ladyvictorinox: fuckyeahsherlockfics: ...

fuckyeahsherlockfics:

wittyinthetardis:

“Hello again, Stormy!”

“I’ve told you a million times to stop calling me that.”

idea from here

Attention Followers: We are officially making this a drabble fest.

SOMEBODY WRITE THIS.

Pretty, pretty please? If anyone wants to write this but not post it, just submit it and we’ll post it as anon if you would like.

One paragraph, two sentences, whatever. Just contribute.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

There was that incessant knocking again. God didn’t normal people sleep at this hour? He glanced at the mantle where John had placed a clock in the hopes that Sherlock would be more aware of the time, eleven-eleven in the evening and all the consulting detective wished for was to be left alone with his experiment. It wasn’t a case, Lestrade never knocked, and his brother just invited himself in.

“MRS. HUDSON! MRS. HUDSON, THE DOOR!” Sherlock yelled again. She must have taken her soothers for the night then. Where was John? Oh, Surgery hours, right. Sherlock huffed has the knocking resumed again. He set the beaker down and stomped down the stairs, wrenching open the door.

“I’M BACK!” Cheered a slender man in an olive trench coat, a clashing bow-tie and his hair coiffed over in a flopped manner on the right side of his face. But Sherlock did not need to take in these details to know who the man with the frankly alarming smile was at his stoop. He didn’t need to take in any more details before his grit his teeth and promptly shut the door in this man’s face. “Oh come on Stormy! This is how you greet an old friend! It’s the Doctor!” Came the cheery cantor, muffled by the door. Sherlock promptly stalked back up to the kitchen to resume his experiments. However, peace was limited. “You rather liked Stormy, and now it’s so fitting, since you’re all broody and dark. More fitting than Sherlock Holmes. Which, I don’t like by. The. Way! Oh! You’ve redecorated, I don’t like that either!” Sherlock clenched his jaw and turned about.

“How did you get in here?! It’s rude to enter one’s home uninvited!” He snapped. Hurt flashed across The Doctor’s face for a brief moment before he resumed his smile.

“I didn’t B & E, if that’s what you’re implying, Stormy. Your partner invited me in. He just came back from work it seems, lovely fellow, John Watson, a doctor, I love a fellow doctor. Looks a bit like your Dad, don’t you think?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the insufferable man as he twirled about the flat, taking in things. John slipped into the kitchen apologetically glancing at Sherlock, while putting away the groceries. “Oh Hello again John, May I call you John or should I just call you Doctor Watson?” John turned about, freezing at being put in place.

“Eh, John’s fine.” He glanced to Sherlock. “How do you two know each other.”

“We don’t.” Sherlock said with an air of finality, which the Doctor promptly ignored.

”Oh please. Stormy and I go way back. I knew him when he was a baby.”

“Wot? ‘Scuse me?” John asked, mouth hanging ajar.

“Oh right, you probably think I’m pulling your leg, is that the phrase? Pulling your leg? Oh that’s an Americanism, right. Regardless.” The Doctor stepped into John’s personal space in a way that reminded him of Sherlock, but wasn’t staring him down in a way that did not remind him of Sherlock at all. “Right, I’m not human. I’m Time-Lord, Time is irrelevant for me, meaning I don’t age. It helps that I just saw you yesterday. ” He glanced at Sherlock. “Time and Space ship, I don’t really know how to explain it to you, you’ll just get confused.” Now that phrase sounded vaguely Sherlock.

“Oh Why are you here?!” Sherlock snapped finally, putting himself between the Doctor and John. The Doctor’s face fell, he fidgeted and turned, pacing the room in a circle before stopping next to the mantle and brushing a finger across the skull. He looked up, sadness in his eyes that resonated even within Sherlock.

“I need you to solve a murder.”

“Who’s murder?”

“Mine. April 22nd, 1969.”