A/N - hahaha writing your own story into an episode is so annoying hence why this took me so long but IT IS HERE. IT IS DONE. WILL PROBABLY EDIT AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE because no doubt there are mistakes despite me checking it fifty times 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️
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The thirteenth of March is what their calendars read, about a month after their case of The Missing Mother. Just another normal day in 221B. Well, normal until Sherlock returned to the flat from his morning errands.
John was sat in his chair, laptop open on his lap, typing up his next blog post, newspapers piled on top of the tables beside his chair like no one's business. Elizabeth was lounging on the sofa in Sherlock's dark purply-red gown with Sherlock's laptop resting on her lap. The thief honestly didn't know what she was searching for and had ended up travelling down one of those many Wikipedia wells of either true knowledge or faux facts - currently she was learning about the history of sowing.
The flat door opened suddenly, accompanied by two heavy steps and then a wooden thunk of something else on the floor.
Both thief and doctor looked up, both doing a double-take, faces mimicking the looks of cats with their ears flattened in speechless alarm by the sight they saw.
There Sherlock stood, bloody harpoon in hand, covered in crimson splatters himself, breathing heavily.
"Well, that was tedious."
John and Elizabeth shared a look of confusion between each other.
"You went on the Tube like that?!" John questioned.
"None of the cabs would take me."
Elizabeth looked back down at her laptop screen with a bemused smile - she wondered why none of the cabs would take a man who looked as though he had just returned from a murder spree. Utterly rude of them, of course, for having refused such a renowned detective such as his self, who was utterly unrecognisable behind that intense, serial killer look in his eye and was mildly threatening with a unique weapon such as a harpoon in hand.
* * * * * *
Sherlock anxiously paced the strip of floor in front of the couch, blue gown billowing like a smoky tail behind him, swishing every time he turned to walk the other way. He kept fiddling with the harpoon in hand which admittedly made both John and Elizabeth a little nervous themselves.
"Nothing?" The detective sounded desperate and changed his course to walk around the coffee table.
Elizabeth was sat cross-legged on the floor, besides John's chair as the two of them skimmed through the newspapers for something of interest to the detective.
"Military coup in Uganda?" John said.
"Hm..."
Both the doctor and thief could tell this was a hum of disinterest.
"Another photo of you with the, er..."
Sherlock groaned at the sight of his face on the front of the newspaper with that God forsaken hat. Why did they always like the hat? Why couldn't they take a normal picture of him?
"Everybody likes that hat, Sherlock." Elizabeth hummed, admiring the picture of him.
"I don't."
"I do." She smiled at him, "Suits you."
The detective rolled his eyes as the thief smirked playfully.
"Well, um, Cabinet reshuffle?" John suggested.
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It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes
FanfictionElizabeth Parrish is a thief but not just any thief - She is Moriarty's personal thief. She made a deal with a devil and she enjoyed it: the thrill, the challenge, the money. Every job he gave her left her on a high that she couldn't get enough of...
