14A gift-fic for the ever lovely ImSiriuslyLupin4you.
"Welcome ladies." Martha Hudson said, sitting down.
Agatha Turner leaned back, appraising her friend through her horn-rimmed glasses the way only she (and Dumbledore) knew how. Christina Grint and Madeline Abernathy sat patiently, still bundled up for the rain even though the fire roared on pleasantly. "Martha." Agatha said. "How are those boys of yours doing?"
"They're just fine, Aggie, dear."
"I've been following your John's blog." Madeline said through her scarf. "Wonderous stuff!"
Mrs. Hudson puffed herself up. Her tenants were a source of pride to her. "Isn't it though?" She said indulgently. "My Sherlock has another case already!"
"Truly?" Madeline gasped. She always was so easily impressed. "Do you think it'll be dangerous?" She shivered and smiled. "Ohh, it gave me the chills!"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist quite yet, Maddie." Agatha said quietly. "Martha, why did you call us here today? The next meeting isn't until the 6th."
"I called you all here because I would like your help getting my very own..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Married ones!"
"Your kicking out Sherlock and John?" Christina asked, aghast. "Martha, how could you? They're such nice boys!"
"Hush, Christina!" Martha scolded. "I'm not kicking my boys out! I meant-"
"She means she wants us to help them realize their feelings for each other." Agatha cut in.
"Feelings?" Christina looked scandilized. "John and Sherlock have feelings for each other?" She looked ready to cry. "But...but...but Sherlock loves Lestrade!"
"Hush, Christina!" They all chorused.
"I don't know, Martha." Agatha said quietly, twisting a lock of steel gray hair around her finger. "Sherlock doesn't seem to be the type to give into his feelings, if he has any."
"Of course he has feelings! Don't say such horrid things! We didn't think your Sebastian and Jimmy* would get along so well but they did!"
Madeline popped open her laptop, typing in something quickly. "What will we call it?" She asked quietly. Her eyes widened. "Oh my."
"What is it?" Martha leaned over to glance at her screen. Then she grinned. "Well, well, well! It looks like I'm not the first to think of it after all! Scroll down."
Johnlock;, the cover page of the forum read, because you can't accurately deduce true love.
Christina frowned. "I don't like it, but after what you did for me and mine, I'll help."
"Oh that's right!" Madeline said, scrolling through the fanfictions. "How are Arthur and Alfred?"
"They're just fine, thank you!"
"When's the wedding, exactly?"
"Next May."
"Ooh, a spring wedding. That's lovely." They all sigh happily.
"And you, Agatha?"
She made a disgruntled face. "Search me!" She threw her hands in the air dramatically. "I don't think Sebastian's ever going to propose! It's a shame really, there's nothing I love more than a good wedding." They all agreed it was a darn shame.
"Alright then, ladies!" Martha finally snapped, clapping her hands together sharply. "How are we going to set about doing this?"
They grin evilly as they begin to map out their plan.
Step 1 of Operation Johnlock;
Jealousy;
Martha knew right away her Sherlock would rather swallow razors than admit he had emotions. So they'd need to work from John's angle instead. "Thank you so much for doing this, Stella, dear." She said sincerly.
"It's no problem, Mrs. Hudson!" Ms. Abernathy's granddaughter grinned. "Always glad to oblige!"
"Now, you remember your lines?"
"Yes ma'am!"
"She's such a good girl!"
"Isn't she?" Madeline smiled proudly. She kissed Stella's hand. "Raised her all by myself."
"Shh! Here they come!" Mrs. Hudson immediately busies herself with her teacup. John comes in through the door as scheduled, not leaning on his cane so much as strutting with it. "Hello!" She said cheerfully, standing up. He blinked in surprise and then smiled.
"Mrs. Hudson!" He hugged her gently and then turned to the two women still sitting. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are."
"I'm Stella Abernathy and this is my grandmother."
"Just call me Madeline, darling, please."
"Alright then. Is there something we can help you with today?"
"Well, don't tell him but-" Mrs. Hudson moves over so there's room for John on the couch. "since you've been seeing that nice Mary girl, I thought that maybe Sherlock would like a companion as well."
John choked on his tea, leaning over his knees, gasping as Stella blushed and looked off into the distance pensively. "I've just been so lonely." She sighed unhappily. She really was a terrific actress, Mrs. Hudson thought, as a solitary tear ran down her cheek.
