PUB, USUAL TIME!
John: GN :)
But John wasn’t smiling as he erased the messages. One part of him was relieved, that the sneaking around would be finally over. It was a pain to not share same toiletries, shower and brush after the slightest bit of snogging… the other part, quite simply put was already tired of the row that he was sure was going to happen…
Next morning, Sherlock was unusually silent…through tea, breakfast (his favourite… scrambled eggs made by John as a peace offering) and reading the paper…Finally; John had enough of the sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. His voice was mild. “You sure are quiet, today morning!”
“Why?” He flicked the pages of the newspaper exaggeratedly. “Do you wish to talk about something?”
“I thought, you would be obsessing over the subject of my secret Girlfriend. Frankly, I’m surprised…I was expecting the Spanish Inquisition…”
“We are flat-mates, John. If you wish to conceal the identity of your current girlfriend for whatever reason, you have every right.”
John winced internally. ‘Flat-mates’…he was taking this rather badly. And was that hurt in his voice? Be strong, Watson…he’s pressing your buttons… Remember Holly’s face as she ran out shrieking…or was it Bree? Dammit! In any case, he deserves it!
“You are right, Sherlock… that is indeed very mature and considerate of you.” (Oh God, now I’m talking like Mycroft!) “If you want to meet her, you can come out with us tonight.”
“I don’t need to. I already know who it is…”
“You do?” John groaned.
"Yes!” He took a dramatic pause… “It’s Dr. Molly Hooper!”
John had opened his mouth to start shouting in vehement denial, and just as abruptly clamped it shut.
“Don’t look at me like that… this is not a deduction per se…did not have enough data to work with. Had to rely on the process of elimination; after all there are hardly any women we both know! It’s definitely not one of your exes, as I wouldn’t care. It is not Sally Donovan, as she slept with Anderson, just day before yesterday, and you have better taste… It’s not my brother’s assistant, as she’s definitely a lesbian. Irene Adler is in America. It’s not that waitress down at the Chip Shop, as you would never permit yourself to get involved with a married woman, even if she helps you…how did you put it?...get off in your fantasies…”
John tried to suppress that he had more of a reaction to Irene’s name being tossed out so casually, than Sherlock did.
“…Then there was the way you were staring at Molly at the Christmas Party, only marginally less obvious than Lestrade, I’m afraid. She’s a doctor like you, and fortunately for her, you are more of a soldier, so your protective instincts kicked in to take care of the damsel in distress. One thing led to another and… here we are…” he folded the paper with a flourish. “Am I right?”
John shook his head in disbelief. “If you don’t care about my exes, why would you care if it was Molly? And did you miss the part, where you yourself deduced that Molly was in love with you.”
“I didn’t say, I cared”, Sherlock said very quickly. “In any case, the operative word is ‘was’. Over the last couple of weeks, I have found her attentions towards me… declining. She didn’t even fetch me coffee two days back, when I specifically asked for it…”
“And the reason why she’s giving you a cold shoulder, can’t possibly be that you are a right git, as opposed to- we are shagging…”
“There’s no need to be so angry. Honestly, I think you are a vast improvement over Jim from I.T.”
“Ah…I see! Soooo…in conclusion… The only reason I have my supposed girlfriend is due to the combined efforts of Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty.” He couldn’t help it that his voice had turned bitter.
“Well…when you put it that way…”
“Bye Sherlock!”
“John…”
“No…” The calm tone of his own voice surprised John. “You remember the subtext signal we talked about. You say one more word, and this time you will lose a tooth!”
It was when John had reached the bottom of the stairs that Sherlock yelled, “Was I right?”
He only heard the door slamming in reply…
10.00 a.m.
JOHN, I WILL TRY TO UNDERSTAND.
11.00 a.m.
I DIDN’T MEAN TO PRY.
12.00 p.m.
ALRIGHT I DID, BUT I WILL TRY AND REMEMBER HER NAME THIS TIME.
2.00 p.m.
THIS IS RIDICULOUS. HOW CAN YOU STILL BE ANGRY?
3.00 p.m.
I DIDN’T EVEN MEAN IT THE WAY YOU INTERPRETED.
5.00 p.m.
JOHN, I GOT THE MILK AND BEANS…
John was grinning as he left the clinic, while reading the last message. He loved making Sherlock squirm. So admittedly, he was distracted when two blocks from the clinic; he was ambushed by four rather huge men.
Oh, they are both going to be impossible! Was his last thought as he succumbed to unconsciousness…
(Guesses welcome!)
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