vomit_bunny: (Porn)
[personal profile] vomit_bunny
Title: Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast
Rating: PG-13
Character/pairing(s):John + Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, unexpected clients
Summary: John’s been living with Sherlock for months; perhaps he should be used to this.
Disclaimer: not mine
Spoilers:  none
Warnings: minor violence and language
Author's Notes: anyone who can identify which ACD story I ripped off inspired this wins my respect and admiration an actual prize!


John, I need you.


“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

“Wha-ghalph...” John sort of says, caught between an exclamation and a yawn.

Sherlock steps back from the bed. “That’s not a real word,” he points out. “I tried texting you.”

“Huh?” John asks, wiping a hand across his eyes and staring blearily at Sherlock.

“I really have to insist that you use proper words if this conversation is going to work, John,” Sherlock replies, his gaze drifting around the room as he speaks.

“What do you want?” John says at last.

“I need you to do something for me”

John stares for a moment. “What time is it?” he asks trying to peer past Sherlock and get a look at his alarm clock.

“It’s not important.”

“It’s important to me,” John counters.

“Six twenty.”

“Oh god,” John groans, flopping back down onto the bed. “What are you doing up?”

“I never went to sleep.”

“Good for you,” he replies, dragging a pillow over his head. “Now go away.”

“There’s a woman downstairs,” Sherlock continues, ignoring John’s objections. “I need you to talk to her.”

John drops the pillow and stares at Sherlock. “What? Why?”

“She says someone murdered her sister.”

John pauses. “That sounds more like your sort of thing.”

“She’s crying.”


“She should go to the police,” Sherlock concludes.

“You think the police could help,” John asks, resigning himself to the conversation.

“Of course not. She wouldn’t be bothering me though.”

John stares at him incredulously for a moment. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You weren’t doing anything.”

“I was sleeping!”

“But you’re not now,” Sherlock points out.

John pushes himself up and rubs the heel of his hand against his eye. “Why did you agree to see her?” he asks tiredly.

“I didn’t, Mrs Hudson let her in,” Sherlock explains. “Now she won’t leave and I have to deal with her.”

John sighs. “And you want me to do it instead.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Sherlock replies confidently, handing John his dressing gown.

“I never said I’d do it.”


“Mrs Jones, this is my friend John.”

“Hello,” John says more politely than he feels, reaching forward to shake the hand of their early morning visitor. “John Watson.”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, understanding flashing across her face as she glances between the two men. “I didn’t realise.”

“What? No, no,” John begins, standing up impossibly straighter and adjusting the belt on his dressing gown. “Um, how can we help you?”

Sherlock installs himself on the sofa as John is talking. Apparently ignoring them both as he stretches out on the cushions and stares up at the ceiling.

Mrs Jones sniffs slightly. “It’s about my sister, she died a few months ago.” She dabs at her eye and John shifts uncomfortably. “She was bitten by a snake.”

“A snake?”

“She used to keep them,” Mrs Jones explains, her voice almost bitter as she continues, "something she had in common with my husband.”

“So it was her own snake?”

She wrings her hands together and nods. “She was visiting, staying in our guest room. I’d just got home from the night shift and I was going to bed when I heard this clanging noise from her room and then the screams. It was so terrible! One of her venomous snakes got out, you see. We had to break the door down in the end.”

“Her room was locked?”

“Yes.” She sniffed. “They said it was an accident.”


“The police,” Mrs Jones explains. “Only now I’m not so sure.”

“Why?" John asks, realising he might not be awake enough to do the interview justice.

“I  had an argument with my husband and I moved into the spare room. He’s just acting so strangely,” she explains hurriedly, quickly looking over at Sherlock as he got his phone out.

“Are you alright, Mrs Jones?”

“I’m scared, I think he’s following me.”

“He followed you here?”

“What? No, no I don’t think so,” she says hurriedly, glancing at her watch.

John’s dressing gown pocket bleeps. He smiles, strained with embarrassment, at Mrs Jones as he takes his phone out of his pocket; the phone he distinctly remembers leaving on his bedside table.

Ask if her husband knows about her affair.

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s, uh, just some idiot.” John scowls at Sherlock for a second before turning to Mrs Jones. “Sorry about that,” he continues, but before he can finish his phone has gone off again.


John pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Mrs Jones.” He tries to force a smile. “I’m sorry but I have to ask if your husband knows that you’re having an affair.”

“I would never!” She starts shrilly, slapping John soundly across the face. “How dare you?”

“I'm sorry,” John says quickly, stepping backwards.

Suddenly all the anger seems to leave her. “No, no, I’m sorry,” she gushes.

“It’s alright, honestly,” John insists, trying to fend off her apologies.


“Thank you, Mrs Jones,” Sherlock says suddenly, leaping up from the sofa and ushering the young lady to the door which he swings open dramatically. “I trust you can find your way out,” he adds, shutting it in her face.



“What was all that about?”

“She was lying.”

“About her sister?”

“About being followed.”

“She’s not being followed?”

“Of course she’s being followed. Try to keep up, John.”

“Followed here you mean, how can you know that?”

“You saw the state she was in: flushed, excitable-”

“She was upset, Sherlock,” John counters.

“Possibly, but that doesn’t account for her laces.”

“Her laces?”

“Of her right shoe specifically,” he clarifies. “They were wet. They must have come undone at some point; you could see were they’d slapped against the back of her trousers. It leaves a very distinctive pattern, especially when running. It hasn’t rained in London for over a week but it rained in Woking last night.”

