Dates and Screwdrivers
John was sitting on the sofa keeping an eye on the door when he heard them making their way up the stairs. Rose was laughing, which only proved to make him more annoyed. He'd searched for them for nearly forty minutes before Sherlock finally sent him a text, but was it a reply to one of the many John had sent him? No, it was to ask where he was.
They opened the door and stepped inside. Sherlock first, followed by the girl. He was on his feet in the next moment.
"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.
"Well, hello to you too," Rose said, giving him a smile, but one he refused to return.
"Dinner," Sherlock replied.
John's mouth dropped open as all the gears in his mind screeched to a halt.
"Dinner?" he asked.
Sherlock took off his coat and tossed it on the back of a chair.
"And murder, but that came later," she added.
"Murder?" but that jumped to the back burner. "Hang on. You two had dinner?"
"Yes, John, we had dinner," Sherlock said, flopping down in his chair.
John stared at his flatmate, completely stunned. In all the time he'd known Sherlock he hadn't shown the slightest interest in the opposite sex with the exception of one woman and she had been quite…unusual. And dangerous. The woman standing in front of him was a bit odd, what will all that appearing in the flat nonsense, but other than that she seemed…nice.
"Isn't that usually how it's done?" Rose asked. "I'm going to put the kettle on."
John watched her disappear into the kitchen still trying to get his mind around the idea.
"Together?" he repeated.
"Why does everyone keep saying that?"Sherlock asked.
Hang on. Other people knew about this?
"Everyone? Everyone who?"
"You…Lestrade…" Sherlock waved his hand. "Honestly. You'd think I'd never gone to dinner with anyone before."
"You haven't. At least, I didn't think you had."
"We've gone to dinner together," he replied, gesturing between him and John.
"Yes, but that's different."
"I don't see how."
Did he really mean that? He took in his friend's demeanor, maybe he didn't know.
"You…I mean, you realize what going to dinner with a woman means, don't you?"
"It means that they order food and partake in conversation."
"Yes, but there's more to it than that."
"Like what?" Sherlock asked, eyeing him.
"When you take a woman out for dinner it means you're taking her on a date."
Sherlock bolted forward.
"Shhh, keep your voice down," John hissed, trying to not laugh at his friend's shocked face.
Rose popped her head in the room.
"All right in there?"
"Yeah, fine, we're just…um…having a chat," John said.
"Do you two want tea? It's almost ready."
"Sherlock?" she asked, but he was staring at John.
"He'll have a cuppa too," John supplied, realizing Sherlock either hadn't heard or was incapable of speech at the moment.
She vanished back into the kitchen.
"No," Sherlock finally managed in a low whisper.
"Yes," John said.
"But I can't have…I mean, we can't have…" he said, looking as if someone just told him Mycroft moved in downstairs and would be taking tea with them every morning.
"I'm afraid so," John replied, trying to not laugh.
"Are you sure?"
"Did you pay?"
"There you have it," John said, clapping his hands together.
Sherlock sat back and appeared to be lost in thought, but John wasn't going to let him get away with that. Not after all the worrying he'd gone through.
"So, how was it?"
"How was what?" Sherlock asked in that only paying half attention sort of way.
"Your first date?" John inquired, giving him a smile.
"That's not funny, John."
"It's a bit funny."
"Not at all."
"Actually…" He trailed off as Rose brought the tea out of the kitchen.
She sat the tray down. John picked up his cup, but Sherlock's eyes were trained on the girl. She picked up her cup.
"Was it a date?" Sherlock asked.
Rose had taken a drink of her tea and nearly spit it out.
"Sorry?" she asked, after her chocking subsided.
"You and I. Dinner. Was it a date?"
She gave him a flirtatious smile…Flirtatious? With Sherlock? John shook his head. He glanced at his friend and he could see his flatmate trying to work out why she was smiling at him like that. He held back a laugh, turning it into a cough instead.
"Did you think it was a date?" she asked.
"Then it wasn't."
"See, John, I told you it wasn't a date," Sherlock said with a smile as he picked up his tea.
"But you said you two had gone to dinner?" John asked.
"We did go to dinner." She turned to Sherlock. "Did you tell him about the murder?"
"Murder?" John asked and then remembered she mentioned that before he was sidetracked by the idea of his flatmate going out on a date.
"When we were walking back from the restaurant we heard a woman scream. We found her, but there was this bloke holding a gun to her head. I disarmed him, but-"
"You?" John asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, me. What? You don't think I could?"
"No…I mean…It's just…" He trailed off trying to think of the right way to put the fact that she didn't exactly look like she was capable of disarming a man desperate enough to pull a gun on someone, but there really was no right way to say it.
"I can assure you that Ms. Tyler did indeed disarm him."
"Anyway, the woman was able to get away, but someone had been watching him and after I disarmed him he was shot."
"A single bullet to the head," Sherlock supplied.
"And you saw it happen?" John asked, looking at Rose.