"Oh...I'm sorry to hear that." John mumbled, looking anywhere but directly at her. She could have cackled with glee.
Yes! Yes! Be jealous! She is about to take the man you love away from you!
Oh...oh dear.
Maybe she should stop taking her herbal soothers during the day.
...No, it's fine, it's fine.
Yes! Yes!
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
"Do you know when he'll be back?" She asked her tenant, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Um...No, no I don't. It could be a very long time. You know how he gets." He said uneasily.
"Oh...right. I'm sorry, dearie." She apoligized to Stella. "I can call you when he gets back."
"Yes, that'll do just fine." The young woman dabbed at her eyes sadly. "Thank you, Auntie Martha. Don't you worry about me, my heart can stagger on until then."
She was very good.
As the door closed, John ran a hand through his hair. "Mrs. Hudson, are you sure it's wise to leave her around Sherlock. She seems so..."
"Delicate? Lovely? The epitome of womanhood?"
"No!" He exclaimed, scandilized. "I, er, well-"
"What did happen to that nice Mary woman? You never bring her around anymore!" She dropped the cups gently next to a jar that may or may not have contained a human heart.
"We broke up a long time ago, Mrs. Hudson."
Her head shot up and her eyes sparkled. "Well, Mrs. Turner, you know, the one with the married ones, has the loviest great-niece I have ever seen. She has thick blonde hair and her breasts go out to here!" She placed her hands a good distance from her own modest bosom as John flushed a lovely shade of puce and pushed her out the door.
"Good day, Mrs. Hudson!"
She didn't stop laughing until Jeremy Kyle came on.
Step 2;
Reasoning;
Sherlock;
"Sherlock, you're in love with John."
"No, I'm not."
"Alright then dearie, I'll just put these dishes here. Just remember, I'm your not your housekeeper~"
John;
"John, you're in love with Sherlock."
"What? No! Whaaaat? Noooo..."
She patted his hand gently. "You know, denial isn't just a river in africa*."
"Mrs. Hudson, I-" She hugged him to her tightly.
"It's alright, I understand that this is a very difficult time for you and that you need a little time to get used to the idea, but I'm positive you'll see the light eventually." Martha stood, leaving John with a wide-eyed, misty stare. "Close your mouth, dearie. You'll catch flies."
"Oh! Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock breezed in, giving her a quick peck to the cheek as he undid his scarf. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing. I-I, I just came to check up on my favorite tenants." He smiled at her boyishly and her heart skipped a beat.
How lovely her Sherlock looked when he smiled!
Step 3
Mycroft.
Mycroft;
He had given her his number the hour after Sherlock moved in, with strict instructions to call if Sherlock did something that should warrant his interest.
Surely the future of his brother's happiness counted!
Mrs. Hudson popped the numbers quickly and held the phone to her ear, waiting with baited breath. "Hello?"
"Oh, Mycroft! It's Martha Hudson, I just called to-"
He chuckled lowly, his voice melting over her ear. She shuddered. Sherlock's voice, which mostly resembled a jaguar hiding in a cello, was pleasant and soothing to hear. His voice was sharp and clean, like needles dipped in mouthwash, and made her feel unimportant and frightend. "Mrs. Hudson, while I agree wholeheartedly with what you're doing and support you completely, I'm afraid I can be of no help to you." He hung up and she slammed down the phone, making the sign of the cross over her rapidly beating heart before quickly tearing the number in two.
Never, ever again!
"You didn't have to be so rude." Lestrade chastised him gently. Mycroft shrugged and rested his chin on his palm.
"Didn't I?"
"No." He turned, fascinated as a child at the zoo, watching Sherlock prowl around the flat. He held his skull in his hands, talking loudly and motioning dramatically towards his sullen flatmate. It seemed John had not moved from his seat on the couch since Mrs. Hudson had left, his fingers flexing, white knuckled, over his thin cane. "He seems upset." Lestrade commented.
"Indeed."
"Do you think...maybe we should put a stop to it?"
"Why?"
"Good point." They sat back to watch the show.
Step 4.
Angelo steps in.
"They're here! They're here!" The man snapped to his waiter. "Go! Go! Get ready!"
David saluted, heels clicking together. "Yessir!"
