Clique of 221B

Chapter 8: A Little Joke

Rosie is now a few months old. Sherlock has her sat down in John's chair. You're sat across from her in Sherlock's chair.
"As ever, Watson, you see but do not observe." Sherlock turns to the chair. "To you, the world remains an impenetrable mystery whereas, to me, it is an open book. Hard logic versus romantic whimsy. That is your choice. You fail to connect actions to their consequences. Now, for the last time-" He picks up Rosie's rattle and holds it up to her. "-if you want to keep the rattle, do not throw the rattle?" He hands her the rattle which she immediately throws at his face. You laugh at the adorable smile she gives him. You look over to Mary who is lying on the sofa fast asleep with one foot up on John's lap as he sits at the other end with his hand on her leg, also asleep. I guess little Rosie's keeping them up all night.

The next case you get is from Lestrade. John walks in 19 minutes after Sherlock texted him. Sherlock is sat in his chair and you're sat on the arm. Lestrade is stood at the door.
"Hey." Lestrade says to John, you smile at him.
"Afternoon. He says you've got a good one, Greg." John says.
"Oh yeah. It was David Welsborough's fiftieth birthday." Lestrade begins to explain. Sherlock leans back in his seat, his fingers under his chin in prayer formation. Detective mode activated. "A week later-"
"Yeah?" John asks.
"-something really weird happens." Sherlock smiles at this. "Drunk driver – he's totally smashed, the cops are chasing him and he turns into the drive of the Welsborough house to try and get away. Unfortunately..." He continues to explain how the car crashed into the Welsborough's son's car. "The drunk guy survived, they managed to pull him out, but when they put the fire out and examined the parked car-" He then tells you about the body found in the car.
"Whose body?"
"Charlie Welsborough, the son."
"What?"
"The son who was in Tibet. DNA all checks out. The night of the party, the car's empty, then a week later the dead boy's found at the wheel." Sherlock begins to chuckle. Weirdo. "Yeah, I thought it'd tickle you."
"Have you got a lab report?" John asks him. Greg reaches for his briefcase at his side, puts it on his lap and takes out some folders.
"Yeah, Charlie Welsborough's the son of a Cabinet minister-" John gives a silent 'oh' and you nod in understanding. "-so I'm under a lot of pressure to get results."
"Who cares about that? Tell me about the seats," Sherlock says.
"The seats?"
"Yes. The car seats." Lestrade holds out a piece of paper to John who takes it. Sherlock sits up and holds his hand out, Greg gives him a folder. Sherlock opens it and looks at the contents. You peer over his shoulder. "Made of vinyl. Two different types of vinyl present. Was it his own car?"
"Yeah. Not flash – he was a student." Lestrade answers.
"Well, that's suggestive."
"Why?"
"Vinyl's cheaper than leather."
"Er, yeah, right."
"There's something else." John tells you.
"Yes?" Sherlock says. John looks down at the sheet in his hand.
"According to this, Charlie Welsborough had already been dead for a week."
"What?" Sherlock asks, smiling.
"The body in the car – dead for a week."
"Oh, this is a good one. Is it my birthday?" He turns to Greg, "You want help?"
"Yes, please."
"One condition."
"Okay."
"Take all the credit." John looks up at Sherlock. "It gets boring if I solve them all."
"Yeah, you say that, but then John blogs about it and you get all the credit anyway." John laughs at this and hands the sheets back to Greg.
"Yeah, he's got a point." He says.
"Which makes me look like some kind of prima donna who insists on getting credit for something he didn't do."
"Oh, I think you've hit a sore spot, Sherlock."  Sherlock shakes his head at John as if he doesn't understand.
"-like I'm some kind of credit junkie."
"Definitely a sore spot." You add. Greg waves towards Sherlock,
"So you take all the glory, thanks." Sherlock still seems bewildered,
"Okay." You get up and stand between Greg and Sherlock.
"-thanks all the same. Look, just solve the bloody thing, will you? It's driving me nuts." Greg sighs, frustrated.
"Anything you say, Giles." You all give Sherlock a look, John's told me about this. He smiles at Greg,
"Just kidding." As Greg starts packing away his paperwork, Sherlock turns and silently mouths to John, "What's his name?"
"Greg."
"What?"
"Greg!" John tries to say the word with as little sound as he can manage.
"Oh."
Greg, oblivious to what just went on, looks up from his briefcase.
"It's obvious, though, isn't it, what happened?" John says. Has he figured it out?
"John, you amaze me. You know what happened?" Sherlock asks.
"Not a clue. It's just you normally say that at this point." You smile at this, so does Sherlock.
"Mm. Well, then..." He walks across the room, "-let's help you solve your little problem, Greg." John and Greg both stand up. Greg looks at John in surprise,
"You hear that?"
"I know."
You all smile, and Greg grins at Sherlock's back as he disappears onto the landing. You all follow Sherlock.
"So how's it going then, fatherhood?" Greg asks John.
"Oh, good, great! Yeah, amazing."
"Getting any sleep?"
"Christ, no!" Sherlock's at the top of the landing putting on his jacket.
"You're at the beck and call of a screaming, demanding baby, woken up at all hours to obey his every whim." He looks pointedly at Sherlock. "Must feel very different." John and you smile at this and follow Greg down the stairs.
"I'm sorry, what?" Sherlock calls as he follows you.
"Yes, well, you know how it is. All you do is clean up their mess, pat them on the head." John continues. You laugh at this.
"Are you three having a little joke?" He asks.
"Never a word of thanks."
"Can't even tell people's faces apart." To add.
"This is a joke, isn't it?" Sherlock keeps asking.
"Then it's all, 'Ooh, aren't you clever? You're so, so clever!'" I don't even think they're talking about babies anymore. Sherlock stops on the bottom step while John follows Greg to the front door and takes his jacket from the coat hooks. You stand next to Sherlock.
"Is it about me?" He asks again.
"I think he needs winding." Greg says quietly to John.
"You know, I think that really might be it." John adds.
"No, don't get it." Sherlock says. You laugh again. Your phone pings. Mycroft.
"I need to go. I'll see you later, okay? Have fun on your case. Nice seeing you again Greg." You tell them. They all say goodbye to you as you grab your coat and walk out onto the path. You stand at the edge of the road and call for a cab.