The Tables Are Turned (Sherlock x OC)

Chapter 9

In response, Sherlock spun around and kissed me passionately. I kissed him back, and his hands traveled up to my cheeks, pressing my face closer to his.

I cut it off first, remembering that John was in the room, and we both turned to look at him.

John was gaping at us.

"Hang-- hang on!" He bumbled. "You two, you're together? You're not gay?"

I smiled at Sherlock teasingly.

"Have you shut yourself off from the world that much that people go to presume you're gay?" I teased.

"Only a little," Sherlock said.

"The whole world thinks Sherlock and I are a couple!" John said, throwing up his hands.

"You're not gay," I said, throwing John a quizzical look.

"I'm NOT--" John started to rant. "Wait, how did you know I wasn't gay?"

Sherlock and I shared a smirk.

"Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!" John protested. "You're like him, aren't you?"

"You're a retired army doctor injured while fighting in Afghanistan, you have a psychosomatic limp in your left leg although the real injury was in your shoulder. You should really fire that therapist of yours. She thinks you have PTSD because your hand 'shakes under stress.' However, when I met you earlier we were under a considerable amount of stress, yet your hand was completely steady, you like the thrill of being in danger. You have a sister named Harriet, goes by Harry. She gave you your phone, but you don't approve of her, she has an alcohol addiction and just split up with her wife. Anything else?"

John gaped at me.

"That's it," Sherlock confirmed.

"That was incredible!" John finally burst out.

"Really?" I said skeptically. "I thought I'd miss a few things, I have been missing for 12 years."

Sherlock's face set to stone.

"Too soon?" I asked rhetorically. "I can do you if you'd like, see what I missed."

"Yes!" John accepted for Sherlock, smirking at him when he threw him a dirty look.

I analyzed Sherlock up and down, spewing out information as I went.

"A self-diagnosed sociopath, not true. Consulting detective, named by yours truly. Thinks police are quite inferior, loves to do experiments -- chemical mainly or about the body-- has a quite annoying brother with a job in, no, as the British Government. Lost lover long ago, at least 10 years, recently rediscovered her. Is NOT gay. Loves to play the violin, no surprise there, it is the best instrument of all time. Is quite fond of his friends and acquaintances, although he doesn't like to show it. Wears nicotine patches..." I switched my gaze from his arm to stare into his increasingly uncomfortable eyes. "You. Were. A. DRUGGIE?!?!?!"

John's eyes widened. "Oh, shit," he muttered, and quickly fled the room. Sherlock and I had a stare down until he broke the silence.

"I thought you were gone," Sherlock said quietly.

"That is no excuse!" I glared. "I can't believe you!"

"You've forgiven me already."

"Damn, I have," I said frustratedly.

"Would it help if I played the violin?"

"Yes."

Sherlock strode over to the corner of the room, while his old violin sat in it's open case, shiny and well taken care of, begging to be played. Before Sherlock had even unstrapped his violin, a heavenly recording filled the air. I grabbed Sherlock's phone out of my coat pocket and flipped it open, answering his call before Sherlock even realized his phone wasn't in his pocket where it belonged.

"Hello?" I asked. "Yes you have the right number, yes, I will give you to Sherlock now."

I briefly heard a man sputtering on the other end before Sherlock plucked his phone from my hands.

"Lestrade! Murder? I'll be there in five." He spun around and shrugged on his trench coat, flipping up the collar to look more 'snazzy.' "John!" He called. "Murder!"

He sighed, and opened his phone again to text John to 'hurry up and come inside Lestrade has a murder.'

I darted into Sherlock's room and grabbed a purple shirt and some dress pants from his closet, tossing them on and bolting out the door again, grabbing the spare pair of heels that John's girlfriend had left at the flat before she broke up with John two weeks ago.

I threw the door to the flat open and jumped onto the banister, sliding down it and landing next to Sherlock.

"So, Lestrade," I said once we were in a cab. "He's a copper. Probably high up. DI?"

"Yes, Detective Inspector. He's the only one worth a cent. All the others are quite irritating."

"Yeah, well, some of that may account to you too, you know," said John. "You're not exactly the most sociable of people."

"Oh, shut up. It's not like you're a a big crowd-pleaser yourself."

"I believe most of that checks to you too."

"Oi, you two, we're here," I said, opening the cab door.

Sherlock and John both got out of the cab and went straight into the station, leaving me to pay the poor cabbie.

"Er, sorry 'bout them." I turned to the cabbie.

"No bother," he said. "Those two never pay for their cabs."

"Hold on, I nicked my boyfriend's wallet." I dug my hands into my pockets, grappling for Sherlock's wallet. "Here you go," I said, holding out a bit of cash. "Keep the change."

"Thank you miss." The cabbie tipped his hat to me and I flashed him a smile before turning and going into the station.

"Excuse me, Miss," a woman jogged up to me. "I'm afraid you don't have the clearance to be in this sector of the station--"

"Please, call me Charlotte. Anyways, I do, in fact have clearance, because Detective Inspector Lestrade has recruited me."

"Can you produce your badge for identification?"

"No, I don't have a badge yet." I sighed as I continued walking, the officer behind me struggling to keep up.

"When were you recruited?"

I pretended to check my watch. "In about two and a half minutes, possibly double that if you try to arrest me."

The lady cop pulled out her walkie-talkie and clicked the button, speaking into it. "Calling all officers in the area, I'm in the entrance of the Southern building, reporting a break-in. Requesting back-up immediately."

Immediately was really immediate, because more coppers burst into the room and the lady officer that had been following me grabbed my wrist. Flipping her over, I snatched the walkie-talkie she had just used and pulled it up to my mouth.