Sherlock sat down, coated from head to toe in thick, black mud. Angelo was quite used this and had no problem hugging the man tightly. Sherlock smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the other clinging to the menu. "Sherlock! my friend!" He boomed, shaking the rafters. His regulars didn't even bat an eyelash. "You're so thin! Don't worry, a good meal will fix that quick enough!"
"Thank you, Angelo, I'll have-"
"Don't tell me what you'll have, I know what you'll have! Stupid man, don't you think I have your favorites memorized? And you there, kitten-man*! What wil you have?"
John smiled sheepishly. "I'll have the-"
"Chicken alfredo! Good choice! I'll be back!"
John looked stunned. "How did he...?"
"He didn't." Sherlock answered, going through his messages. "He always does this. Angelo is very good at telling what people want."
"Well at least he didn't bring out the candles again."
"Hmm."
They fell into a comfortable silence...which was then quickly broken. "Hi, Mr. Holmes!" A girl about fourteen sang, making a heart with her fingers. A woman who might have been her older sister hit her in the back of the head.
"Freak. I'm gonna go get us a table."
"Bugger off, Sadie! Can't you see I'm busy?" She pulled out a harmonica. She brought it to her lips and blew a cheerful, happy tune. It took John a nanosecond to recognize it.
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...
She shoved it back in her pocket. "Happy birthday, Mr. Holmes!" She stole a quick kiss from his cheek before scampering off.
"It's your birthday?" John demanded, appalled that he had missed it.
"No."
"But she-"
"All the children in the homeless network have their quirks. Hers is trying to guess my birthday. She plays that for me whenever we meet."
He grinned at Sherlock. "And about how often do you two meet?"
"Six or seven times a month."
"And has she ever been right?"
"No, but she's gotten very close."
Angelo leaned over the kitchen counter.
"Was that part of the plan?" David asked around a moutful of spaghetti.
"No. But I'll take it. Send out a few bowls of free soup to their table. Then commence with the plan."
"Alrighty. Ruby, two bowls of potato soup to the table with the girl in the plaid shirt!"
"On it boss!"
"Martin, where's Sherlock's order!"
"Done!" The man slammed the two plates down. "You can't rush perfection!"
David took the plates and bounded out the kitchen. "Here you go, Mr. Holmes! Angel hair pasta, extra mushrooms, and for the man in the sweater, chicken alfredo." He set them down carefully. "On the house of course."
Sherlock took a bite and sighed, eyes crinkling with bliss. "It's very good, but not Angelo's work. Did he finally take my advice and hire someone to help around the kitchen?"
"Martin's the name, sir! Fresh meat, him and Ruby. They're our new recruits. Angelo won't admit it but he can't get around as he used to be able to."
"I -"
"Aww, free food! Awesome! Thanks, Angelo!" An overjoyed voice behind them crowed. John snickered into his napkin at the girls' matching whoops of joy.
"So, Mr. Holmes, I know you're busy with all this deducing and such, but do, you think maybe you could find the time to come out to the pictures with me this Saturday?"
John choked on his food, eyes bulging from their sockets. Sherlock cast a worried glance at him, scooting back his chair to stand before being waved off. "Ah, yes, while I'm flattered, I must stress that I consider myself married to my work." He paused to take a sip of something cold and alcoholic. "Not to mention, that I am a good 16 years older than you."
"Oh. Oh, I see." David walked off, with his head hung low.
John stared at his flatmate, cheeks flushed "What is wrong with people lately?" He demanded, voice shrill nd jealous. "First that woman in our flat, then that little girl and then him!" He motioned wildly to the downcast waiter as he disappeared into the kitchen. "It seems like everyone's flirting with you lately."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What woman?"
"The...woman...in...what?
"What?"
"What?"
"You said 'the woman', what woman?"
The good doctor scowled. "Why don't you just deduce it, eh, Sherlock?"
"John! Honestly!" He pinched his nose in frustration before standing. "You're acting like a child! I didn't know you could be this stupid! I'm going back to the flat. Goodbye."
"Sherlock! Wait!" John slapped a five pound note on the table before taking off after him.
"Well," David said awkwardly, having watched the entire seen from the kitchen. "That could have gone better."
INTERMISSION;
"It isn't working." Madeline moaned, rubbing her temples tiredly. "It just isn't working! We've never had to go past step two before."
"Maybe they're just too stubborn." Agatha agreed. "We should just stop and cut our losses here."
