Sentiment || Sherlock Holmes

The Sign of Three Part 1

"Sherlock," John called, coming up the stairs to 221B Baker Street.

Sherlock stood in the kitchen, holding an eyeball to a flame. Evelyn was at work, and murders were unfortunately scarce at that moment, so he had nothing to entertain himself aside from his "experiments."

"What was that noise downstairs?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, it was Mrs. Hudson laughing." John explained.

"It sounds like she was torturing an owl." Sherlock said.

"Yeah," John chuckled. "Well, it was laughter."

"Could have been both." Sherlock mused.

John looked between the eyeball and the lit burner in Sherlock's hands. "Busy?"

Sherlock sighed. "Just occupying myself. Sometimes it's so hard not smoking."

The eyeball slipped out of his grasp and fell into his mug of tea with a plop.

"Mind if I interrupt?" John asked.

"Oh, be my guest." Sherlock said, gesturing to a kitchen chair and switching off the flame.

He picked up the mug. "Tea?"

"Ah..." John declined, a bit disgusted.

"So," John said, sitting down. "The big question."

"Mmm-hmm?"

"The best man." John said.

"The best man?"

"What do you think?"

"Billy Kincaid." Sherlock said.

"Sorry, what?"

"Billy Kincaid, the Camden garrotter." Sherlock went on. "Best man I ever knew. Vast contributions to charity never disclosed. Personally managed to save three hospitals from closure. I mean, the best and safest children's homes in North England. Yes, every now and again there would be some garrotings, but stacking up the lives saved against the garrotings, on balance, I'd say―"

"For my wedding." He interrupted. "For me. I need a best man."

"Oh, right."

"Maybe not a garrotter." John suggested.

"Gavin?" Sherlock offered.

"Who?"

"Gavin Lestrade? He's a man, and good at it?" Sherlock said.

"It's Greg." John corrected. "And he's not my best friend."

"Oh, Mike Stanford, I see." Sherlock said. "Well, he's nice, erm...Though I'm not sure how well he'd cope with―"

"No, Mike's great, but he's not my best friend." John was getting irritated.

Sherlock paused.

"Oh, Evelyn! She's not a man, but―"

"Look, Sherlock, this is the biggest and most important day of my life." John said.

"Well..." Sherlock disputed.

"No, it is, it is." John said. "And I want to be up there with the three people that I love and care about most in the world."

"Yes."

"Mary Morstan, who is going to ask Evelyn Hudson to be her maid of honor..." John said.

"Yes."

"And..."

Sherlock was silent.

"You." John said.

More silence. The quiet stretched on and on as Sherlock stared blankly at the kitchen table.