John Watson's mobile starts to vibrate and ring from where it's sitting next to him on his sofa. A small picture of his former landlady accompanies her number and name on the screen. He picks up the phone and answers with some trepidation; a call from Mrs. Hudson nearly always means that something is wrong. "Hello?"
"John?"
He could hear the worry in her voice, a slight tremor of insecureness; she was questioning if calling him was a good idea. Something is wrong then. Like always, it's most likely with their shared famous-detective friend. Said detective friend wouldn't be happy with her calling John. He probably doesn't even know there's a problem.
Oh, good lord. John can't help groaning to himself, I got all of that from a single syllable. Sherlock's rubbed off on me.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson! Hello." John overcorrects a bit with a cheerier than necessary voice. He frowns a little at the contrast between the way it sounds and how he feels.
"John, I think I may need your help. It's Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson's voice is still very nervous.
"Of course it is.' He complains. Today is one of his rare days off; dealing with a petulant Sherlock Holmes isn't how he wants to spend it. "Is it drugs again? Or has he gotten sick? Last time he did that, you know, it was only to solve a case. Is he really sick this time, or does he just want me to lure a murderer into his bedroom?" Some may blame him for not immediately being willing to help, but one has to be suspicious of any actions taken by Sherlock Holmes; he has quite the annoying history of deception.
"It's much stranger than that, John. I have no idea what's gotten into him!" Mrs. Hudson urges in such a way that John realizes that she fears for Sherlock's sanity.
John knows quite well that when Mrs. Hudson is worried like she is now, he should be worried. She's never been one to call for help for petty things like random gunshots or blood covered Sherlocks. "What's he done?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you! It's best for you to just come and see for yourself. I'm not entirely sure how to describe it, actually. I don't think he's sane!"
John just sighs into his mobile. So much for a relaxing day off. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He promises.
"Thank you, John."
"Anytime, Mrs. Hudson." He smiles weakly before hanging up.
Mary's out shopping, so he decides to write her a quick note before heading out to find out what's wrong with Sherlock. He's got no idea what he's heading into. This could range from... Well, just about anything to just about anything else.
Mrs. Hudson called. Something's up with Sherlock. Will be back as soon as possible. Not entirely sure what that means. -John
He grabs his keys, coat, mobile, and wallet and before long he's outside catching a cab and instructing the cabbie to go to 221B Baker Street.
A/N: Super short, John introducing chapter!
A small idea managed to evolve into a well formed scenario without much prompting from me, so I wrote it. It's tiny because nothing afterwards is well formed yet, but I figured I might as well write this bit while it's still fresh.
(P.S. Still super nervous about bad characters. Moffat's and Gatiss' minds are ridiculously unique; one can only hope that a character lands somewhere in the vicinity of the real thing.)
Vote, comment, tell me everything that's wrong with it, blah, blah, blah...
OH RIGHT. Bonus points to whoever can name the adventure referenced by John's little "last time" speech!
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An Incident in the Square
FanfictionA helicopter flies over Trafalgar Square with a man hanging from a police telephone box. Is Sherlock Homes honestly supposed to believe that it was a Derren Brown stunt? [Something slightly WhoLock (mostly Lock)]