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Hudson snapped. She felt like stamping her foot. She understood it was hard work but she vowed she would not, repeat NOT, stop until she got her very own Married Ones! "It's hard, I know, but when have we ever quit? Did we quit when Arthur started to date that awful man and almost got engaged? Did we stop when Jimmy almost moved out? No! And why's that?" She held out her glitter coated business card. "Because we are the League of Extraordinary Landladies for the Promotion and Pairing of People who will Eventually Become Married Ones! We never give up!"
They brightened at her little speech, pulling out their own cards, which when flipped over and arranged correctly, formed a happy little kitten on a unicorn flying over a rainbow. "Now all we need to do is create a step four." Agatha said, musing to herself.
"I have an idea!" Christina said finally. "It's fool-proof!"
"What is it?" They chorused.
"We poison Sherlock!"
Martha's mouth dropped open. "What?"
"No, no, it's perfect! In the movies, whenever someone's in love with someone, a near death experience always brings them together!"
"You're mad!"
"Absolutely not!"
"We aren't going to poison my boys!"
Madeline sniffed haughtily. "Then...how about minor bodily harm?"
"I suppose as long as it's minor." Mrs. Hudson said after a moment.
"Wonderful! Leave it all to me!"
Step 5
Minor-minor, Madeline, minor!-bodily harm
It was actually quite scientific, if she did say so herself. Mrs. Hudson informed them of how Sherlock tended to bound up and down the stairs. She measured his leg length and how many steps he could skip without falling flat on his face and buttered them accordingly. Then, they waited. It took a good three hours, but eventually, Sherlock ran down the stairs. He got caught on the last step, legs folding beneath him like a newborn foal's, tumbling head first down the sixteen remaining stairs. He swore heavily as they crowded around him, clutching his wrist.
"Sherlock, dear, we need to get you to a hospital straight away!" Mrs. Grint cried, clinging to his good hand.
"No hospital." He moaned. "It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine."
"Well at least let me call Dr. Watson!" Mrs. Hudson said firmly. Sherlock paused, staring up at the ceiling and taking deep, soothing breaths.
"Alright."
She used Sherlock's phone to call him, thinking he might answer quicker. She was right. He answered on the second ring. "What is it, Sherlock?"
"Sherlock's taken a tumble down the stairs and refuses to be taken to a hospital."
"What?"
She winced. "Sherlock-"
"No, no, don't repeat it! The stupid git! I'll be there as soon as I can!"
Apparently "as-soon-as-I-can' stood for "pretty-bloody-fast." They had barely settled Sherlock down on the first step with Jaffa Cakes and hot tea before John burst through the front door. He quickly dropped to his knees and examined the swollen wrist. John sighed in relief as he gently probed around. "Sprained, not broken."
"Thank goodness!" Martha sighed.
"Is he going to be alright?" Madeline cut in.
"I'm right here you know. I could have told you I was fine."
"Yeah, he'll be alright. Come on then, I have everything we need upstairs." He gave Sherlock a quick kiss on the lips before they hobbled upstairs, leaving the landladies stunned.
"Did...did I just indirectly shove my favorite tenant down a flight of stairs for nothing?" Mrs. Hudson wondered, horrified.
Conclusion?
"Think they got the hint?" John laughed, bandaging his partner's wrist.
Sherlock chuckled. "I think they did."
"I still can't believe they hadn't caught on until now."
The taller man shrugged, flexing his fingers as much as the makeshift wrappings would allow. "People are dense, John, I keep telling you that."
It was John's turn to laugh as he tugged Sherlock closer, hands firmly grasping his scarf. "Shut up and kiss me."
He smiled and leaned forward to comply. "With pleasure."
AN;
*; I am highly implying that Moriarty and Sebastian are Mrs. Turner's married ones. Why? I dunno. But I bet there's a fanfic for that. Google it.
*;Well, technically, she's not wrong.
*; Urbandictionary Martin Freeman; he's made out of kittens.
Note, this was almost physically painful for me, not mention fairly difficult. Mostly because although it is 100% canon, I do not ship BBC Johnlock. I know why people do, and I understand that some people love it, I myself have read some stories that are so amazing that just happen to have Johnlock in them that they go on in my faves but I do not ship it. And I don't think I ever will. It's either Shwatsonlock or Leslock. So yes. That's why it may suck in some parts. I dunno, I'm quite proud of it. *strokes fic*
Review now, my lovelies, review.