So I found this cute little stream of texts between John (now June) and Sherlock on Pinterest. After three hours of searching I couldn't find the original creator of the texts, so all credit goes to them, whomever they may be. This will be part of the series I am making for Ghost; Where'd You Go. Most will be silly and others will be sad or fluffy, a break from all the sadness. Just what ever comes to mind. Please enjoy!
Oh, and if needed I can leave a link to Ghost; Where'd you go. In fact, I'm sure if you just click my profile my stories will come up. At least I think they do.
More at bottom.
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock nor any previous owned titles.
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Sherlock was insufferably bored, to say the least. He watched as the ceiling did nothing to consummate this and drowned out in a fuming hate. The room was dull, he had no need for an experiment right now and there weren't any cases that peaked his interest, not to mention June was out, so at the moment he couldn't poke and prod the woman into giving him a glare and warning.
She had specifically told him not to touch her stuff, lest he wanted her to take his things and hide them. Childish, but it worked. If this were the first few months of them sharing a flat, he'd ignore her concern immediately, but she was getting better, instinctively so. He still hasn't found his beloved Yersinia Pestis. He rolled to his side, staring blankly at the cushions of the couch.
June was out on a date and he couldn't be bothered to remember the man's name. The male was loud, boisterous, and as far as he was concerned harmless in every imaginable way, but still found himself plunging into a seat of ire. And she seemed to be quiet taken by him. Which only purged any thoughts of rationality. June was his companion, not this…whatever the man's name was.
At this point they should be eating, talking about mutual likes and dislikes. Rolling about on the couch he sat up, brushing his hands through his hair with a shake before clasping his hands together, placing them under his chin. He covers the flat with his utmost attention. His eyes land on his mobile, sitting on the kitchen table, and he stands before he can think of anything else.
Pulling up June's number, he decided the best way to quench his boredom, or at least entertain it, was to bother her. From afar.
June, I'm bored.
SH
He waits and finds he receives no response. He huffs, settling down on one of the kitchen chairs.
Are you still on your date?
SH
He was nearly impervious to the thought that it might be over, but it didn't change the fact that he wanted it to be done. Why couldn't she just come back to the flat and show him where his precious bacteria was? Plus, that man was hardly her type.
Borrrrred.
SH
He waits five minutes and finds nothing. Not even an irritated sling of letters that are usually hastily written when she's on dates such as these. He stands. He might as well find something to do if she's not here to entertain him, better she text him soon, but it seemed highly unlikely. She'd regret this later, he was sure.
Leaving the kitchen in a fury, he enters her room. His eyes trained the small lock box she keeps her gun in. He'd just due with more target practice. He finds the key under her pillow, and he sighs, she really could've done better hiding it. She was better than this and if she were here he would had skillfully scorned her for such a horrendous way of hiding something that apparently means of importance to her.
Opening the box, he finds its empty and he almost smiles, mirth lacing the glaze in his eyes. Did she take her gun on a date? He should have deduced that sooner. She hardly seemed worried when he texted her, considering the lack of contact, she had straight out ignored him. Which, obviously, meant she was sure he would't be able to play with her dangerous fire arm.
He pulls his phone out again.
Have you taken your gun on a date?
SH
He slides the phone into his palm and leaves, her room a meaningless mess unless she happened to keep something of interest to him. He wanders the flat once more, upon doing so hears a squeak. Normally, he'd be curious, the sound a pitch higher than the vents in the wall. But he rides it out as just that, sitting in his arm chair with an exaggerated swing of the legs.
The dull moment is abruptly put to a stop when he see's he's received a text. His heart flutters vigorously against his chest, but comes to haunting stop when he sees it wasn't June who had sent him back an agitated message, but Lestrade asking him to come in.
He would have, but after reading over the situation, the murder wasn't even a five. He says no. To Lestrade and to the murderer who was obviously after his attention. It isn't long before Lestrade sends another two, and he groans.
Lestrade is annoying me, June.
