Joy (Sherlock, M, allergies, part 5/5 COMPLETED)

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

... You're not going to leave it there?!

[Spoo]

. . . What a brilliant idea, Sherlock. Truly superb. Heh.

After remaining in that position for at least twenty seconds, poised at the brink of a paroxysm but never quite tipping over, the need once more abated and he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his fingers violently up and down the length of his nose almost as if to punish it.

Um, yespleasethankyou. Lovely visual there. I'm looking forward to see if this "solution" ends up working. For Sherlock's sake (and John's sake?) let's hope it does without any severe consequences.

[HoneyBunny]

It still amazes me how a chapter without any actual sneezes can be so breathtakingly hot.

ughh and then the description of Sherlock's voice being congested and hoarse at the same time makes me tingle in funny places. Um.

Mhh, let's hope Sherlock gets some "relief" from his plan! Amazing fic, VoOs!

[curliecatlover]

I can't even... Wow. I love you. This is so amazing! Can't wait to see how this solution turns out

[MaiMai]

This is so, so amazing and adorable and perfect and just eeeeeeeee!! Can't wait to see how Sherlock's 'solution' turns out either...

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Oh you're wicked!

Deliciously wicked and evil. Let's hope Sherlock will retrieve the shirt.

[squealofapproval]

Please please please continue!!! :33

[VoOs]

So, um, I finished this.

I'm sorry it took so long. I think this part was meant to have a bigger, uh, payoff, but as much as I love the idea of an allergic Sherlock, it turns out I'm actually pretty uncomfortable writing him being too miserable. If that makes any sense at all. So, if people feel a bit cheated reading this, I completely understand. Sorry.

Also, I totally had this whole case and its solution completely worked out, but because I couldn't figure out a way to keep the fetish-y element going through the entire thing, I sort of ran out of steam. I'll save that plot for a non-fetish fic, I think.

Aaaaanyway, here's part 5:

--------------------------------------------------

You'd swear the man goes out of his way to look for trouble, John thought and turned back to his paper with an exasperated eye roll. Skimming through the next few pages, his eyes soon caught the now familiar headline:

MEZZO-SOPRANO FOUND DEAD

Series of Strangling Killings Leave Police Mystified

...then again, what does that say about me, always so eager to tag along with him?

Last week had been quiet. With no cases to sink his teeth into Sherlock had been toeing the line between eccentric and insufferable for several days when that blessed phone call from the Glasgow police had broken the silence at 221B, probably just in time to save the living room wall from getting decorated with a fresh set of bullet holes. After hanging up, Sherlock had done a little twirl on the spot. It ought to have looked ridiculous, a grown man spinning on his bare feet like an over-enthusiastic kid, but because he was, well, Sherlock, he had somehow made it look graceful and energetic instead. While slightly more subdued in his celebrations, John had still welcomed the news, and as he went upstairs to pack, his grin had been mirroring that of his flatmate. Not until after he had finished packing did he remember about Jessica and Brighton, and when he did, his initial pang of guilt had been quickly replaced by a sort of mental shrug. Brighton could wait. There would be other weekends, and it wasn't like the city was going anywhere. Triple murderers, on the other hand...

Before John was even out of his bedroom, Sherlock's voice had come booming up the stairs:

“I take it you're coming?”

Without a second's hesitation:

“Of course!”

“Splendid!”

What did that say about both of them, really?

Ten minutes went by, with no sign of Sherlock returning. Having finished his paper, John leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, letting the smooth movement of the train rock him into a pleasant half-slumber. He was just about to doze off for real when he was abruptly yanked back from the edge of sleep by a forceful sound detonating just outside the compartment door:

“Heh-ISH!”

It was arguably the most precise-sounding sneeze John had ever heard. Absurdly enough, the sound reminded him of a senior military officer barking an order; sharp, vehement, and above all - expecting result. A moment of silence followed, during which John was convinced that the next thing he'd hear would be Sherlock exploding into yet another staccato of sneezes. The silence remained unbroken, however, and when the compartment door eventually opened the consulting detective was standing there looking surprisingly composed and collected, sealed plastic bag swinging from his right hand. Aside from a still-lingering rosy tint at the tip of his regal nose, his face showed no traces of the allergy attack he doubtlessly must have triggered in himself only minutes earlier. It was almost a little... disappointing.

“Mission accomplished?” John asked, raising his eyebrows sceptically as Sherlock stepped through the doorway and carelessly flung his quarantined shirt up on the luggage shelf.

“Most successfully”, came the answer, “Now hush.” And with that the detective sat down on his seat with all the dignified grace of a monarch descending on his throne, his eyes serenely closed and steepled hands back under his chin.

“I swear, the more ridiculous the plan the bigger chance of you pulling it off”, John sighed, only to receive another brusque “Hush!” from the other man.

What now? Mind palace?

That certainly seemed to be the case. Sherlock's eyes were moving rapidly from side to side underneath his closed eyelids, like the eyes of someone deep in REM sleep. Occasionally his hands would twitch, fingers flipping through some invisible file or moving imaginary boxes out of the way in the air in front of him - searching, sorting, analyzing - his lively eyebrows in constant motion, offering a kind of wordless live commentary on the things he discovered in his mind; that was interesting, that was not; that was curious; that irrelevant; that a possible lead; that a dead end. John must have seen it a hundred times before, but he doubted he'd ever get tired of watching this impressive memory technique on display. At one point Sherlock seemed to freeze mid-thought, his expression shifting from focused to distracted to distinctly allergic, a telltale wince flashing across his face for a brief second before he managed to regain control again. A small head shake, a deep breath, and he seemed to plunge even deeper into his trance-like state, leaving any unwelcome sensory irritation behind where it couldn't reach him.