"Kind of hard not to since he was standing right in front of me. Mind you that bullet came pretty close. I heard it pass by me."
"And you…are you alright?" John asked, trying to decide if he should check her over or not.
"Me? Yeah," she said, waving his concern off.
"Ms. Tyler is perfectly fine," Sherlock insisted.
"Perfectly fine?" John asked. "You do realize that witnessing a murder isn't a common occurrence for most people."
"I'm fine," she insisted. John looked at her. "Really." She turned to Sherlock. "Show him the picture."
"What picture?" John asked.
"It's in my pocket," Sherlock said, pointing at his coat on the back of the chair she was sitting in.
She reached into the pocket and pulled out a folded paper. John took it and unfolded the paper. It was picture of Rose and Sherlock and they appeared to be…
"Not a date?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between them.
"No," Sherlock insisted.
He looked at the word written across the front. A word he remembered one person saying.
"Moriarty," he said.
For the last three months Sherlock had been accumulating evidence that his nemesis was still alive. John thought he was fixating and seeing fires where there wasn't even smoke. Moriarty was dead. He shot himself. Sherlock watched him pull the trigger after putting the gun in his mouth. People didn't come back from that.
Sherlock pointed out that John had seen him jump from the top of a building and believed he was dead, but John had been pretty far away. Sherlock had been right there when Moriarty killed himself.
He read the word again. BURN. It seemed, once again, Sherlock was right. Moriarty was alive and he wasn't just coming after Sherlock. He was coming after all of them.
"That reminds me. I wanted to have a look at your…" Sherlock trailed off.
John looked at his friend thinking his flatmate was talking to him, but he was holding his hand out to Rose.
"My what?" she asked.
"The weapon you used to disarm that man."
Weapon? She had a weapon? And that's what she used to disarm that bloke. That made more sense than what John had imagined, which had to do with her jumping some crazed nutter with a gun.
"I told you it's not a weapon. It's a screwdriver," she said, setting her cuppa down to reach inside her pants pocket. She pulled out a long thin futuristic looking lamp with a blue light at the end.
"This," Sherlock said, taking the offered device, "is not a screwdriver."
"Sonic screwdriver, actually," she said.
"I know what sonic means," Sherlock cut in.
He looked it over, turning it in his hands. He had that look. The one that told John he'd love to dissect the device to find out how it worked and John wondered if he'd have to take it away before Sherlock started tearing it apart.
"How does it work?" his friend asked.
"It has different setting. You just pick the setting you need, point it, and hold the button down. It can't do everything, mind you. Not like The Doctor's, but it can do-"
"The Doctor?" Sherlock asked, eyeing her. "He has one?"
"Well, yeah. That's where the idea came from. I mean, James wouldn't have wanted one if The Doctor hadn't…" she trailed off with a look of having said more than she meant.
"If The Doctor hadn't what?"
Who was this doctor they were talking about? Sherlock was discussing him as if he'd heard the title before, but what sort of person went by a title instead of a name? John was a doctor, but he didn't go around making people call him The Doctor.
"Hadn't…you know…left and taken his with him."
"Where did James get it?"
"He made it."
"This?" Sherlock asked in disbelief. "He made this?"
"Yeah. He was always working on one thing or another, but that…" she pointed at the…screwdriver? Is that what she called it? He had to agree with Sherlock. It looked nothing like a screwdriver. "That was the first thing he made."
"How does it work?" Sherlock asked, looking it over again.
"You just push the button and…" But before she could finish her explanation Sherlock pushed the button and the lamp on his side table sparked. John jumped from the sofa.
"What the hell…?" he yelled.
"Give it here before you burn the flat down," she said, holding her hand out. "I'll show you."
Reluctantly, Sherlock handed the…there's no way that's a screwdriver…over.
"Like I said, it doesn't do everything," she said, gazing around the room as if she was searching for something. "I know."
She seemed to be turning the top and then reached into Sherlock's coat.
"What are you…?" Sherlock asked, but trailed off as she pulled his phone out. "That's my phone."
"And the battery's half gone, like I thought." She pointed the device at his phone and pushed the button. It emitted a strange warbling noise. She released her finger and the noise stopped. "There. Fully charged."
She handed the phone over to Sherlock. He looked at it. John leaned over and gazed at the full battery in disbelief.
"It charges phones?" he asked.
"Batteries actually and a few other things."
John wondered just what the other things were.
"Like disarming people," Sherlock supplied.
"Shoots a static charge through guns, yeah."
"Why would you need something like that?" John asked.
"It comes in pretty handy," she replied with a shrug that told him he wasn't going to get a more elaborate answer. She slid the screwdriver back in her pocket.
He let the matter drop, but decided to keep an eye on her. He'd known Sherlock long enough to be able to tell that his friend was intrigued by this mysterious woman. It wasn't just the mystery surrounding her. There was something else. Something that caused his friend to glance at her when her attention was elsewhere.
Thank you to all my brilliant readers!
If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)