SH
He falters in his seat, his legs stretching out and resting on the edge of June's arm chair. It's empty and a part of him wishes she was here just reading, at least he'd be bored with some company. He struggles to keep his focus on the silence, that is until he hears the same squeak from earlier and flounced his attention to the left of him. A small mouse scurries away at his hardening gaze.
June hated mice. He stands, picking it up by the tail; he carries it to the kitchen, intent on putting it in a container. And that's exactly what he does, taking out a large rectangular basin, slapping the lid atop. He decides it might be best to tell June of the tiny rat.
I've found a mouse.
SH
He waits, not exactly expecting a response, but gets one in less than a minute.
A mouse?
JW
It's odd that this, of all things, this is what centers her attention on the situation at hand. His ignorant boredom should have grasped for her immediately. He leans down, staring at the small rodent and giving a turn of the lips that just barely classified as a smirk. It would be interesting to see how well it would respond to laxatives. He brings his attention back to the blackberry in his palm.
Yes, June a small rodent.
SH
He waits, expecting another incoming text, but the ringing on his phone stays silent and he huffs. She's ignoring him again. What was so special about this date that put it ahead of the others?
The man was obviously married, (Ring finger, band-shaped indent, ring missing, too fresh for it to be long ago.) He decided to pull a chair up to his backside and sits. (Wallet stuffed, pictures, family pictures to be exact. Are hidden in the back, June won't be able to see them.) Really though, if your going to cheat don't take pictures such as that to another date. Its horribly articulated and he just felt embarrassed for the man. He sighs regardless, because maybe he should have told June. He sort of had, before she had left he had already told her he didn't like the man.
All she had done was roll her eyes and said he didn't like anyone. He thought his obvious dislike of the man was a good enough reason and thought that she'd call off their date. And she was wrong, about him not liking anyone. He liked her, her companionship was the utmost of importance to him. And he hardly paid any mind to Ms. Hudson. Nice woman; could grow on the nerves though.
He decides to push.
Come home or I'll put it in the microwave.
SH
Nothing. Nada. And he was about ready to tug on his hair in frustration. Why wouldn't she pay him any attention?
Juuuune
Sh
Your boyfriend has a wife, and he killed one of
his cats when he was fourteen.
Sh
He thought that'd spark some interest. He about gave up, deciding that maybe the case Lestrade had offered was better than nothing, he was that desperate. But his phone dinged and he felt almost exhilarated, with a passing fill of relief.
UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU
TO PUT THAT MOUSE IN THE MICROWAVE.
JW
Obliterated mirth surrounded his shrouded form and he rested his elbows on the kitchen table. He leans in on the now frantic mouse. He squints and pulls away. Did the damn thing have lice? He supposed it didn't matter. He had June's undivided attention now.
Come back and the mouse lives.
SH
C
He picks up the retainer and moves the conversation to the living room once more, setting the case on her arm chair he sits down in his.
Wait, wife?
JW
He rolls his eyes.
Yes June, a wife. Do catch up.
SH
How did you know?
JW
She's skeptical. Usually isn't and he finds that he's actually shocked. She always praised him, but now, he could practically hear the cynicism in her message. He could see it through the text with the eyes of a hawk. She must have really like the man. Too bad he was leaving her life for good once he was done giving her his deductions.
He has a band-shaped indent on his ring finger
Too fresh for him to have removed the ring
A long time ago, and he arrived at the flat
Today with a finger shaped bruise around collar
bone. I saw when he took his jacket off.
Not domestic violence, don't worry,
They weren't dark enough for that. Likely
Just…interesting bedroom activities.
SH
Her response is immediate.
Right, I'm making my excuses when he
Comes back with the drinks.
JW
He smiles, an overly powerful feeling of success and pride sticking to him like hot glue. He sits up straight, staring at the mouse like it was the best thing to happen to him since yesterday.
The mouse begins to squeak loudly and he takes back what he's thought. Opening the container he takes it in hand and pushes it into the blender. If the thing didn't shut up he'd turn it into another one of his experiments.
Do hurry. The mouse is struggling.
I put it in the blender for the time being
SH
He watches as the mouse struggles against the glass. June was taking her time, wasn't she? His trance on the small being is broken when he hears the familiar sound of his mobile ringing.
