A Study In Shoelace: Johnlock (Soulmate AU)

Meet Grandma

John Watson awoke to the sudden restrictiveness of a rope being tightened across his chest. He blinked the fog out of his eyes and realized that he'd been dragged somewhere outside of the lab. Inhaling deeply, John groggily observed his surroundings.

Shiny leather car seat in front of him, cold glass window on his right, and Sherlock Holmes staring at him from his left. Right. This was obviously a cab! "What a phenomenal little deduction, and right after I fainted as well," John proudly thought to himself.

"Morning," Sherlock said in his sherlocky voice.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" demanded Watson. 

"I dragged you into a cab because I didn't feel like waiting for you to wake up."

"Oh, well. Alright, then. Thanks? I'm assuming you're the one who buckled this seatbelt so tightly, too."

"Yes."

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Watson was sill recovering.

"We're getting out here." The cab slowed to the curb of the quiet british road, and the two shuffled out. A quaint little door stood next to a sandwich bar, which John appreciated because he loved sandwiches. A scenario about eating a juicy reuben sandwich played in John's head. He snapped back to reality as Sherlock put a key into the lock of the black door labeled 221B.

"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive" John remarked.

Sherlock jiggled the key around in the lock. "The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, 's giving me a special deal. I helped her out a few years back when her husband was put on the Floridian death row. She's returning the favor."

"Oh, I didn't realize you had the power to influence who gets taken off of a foreign death row! What do you do for a living?" 

Sherlock just sort of amusedly gave a "hah" as he finally cracked open the door. John was a little concerned about that response, but whatever. 

Inside was an older woman, presumably Mrs. Hudson. She exuded the warmth and kindness of a nice old grandma. When she saw the two enter, she stopped, beamed, and opened her arms.

"Sherlock! Come here!" She affectionately demanded. Sherlock and Granny Hudson briefly embraced. "Is this your boyfriend or something, dear?"

"This is Dr. John Watson. The shoemate I told you about a while ago."

"Oh, of course, dear! Well, welcome in."

They both turned to look at Watson, who stood in the doorframe awkwardly examining his surroundings. He waved and nodded at Mrs. Hudson in friendly greeting even though he still wobbled a bit from his earlier fainting spell.

"Shall we go see the flat upstairs?" Sherlock suggested sherlockily, turning toward the stairs. The three trotted up, sort of. John and his war-battered body took a minute to ascend while he held onto Sherlock's pointy elbow for support. Mrs. Hudson smiled to herself, believing John to be in good hands. 

John observed how the landing they would soon live in was still in need of cleaning. "This could be nice! We can tidy up a bit, and-"

"I went ahead and moved in already.... oh." Sherlock suddenly realized how his lifestyle must appear to someone more normal such as John. 

"So all this stuff everywhere is yours?" John's eyes wandered to the mantlepiece. "That's a skull," john questioningly slash concernedly stated with a gesture toward the HUMAN SKULL that sherlock owned, for some reason."

"Ah, friend of mine. By 'friend' I mean..."

Mrs. Hudson, who was genuinely trying to tidy up Sherlock's various file folders that were strewn about the coffee table, asked the two men, "What do you think then, Dr. Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing a guest room for your visitors."

"Of course we'll be needing two."

Mrs. Hudson replied with a devious little smirk. This greatly disturbed John even though he was a publicly certified gay by now. At a loss for words, he swiveled his head to look at sherlock (literally his soulmate), but sherlock, in classic sherlock fashion, was either oblivious or... something... because he didn't acknowledge John's silent plea for help. 

Mrs Hudson went back to tidying up after sherlock, who was also tidying up after himself (because he was a good grandson to his landlady). Watson, a broken man, walked over to the armchair. "Your shoes'r still untied, Mr. Holmes"

"Eager, are we?" granny hudson said.

"No, he just looks stupid walking around with untied vintage designer shoes." Watson replied.

"Oh, I suppose you're right, dear. Y'know what else of his looks stupid? His website! Dearie me, have you seen it?"

"...no? I don't even know what he does for a living."

"Oh, you simply must see, Mr. Watson," Mrs. Hudson said, flipping open sherlock's laptop that he left on the messy coffee table. She typed for a second and then handed it to John. 

 There, on the screen, he saw vivid hell (https://sites.google.com/view/astudyinshoelace42069fanficwow/home) and almost cried a little. John Watson, Rapidly Deteriorating Inside, said, "sherlock, your website SUCKS. What is this?" Mrs Hudson giggled in the background after having retreated to the kitchen to tidy up some newspapers on the dining table. 

Sherlock looked at Watson, offended, and inhaled through his nose. "You wouldn't get it..." he began. He walked toward the tall, foggy rectangle windows. But sherlock didn't make it to the window because he tripped over his vintage designer shoelaces and smashed headfirst into the bookcase beside it. John was almost sorry for insulting his stupid website.