221c - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Sherlock

I sat on my chair, watching telly. "No, no, no!" I shouted. "No, you've got it all wrong! There's no way that he could've done it! He was in Florida! His alibi isn't false!"

Allison popped her head in through the front doorway. "What the bloody hell are you yammering about!?" she exclaimed.

"Stupid court case telly show."

"Why, and I mean why do you watch that crap?"

I shrugged. "Just do. Wanna watch?"

"Sure."

She walked over to my chair, and sat on the armrest. "Can we watch something different?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno, let's see what's on." She grabbed the remote and began channel surfing. "Ooh! Let's watch Doctor Who!"

"Seen every episode."

"I didn't know you were a Whovian!"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, how 'bout the Graham Norton Show?"

"Eh."

"Fine, okay then, let's just watch the news."

"No."

"Stop being so picky!"

We finally settled on a channel that was playing movies. She got up and plopped down on the sofa, and patted the space beside her.

"C'mon."

"Okay." I got up and sat down. "So, Indiana Jones?"

"Yep." she popped the p.

Three hours later, we were asleep on the sofa. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and my head was back, against the back of the sofa, when I awoke with a jolt.

The telly was still blaring. I turned it off. Ally hadn't woken up. I prodded her, trying to get her to wake up.

"Shaniminoff." she mumbled. Whatever the bloody hell that meant. I stroked her hair once, lightly. I looked closer. I didn't try to make deductions when she was awake, because it usually was deemed rude. But now that she was asleep, I could make deductions without consequence.

I studied her. Right handed. Athletic, but not a runner. She snowboards goofy foot. Broke a finger at one point. Has a tea addiction. Has an irrational fear of spiders. Likes science. Loves her family, but would rather they be smarter. Likes Sherlock.

That last one kind of startled me. I could see it in the way she held onto me in her sleep, but I couldn't tell how far her affection went, not quite. Was it just friendship? Or...

I shook my head, as if to clear my mind of such dangerous thoughts. Needless to say, she was asleep on me, and needed to be asleep somewhere else. I pried her off of me, and scooped her up into my arms. She wasn't very heavy, but I grunted a little under the deadness of her sleepy weight.

I staggered down the stairs to 221c, Allison in my arms. She gave a cute sort of snort in her sleep, and I was afraid for a second that she would wake up.

I flung open her door, and walked with difficulty down her hallway and into her bedroom. I set her down in her unmade bed, and pulled the covers up and over her. I then slipped out of the room and went back to 221b, where I fell asleep in my own bed.

I woke up at the crack of dawn, and groaned. I did not want to be awake, but my body was refusing to go back to sleep. It was the fourteenth of December, a Tuesday. The dinner party for Scotland Yard that Lestrade had invited me to was next weekend. I smiled into my pillow at the thought of it, because he didn't actually think I was going to go. I loved proving people wrong.

I hadn't originally planned to go. I wasn't thinking then that I would. But then, something came over me, and I asked Ally to go with me on impulse. I almost never did anything on impulse.

I let out a massive sigh, and dragged my weary, protesting body out of bed. I slipped into the loo to shave and brush my teeth. My dark brown, almost black curls were all over the place. One stuck straight up, like a curly-queue telly antenna. I grabbed it and yanked it down, but all it did was pop back up again.

I ruffled my hands through my hair like I often did, but the rebellious curl would not lay flat. Oh well. I shaved and brushed my teeth quickly. I got dressed into my usual suit, and grabbed my coat and scarf, swirling them on as I headed out.

I needed milk. John always refused to buy me milk. He said I could do that on my own. I disliked doing it on my own, but I disliked drinking plain tea more. Ally always bought me milk. Maybe from now on I should have her do all my shopping.

My thoughts rambled as I hailed a cab and rode to the nearest grocery store. I made my purchase, which surprised the cashier. It's not often you have business at seven in the morning, from a fully dressed man, when you yourself had just barely rolled out of bed.

I was ruder to the cashier than I cared to admit. Carrying the milk, I once again stood at the kerb and hailed a cab. Back to Baker Street.