I'm in a taxi. Don't turn the blender on.
JW
It isn't long before June enters the flat, eyes fixated on Sherlock, he's sitting in the arm chair, acting as if he were reading a book. He glances up, bright eyes full of glint when they land on her. She leaves him to the book and enters the kitchen. It isn't long until she's in front of him, tapping her foot with executed annoyance and a bit of anger and he finds he has none to no clue as to why she was angry at him. He hadn't left anything open, hadn't touched her tea or lap top. There wasn't much of an explanation for her irate. He lifts a brow and settles the book down on his lap.
"There was never a mouse, was there?" He gives her a confused look, gaunting his eyes to the side to find the blender empty. He stands, marching to the kitchen, shuffling through the clutter on the kitchen table. "Sherlock?" he pauses.
"There was a mouse..."
He's spinning like crazy, trying to find the tiny little creature. How could it possibly escape the blender? He had put the lid on and everything. He even listened to June, didn't turn the rodent into a shake. He nearly jumps, June screaming and he spins to see her on top of his chair, legs shaking and her eyes wide. He goes to see her but finds the mouse on the floor, scurrying away from June.
"Get it!" She screeches and he wants to push her off his chair just to see what would happen. He listens either way, leaning down he attempts to pick the furry creature up but it manages to escape his grasp. It rounds the kitchen and leads its way back to June, who is trying her damnedest to climb higher ground. He finds it amusing, a woman who had fought in Afghanistan, someone who survived a war , was absolutely, undeniably, petrified by a simple rodent. He didn't understand the fuss, but he was entertained so he didn't exactly care much for an answer right now. Instead of going over and helping her he watched as she squirmed in terror. She looks at him, eyes dazed with panic. "Sherlock!" He shrugs, as if he can't move.
Oh, she hated this man.
The mouse disappears for a second, and June swears her heart is put on pause. She hugs to the chair for dear life, arms wrapped around the back of it, and if the thing were alive, it'd be dead by now. Sherlock muses, she squeals when the thing moves once more and she nearly hops off to make a run for the stairs.
"Sherlock, please." June whines out, face studded in fear.
He moves from his spot, June his destination. The mouse goes into hiding once more and the room goes quiet, the constant squeaking it had put up leaving the flat. She breathes softly, examining the room like she were looking for a puzzle. "Why did it stop?" She whispers and he realizes just how traumatized she is, and can't help but snicker at the reactions she's giving him. She punches him in the shoulder. "Sherlock, why did it stop?" She's begging now and he rolls his shoulders.
"It probably got comfortable somewhere." She nods, taking this as her chance to make a run for it and slowly leaves the seat she had used as a safeguard. He watches, obviously bemused and she sends him a glare. It runs over her feet and she jumps, screams and grabs onto Sherlock, climbing up him like he were a tree. Arms snatching his neck and her legs wrapping around his torso in one swift movement. He sputters something but she can't understand him. She's overly fueled with drunken alarm. He sighs. "June, it is just a-"
"A mouse. I am aware of that!" She lures him away, tilting Sherlock to the side with her weight. This would have been a nice piggy back ride if she weren't strapped to the front of him. He doesn't make the attempt to help support her weight, but does head for the stairs, intent and taking her to her room so he could solve their crisis in peace. He's in her room in the matter of a few minutes, her near death curdling screams enough to put any man down, but just enough to push Sherlock up the stairs, the winnings of doing so would be phenomenal. He'd be able to hear.
He drops her on her bed, and like the soldier she was she straightens, fixing her shirt as if she wasn't just screaming her throat dry. She then tucks her knees up to her chest, chin high of course and he sends himself off.
He had to go catch a mouse for his dear Watson.
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So, I don't know if there is a special way to make a series on this website, and I'd be more than pleased and thankful if someone told if there was. Do I leave a link to the other stories or just explain in the notes in what order they go...I apologize if this has come out rude. Please leave a follow, favorite or comment if you enjoyed. You don't have to, but they really motivate and help! Thank you so much for reading!