No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Old Habits

John stood up and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Now, wait. This is probably no big deal, maybe you're just remembering something wrong and didn't actually put it in your pocket and left it in the taxi." He smiled reassuringly, kneeling down to look her in the eye.

Sherlock groaned, "Really, John? Of all the things you could have said? She has a photographic memory! And furthermore, I'm sure anything of that importance wouldn't have been left." He stood up and paced to one side of the room then turned around, his hands clasped under his chin.

Celestia looked up, pushing her hair back with a sigh. She pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling, straightening her back and taking the cup of tea in her hands as she leaned back into the couch.

"He must be here."

A startled Celeste looked to an equally surprised Sherlock. They had both spoken at the same time.

"Pardon me," she said quickly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He looked to John who had seated himself back in his armchair. He leaned down, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and looked John in the eye. "I need something, John. I haven't had a case in nearly a week, my experiments are all coming to a close, and I haven't made a deduction in almost four days. I'm honestly not sure what will happen if I go much longer."

"I do!" John whispered back with fake cheerfulness. "Mrs. Hudson, don't you dare give him anything." John commanded, pointed an accusatory finger at the woman.

She lifted her hands in denial, "I don't have any!"

Before they could argue further Celeste spoke up. "So you do drugs then."

Sherlock was still blocking John's view as he blindly asked, "How did you know that?"

"It's a simple deduction really, John. I think even you might be able to manage it based on the conversation we just had." he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well... um... actually I found this."

Sherlock turned around to see Celeste on the floor with the couch cushion removed. In her hand she held a small box.

"SHERLOCK!" John's voice boomed, as his line of vision was cleared.

The detective had lunged forward to grab the box, but John had seen enough. He pushed Sherlock aside and yanked the box from Celestia's grasp. "I'll take this, thank you!" he told her with a smile.

"But, John!" Sherlock whined.

"Sherlock, just because I'm not here everyday to keep you in line doesn't mean you should fall back onto old habits! You could have called me! I could have found you a case or... I don't know, but not this!" He waved the box in the air. He stood up and walked to the door.

"It's been very nice meeting you, Celeste. I'd be surprised if you still want to move in, but I'd love to have a proper introduction if you do." John gave her a quick sympathetic smile before turning to Sherlock who had fallen back into the abandoned arm chair. His voice softened. "Look, Sherlock, I just want to help you," he said gently. "Help Miss Firethorne here, it sounds like she could use your assistance. If you get into trouble, call me." And with that he was out the door, off to his home and to dispose of the hidden box.