Allergy remedy by sheer brainpower, huh?

He should have guessed. John chuckled to himself, and then his eyes were drawn to Sherlock's jacket pocket, which had begun to buzz. Text alert?

“You want me to take it, Sherlock?” It could be important. Something to do with the case.

“Mhm.”

“I'll take that as a 'yes'.”

John leaned forward and unceremoniously stuck his hand inside his flatmate's jacket, pulling Sherlock's phone out from the man's inner pocket with the effortless ease of someone reproducing an action from muscle memory. A tap on the screen, and the message lit up:

<From: D.I Kirkwood>

Damn.

“Um... Sherlock...?”

“I said hush!”

“Okay, okay, sorry”, John muttered, and began to scroll up to read the previous text message.

<From: Sherlock Holmes>

What about drop-outs? -SH

And before that:

<From: D.I Kirkwood>

All the classmates came up clean.

The phone buzzed again, announcing the arrival of detective inspector Kirkwood's next text: a list of four names - presumably people who had dropped out of the strangling victims' university programme three years ago.

“Sherlock, I think you want to see this”, John said, too curious now to keep his mouth shut. “Kirkwood writes that they hadn't thought about investigating the drop-outs, and he's sent you a list of names. Would you...”

“Ah! Excellent. Give it here!” Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he snatched his phone back out of John's outstretched hand. In the next moment the detective was on his feet, pulling his laptop out of his suitcase.

“The password for the train's WiFi is...”, John began, reaching for his wallet to look at their train tickets, but Sherlock interrupted him:

“Xf4hW56. I remember.”

“From looking at an up-side-down ticket, visible for two seconds before I put it in my wallet? Why am I even surprised?”

“Why indeed, John.” Sherlock's fingers were already flying across his keyboard, the blueish light from the laptop screen making his impossibly angular face seem even more otherworldly than usual. His mouth was a thin line of concentration, but his eyes were narrowed into smiling half moons. The game was definitely on.

At least until the game was put on temporary stand-by, a couple of seconds later, when the postponed consequences of Sherlock's shirt retrieving plan finally came back to haunt him.

The detective was so absorbed in researching the drop-outs that the first sneeze took him completely by surprise. One second he was typing furiously, his eyes moving so fast across the screen that his pupils seemed to go blurry, and in the next -

“eh'GkSHih! Oh, for the love of...!” Blinking and sniffling in the aftermath, Sherlock looked down at his laptop, pulled a face of deepest displeasure at the sight that met him, and proceeded to wipe the screen with his sleeve.

“Charming.” John found it hard to keep the I-Told-You-So tone out of his voice.

Sherlock was not amused.

“Shut up. I... hih...hh- h!IIkSCHh! H'ksch! 'IiSCHuh!” He sneezed into his shoulder, dark curls bouncing against his forehead with every jolt of his head.

“Bless you. You're going to need windscreen wipers for your laptop screen if you're planning to keep that up.”

“Since when is it... -eh'KISHh! 'kSChih! ... s-since when is it good practice for doctors to mock their patients?” It was more a growl than a question.

“You're not my patient, Sherlock”, John pointed out, calmly, “and you only have yourself to blame for this. Like I said before, you'll just have to wait for the reaction to die down on its own accord.”

“But I don't have time for this”, Sherlock exclaimed, with all the theatricality only he could muster, and raked his fingers through his hair before cupping them in front of his nose and mouth, his breath hitching wildly again.

“Next stop: Glasgow central station. Next stop: Glasgow central station.”

“You're right”, John said, speaking louder as to be heard over the fit that was now causing his companion to almost curl in on himself, the man's lean frame trembling with the effort to contain a series of vicious, long-delayed sneezes. “You're right that you don't have time for this, because this is where we're getting off."

When he was able to catch his breath:

“Ughh... right...”

“It's okay, don't get up just yet, I'll manage this.”

Laptop back in suitcase. Highly hazardous plastic bag stuffed into his, John's, suitcase, just as a precaution. The train had stopped.

Shrugging into his coat while walking towards the train doors, Sherlock looked over at John with a defeated, and for him extremely atypical, sort of expression.

“John, remind me to never... 'hiKkshu!... insult an old lady... hH'isch! ...ever again.”

John grinned.

“Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?”

The detective actually smiled in return.

“Rest assured, he'll be back before you know it. After all, I hear there's a murderer running around these parts.”

The two men stepped out onto the platform, side by side, train doors sliding shut behind them.

Edited January 23, 2014 by VoOs

[TheCakeIsAlive]

I honestly wouldn't mind if you were to continue this without a single sneeze. You write both of them exceedingly well and I've thorougly enjoyed reading every line. Am quite curious to know how you had worked out the case.

Very awesome.

[squealofapproval]

That was incredible!! I love that! Typically I love more shippy fictions, but this was an exception! The whole part was well-executed, and Sherlock with perfume allergies... Hm... (I could do something with that...)

[ID2006]

This totally brightened my day.

[sallyhally]

wow VoOs that was amazing! You write both of them so well and so in character!!! I bow my hat to you

PS sry for asking but i m sorta new to the forum (well actually i m not but i haven´t done very much on here yet) and i wanted to know if there is a posibility to "follow" somebody?

[Zebra]

I have so much to do but as soon as I started reading this I couldn't stop! I agree that you write both Sherlock and John wonderfully and I'd love to read more! I adore Sherlock's annoyance and although I love a bit of fetishy-torture, the whole mind palace recovery thing totally fits. Thank you for taking the time to write and share this!

[cally]

This was so amazingly well done. Thank you.

[AngelEyes]

Sherlock is my idol. You write him so perfectly. He is so in control, even in the midst of "events". I love it!!!!

[sneezydreams]

I capital L Loved it!