“Hold up. Woking?”

“Her train ticket, she kept fiddling with it.”

“You saw her train ticket? That’s it?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replies unrepentantly.

“Okay, so she ran for the train?”

“I checked the time tables,” Sherlock says, holding his phone up at John. “Taking into account travel time from Waterloo she must have left Woking on the 5:29. Why run for the 5:29?”

“When there’s a 5:33.” John grins. “Brilliant.”

“Now we wait.”


“For whoever's on the 5:33, it’s a slower train, we have a few minutes.”

“Mmmh, you didn’t actually need me for any of that, did you?

Sherlock shrugs. “You’re better with people than I am.” He pauses and looks at the red mark blossoming on John’s cheek. “Well, usually.”

“How did you know she was having an affair, anyway?”

“She wasn’t,” Sherlock admits. “I just wanted to see how she’d react.”

John slumps “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things.”

“You don’t?” Sherlock asks, fixing John with a puzzled look.

John opens his mouth to ask what he means when Mrs Hudson pops her head around the door.

“Were you expecting anyone else, Sherlock?” she asks. “Only he’s quite insistent, dear.”


“That’ll be Mr Jones, no doubt. Excellent!”

“It would probably be safer if you waited outside,” John says to Mrs Hudson, as Sherlock jiggles excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“Of course.” She nods and steps out of the door as their visitor barrels up the stairs. “Are you alright, dear?” she asks, pausing on the threshold and leaning in conspiratorially. “Only you look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” John insists hurriedly as Mr Jones reaches the landing.

He is a big, obviously angry, man who easily fills the doorway as he steps into room. Sherlock slumps slightly.

“You Holmes?” he demands as he advances menacingly towards John.

“God no.”

He turns to Sherlock, tensing his fists as he speaks. “Where is she, then? Where’s my wife?”

“I really have no idea, Mr Jones.”

“You’re lying! Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me!”

“This is going nowhere," Sherlock sighs. "Let me ask you a question instead. How long were you sleeping with her sister?”

Mr Jones freezes and flushes bright red. “You mouthy little prick!”


”So was he really sleeping with his sister in law?” John asks, stepping from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas in his hand.

“I’m afraid so, it was rather obvious really.”

“Here,“ John says as he presses the improvised ice pack to Sherlock’s eye. “It’s all we had in the freezer.”


“I’m not sure I believe you, perhaps you just want to see what would happen if you accused an already violent man of adultery?” John asks, perhaps more amused than he should be. “Or didn’t you think about ducking?”

“I ducked,” Sherlock answers easily, leaning back against the sofa and grinning at John. “I just didn’t count on him leading with his left.”

“So, are you taking the case? A locked room mystery.”

“Oh, that? I already know what happened,” Sherlock replies distractedly. “She killed her sister, tried to frame her husband. Do you want breakfast? There’s a rather good all night bakery I know.”

“No, I think you’re going to have to explain this one to me first.”

“Think about it, John. She thinks her husband murdered he sister, but she doesn’t leave him, doesn’t go to the police? She goes online and visits the first detective she finds. She wanted someone to manipulate, too bad she came to me!” Sherlock smiles triumphantly at John, though the effect is a little spoiled by the thawing bag of peas.

“Oh my," Mrs Hudson call from the doorway. "You two have been through the wars, haven’t you. Here, let me pop the kettle on.”

“Thank you Mrs Hudson.”

“Just this once, mind.”

“Really Mrs Hudson, we’re in the middle of something.”

“Ignore him, he’s just showing off.”

“Oh, he does like to try and impress you, doctor.”

“Mrs Hudson!”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs Hudson calls cheerily from the kitchen. “We’re listening.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes slightly but continues anyway. “She must have told her husband where she was going, or left some suitably obvious clues. How else could he know where she was going after she got on the train. She wanted him here! Wanted us to be sympathetic. She lied about being followed, tried to make her husband seem like an intelligent, resourceful threat rather than a bumbling fool. I’m afraid a few seconds in the same room as Mr Jones put pay to that idea. But she gave herself away before he arrived: she wasn’t scared of him, that was contempt in her voice. The only person she was scared of was me, afraid I’d see through her plan, and rightly so.” Sherlock sighs. “I really don’t know why people think they can lie to me,” he adds, looking closely at John.

“Mmmh, thank you Mrs Hudson” John say as he accepts a steaming cup of tea. “Go on.”

“She probably used her medical knowledge to kill her sister. She’s a nurse,” Sherlock explains at John’s raised eyebrow. “The abortive move to her chest every time she checked the time, no doubt used to wearing fob watch on her uniform. Faked the bite marks with a syringe, would be my guess, hoping to throw suspicion on her husband.”

“And the locked door?”

“Simply put the lock on a latch so it locked when she closed the door, I can’t be sure without looking at the door though, but locked room mysteries are almost always a disappointment. A murder disguised as a murder disguised as an accident,” Sherlock explains. “Boring but a bit too subtle for the police, I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Johns says slowly, “perhaps you should let them know, though.”

“One step ahead, John.” Sherlock smiles smugly and waves his mobile. “Lestrade has already been informed, I’m sure it will brighten his day no end.”

“I’m sure.”

“So, breakfast?”

The End

Feedback makes me happy.
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.


vomit_bunny: (Default)

August 2010

1 2345 6 7
8 910111213 14
222324252627 28

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 10:31 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios