A Distraction at the Bus Stop

The case had taken three days. After putting Catherine (aged 5 months) down for a nap, her father had finally managed to convince Sherlock (aged 37) to get some sleep too.


John made his way downstairs, and arrived back in 221A’s kitchen to find Mary and Mrs Hudson had moved on from looking at photographs of the latter’s new great-nephew.

“So you really were an exotic dancer,” said Mary.

John automatically glanced at the photo album, caught a glimpse of feathers and sequins and looked hastily away again.

“It wasn’t…” Mrs Hudson waved her hands vaguely. “It was more, you know… burlesque.”

Mary grinned. “Were you any good?”

John rested his hand on Mary’s shoulder. “I’m sure Mrs Hudson doesn’t want to talk about that.”

Mary turned and smiled at him. “You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

“Of course not,” said John. “Mrs Hudson taking her clothes off. Why would that be embarrassing?”

He picked up his cup of tea and took a large swig.

“Were you any good?” asked Mary.

“Not bad,” said Mrs Hudson, smiling a little.

“I bet you had lots of fans,” said Mary.

Mrs Hudson’s smile became rather more mischievous. “Just two actually.”

She stood up and demonstrated with a couple of feather dusters while Mary giggled.


John stared at the ceiling and prayed for temporary blindness.




A/N: Sherlock fanfiction: a 221B - a story in 221 words, final word beginning with "b". Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock and John property of Moffat and Gatiss, and the BBC.

221B form invented by KCScribbler (KCS).

"You? Doing jury service?" grinned John, reading his flatmate's letter.

"I will kill Mycroft," said Sherlock.




Both sides had concluded their arguments.

"Well, it looks straightforward to me," said the foreman, in the jury room. "I don’t think he did the burglary. The prosecution's case was pretty flimsy."

There was general agreement to this.

Sherlock smiled.




"Guilty," said the bewildered foreman.

"Guilty?" said the judge, surprised despite himself.

“Yes,” said the foreman. He paused for a moment, concentrating. “His laces indicate his alibi is false, his posture tells us he’s been in the area where the burglary took place, and his chronic dandruff suggests he’s actually been inside the burgled property. Oh, and the defendant needs 37 other offences to be taken into consideration.” The foreman glanced briefly behind him. “Probably."

From the back row, Sherlock nodded in satisfaction.




John gazed at the stunned-looking jurors gathering in the entrance hall.

"What went on in there?" he asked.

"John," said Sherlock, "you know I can't talk about what happens in the jury room."

He swept out and John hurried after him, passing the shaken foreman who was being collected by a friend.

"Are you OK?" John heard her ask. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"Not yet," he said. "After that legal experience, I feel myself called to the bar."




Author's Notes: Sherlock fanfiction: a 221B - a story in 221 words, final word beginning with "b". Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock and John property of Moffat and Gatiss, and the BBC.

221B form invented by KCScribbler (KCS).

It had been an exhausting day. John just wanted to slump in his armchair.

He’d been sitting down for five minutes when the first visitor arrived.

“I wanted to thank you,” said the grateful client. “It’s not much but…” She offered a box of expensive chocolate biscuits.

Sherlock almost snatched them from her. John grabbed them from Sherlock and stuffed them down the side of the armchair.

“You can have them later,” he said. “I’m going to make the lady a cup of tea.”

“Why?” asked Sherlock.

“Because it’s polite,” said John.

While he was making the tea, Mrs Hudson came up. It seemed only hospitable to offer her a cup too, and soon their landlady was chatting to their client.

Then Lestrade arrived to discuss a case with Sherlock.

“No sugar in mine,” grinned Greg.

John sighed and headed back to the kettle.





It was 11PM. Nobody showed any sign of going home.

“Sherlock,” John whispered wearily, “it’s getting late. Everyone’s been here a very long time…”

Sherlock stared at John, bemused and then comprehension dawned.

He turned to the throng: “John’s going out to get Chinese for everyone.”

There was a muddled chorus of takeaway orders in reply.

“Right,” said Sherlock to John. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes,” said John, and went to bed.

(With the chocolate biscuits.)




Author's Notes: Sherlock fanfiction: a 221B - a story in 221 words, final word beginning with "b". Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock and John property of Moffat and Gatiss, and the BBC.

221B form invented by KCScribbler (KCS).

Sherlock was planning the perfect murder.

“Need any help?” asked John.

“Probably best if you don’t get involved,” said Sherlock. “Don’t want anyone saying you’ve got an unfair advantage.”

“I’m astounded you agreed to this,” said John, sitting down. “Organising a murder mystery party for Mrs Hudson’s birthday. In our flat.”

Sherlock shrugged. “That’s what she wants.” He kept his gaze firmly on his laptop. “And she said if I did, she wouldn’t charge me for having to get the drains unblocked.”

John grinned.

“So, you going to be able to behave?” he asked. “Resist telling sweet, elderly ladies they’re idiots who shouldn’t be in charge of an investigation?”

“I,” said Sherlock, “will be portraying the victim.”

“No shortage of suspects, then,” said John.




“I’m stumped,” laughed Mrs Turner. “The perfect murder. You’d swear it’d just been an accident…”

John glared at Sherlock. “I could kill you sometimes,” he muttered.

“Well, you did,” said Sherlock. “Aren’t you pleased you got away with it?”

John sighed, watching Mrs Hudson and her friends giggling like schoolchildren.

“Everyone’s happy. I suppose that’s what counts,” he said.

He looked over at Sherlock, who was heading towards his bedroom with his laptop.

“Where are you off to?” said John in irritation.

Sherlock smirked. “My work here is done. I’m going to go and hide the ‘body’.”

---

Author's Notes: Sherlock fanfiction: a 221B - a story in 221 words, final word beginning with "b". Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock and John property of Moffat and Gatiss, and the BBC.

221B form invented by KCScribbler (KCS).

Er, in the context of Reichenbach this is perhaps not in the best of taste. But my stories do seem to take place in a slightly alternate universe, where the very bad things don't happen. I hope this one comes across as funny rather than offensive ^^"