My first work based on a 'justimagine'. Please, read the image !
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The client had just turned his back and walked out of the room, tears still wetting his eyes, his mind trying to comprehend what had just happened in that room. 221B Baker Street was like entering a forced therapy with the Hulk. He destroys everything in his path, and doesn't care about the damage.
Sherlock Holmes hadn't waited for the door to close to put on a big smile. The case... Oh this case... He could feel that he was really going to like this case ! He could hardly contain his euphoria, his mind in turmoil. He was already thinking of solutions, tricks, clues, details.
John Watson, on the other hand, hadn't even tried to open his mouth. He knew his roommate by heart by now. Instead, he just got up, to make two cups of tea. He doubted that the black-haired man would touch it, but winter was coming, and if they really had to go out, they deserved to warm up a bit before.
He rested his brown pants on his regular chair. The man in front of him had pulled his legs up, then put his hands and chin on them. To be honest, the doctor wasn't sure what he was supposed to be thinking about, he didn't feel like he had much information. But then again, maybe he had missed something. Maybe he had. He had done what all normal people do, and just listened to what the client had to say.
Repeated robberies in an upscale new suburb just outside London, with a guardian and a camera.
The culprit could only be one of the owners. And what better place to study the obsolescence of human thought than a gathering of pretentious new riche ?
Sherlock was already far away on his little cloud, while John waited patiently drinking his tea. For anyone else, this situation would have seemed unbearable. And it must be said that, at first, it was very difficult for the doctor to keep his calm and to remain patient. And even to not get offended when he was called - not so subtly - a moron all the time.
But there's nothing like the years to make a man wise. Well, John wasn't sure he had really become that wise. However, he had learned to take a step back, and take everything with humor. Often, it was easier to deal with the eccentricities of his roommate.
After an hour, Sherlock unfolded his large frame, stood up, and exclaimed with a big smile :
- Let's go, my dear Watson. The game is on !
The two companions took coats and scarves, while the doctor noted that indeed, the cup of tea had remained perfectly intact.
In the cab, John didn't say much more, letting his friend explain all the deductions he had already made, without even having been to the crime scene.
- We might have a problem though," Sherlock said in the middle of his monologue.
- Which one?" asked John wearily.
- Well, from what was described to us, it sounds like a small community, and they must not trust outsiders easily. From the accent of our client, I'd say they're middle-class Americans, who wanted a change of scenery. We won't get anywhere with our English manners.
- I suppose you've already thought of a plan B ?
- And even up to E !
Sherlock then put on a big smile, which made his cab companion shiver. He really didn't like that triumphant look on his face. This was definitely not a good idea. Whatever he had in mind, John could feel that he was going to regret it.
The rest of the way was in silence, but the blond could feel the stare piercing through him. He didn't know what his roommate had in mind, but he really didn't like it. At all. If he could, he would have wanted to throw himself out of the moving cab. He had one of his hunches that told him nothing was going to go his way. Why would it ? It's not like he was sitting next to the biggest sociopath the earth has ever borne.
As the cab was about to turn, Sherlock stopped it. The two men got out, John paid the fare, and they started walking.
- Are we far away ?
- No, just past that street.
They continued for some time in silence. Finally, they saw the place. It looked like a small fortified village. Quite frightening with all its perfectly identical houses, and the small, well-kept gardens.
A police car was still there.
- Do exactly as I do," the dark-haired man whispered in the other's ear.
John did not have time to answer, that his hand was imprisoned in that, much larger, of the brown hair.
As they arrived at the gates, they were immediately stopped by the guard.
- Hello gentlemen, can I help you ?
John saw with a blush the look the man wore on their entwined fingers. Since when did they have intertwined fingers anyway ?
- Hello Sir. We were looking for a place to buy for our brand new family.
So new, it didn't even exist two hundred meters ago... John thought. But he knew Sherlock well enough. So as soon as he felt a pressure on his fingers, he smiled and nodded.
- Oh, uh... All right. Ah, that's right, Mrs. B !
A young blonde woman passing by turned with a smile.
- Yes ?
- These two young men would like to visit a house... together.
The guard was so insistent on the last word that John cleared his throat, now completely uncomfortable. He tried to get his hand back, but to no avail.
- Oh.. Oooohh !
The woman's face lit up, as she took the hint. John could have found her charming, if everything didn't sound so fake about her. From her nails, to her way of speaking, tinted of a false grace, and a false politeness.
And so the blond was dragged through the whole neighborhood, guided by Sherlock's sure hand, which had not let go of him for a single second, but had not looked at him once either.
He told anyone who would listen that he had been attracted to him from the first time they met, but that 'this idiot' had not been able to see him, so he had to flirt with another woman, a lesbian to boot, to hope to make him open his eyes, but that even then it was in vain. So he had just decided, one day, to kiss him. And that's it.
John was completely amazed at how quickly he was able to come up with a story like this. Although it was obvious that he had been inspired by real events in their lives. Maybe he hadn't had time to think it all through ? Anyway... John remembered a phrase Sherlock often said. Any lie is easier to swallow if it's tinged with truth. Perhaps that was simply his purpose ? To make false feelings seem true, through what they had experienced together ?
However, a small doubt kept lingering in the doctor's mind. Each time, he had carefully observed Sherlock's face. He knew he was a good actor... But that good ? How could he fake love like that ? John frowned, suddenly completely lost.
But it was much easier for him to believe that his roommate was a much better actor than he had imagined, rather than thinking for a moment that there might be an ounce of truth in his feelings.
The day passed quickly enough. And it was at sunset that the two men finally left the neighborhood. Sherlock's face was closed, and it was completely impossible for his best friend to know what he was thinking.
He should be happy, they had solved the case in just a few hours. These people were such bad actors, that the detective had easily uncovered several affairs, children who were not with their biological father, as well as other such packages.
- Sherlock ?
The dark-haired man suddenly came out of his trance, and looked at the man who was still walking beside him.
- You can let go of my hand now, we don't have to pretend anymore.
In fact, he should have let go of him hours ago, but it was as if the detective stubbornly refused to do so. However, this time he opened his fingers, leaving the doctor's hand alone. John felt the cold wind between his fingers for the first time since the beginning of the day, and he suppressed a shiver.
Silence settled between the two men. Awkward on one side, thoughtful on the other.
- I didn't know you were such a good actor, Sherlock. I think they all still think we're together. On the other hand, I think the cops on the scene do, too, so we shouldn't let Gre-
The end of John's sentence died between the detective's lips. The taller man held the other by the cheeks, crushing his thin lips to his consorts. The doctor's mind was completely blank. No new information was reaching his brain.
The detective moved slightly away from him, smiling.
- The game is on, my dear Watson.
And just like that, he started walking down the street, probably looking for a cab. The doctor, on the other hand, was still on the same stretch of sidewalk. He gently touched his lips, now completely lost.
- Sher... Sherlock ! Wait, Sherlock ! Can I know what this means ? You can't just do this, and walk away !
The doctor chased his detective down the street, yelling at him. But the dark-haired man knew.
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And that's it for this first chapter inspired by a 'just imagine'. I hope you enjoyed it. See you soon for more adventures!
Did this just give me an idea for a novel: yes absolutely x)