#but I saw one of the lil buggers on my freaking finger

[furshrimps]

Fleas 😭

[lilsherlockian1975]

22 Warstan (can it be Sherlolly wedding? But not necessarily) :)

What a challenge! I’ve never written ‘Warstan proper’ before. Thankfully, the lovely @mizjoely looked over it for me (since she’s an amazing Warstan writer). Thanks, Miz!! And thank you @mychakk for the prompt. This one was fun!

How in the name of all things good and holy did Sherlock sodding Holmes beat me to the altar? John wondered as he watched his best friend dance with his lovely wife.

Not that he was in some great hurry to get married, exactly. Although… he was six years older than the detective and not getting any younger. The detective who, for the record, had sworn off all things love and sex-related! John could personally attest to the fact that Sherlock did indeed enjoy ‘pleasures of the flesh’ as the berk had once described, because until the week before he’d slept above the very vocal couple.

Looking down at his empty glass, he mumbled, “I need another drink.” then made his way towards the bar. When he got there, he waited patiently while a balding man in his late fifties ordered the most complicated beverage since the Babylonians first fermented honey.

Finally, the man took his pink and purple monstrosity and left, grinning like a fool. John stepped up. “I need something strong,” he said. “Preferably a lot of it.”

The bartender, a pretty blonde, wasn’t paying attention, too busy glaring at the man with the complicated drink. “If you order something with fewer than six cherries, I’ll name my firstborn after you,” she finally said, turning to face him.

Mercy… She wasn’t pretty; she was beautiful. Exquisite. Stunning. “Gorgeous…” he mumbled unintentionally.

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

He quickly realised what he had done. “Ah, that was a gorgeously bad drink,” he rushed. Gorgeously bad? He shook his head. It’ll have to do.

“I know! I don’t get paid enough to experiment nor do I care to. Doesn’t he know you order the most expensive liquor at an open bar? That entire drink had a half shot of bottom shelf rum.”

John laughed, his mood immediately lifting, but suddenly a look of fear broke out on the bartender’s face.

“Shit! I… do you know him? You’re in the wedding party, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am, but no, I don’t have a clue who that was. Probably some distant relative I’ve yet to meet.” He held out his hand. “I’m John, the best man.”

The woman shook his hand, brightening slightly. “The best man? That’s a funny last name.”

John laughed. “Adorable.” Again, he’d not intended to say it out loud. What the hell’s wrong with me today? he wondered. He was way off his game.

But the woman just smiled, then held up a single finger and winked before disappearing through the door next to the bar. A minute later she reappeared holding something behind her back. “This is the really good stuff,” she whispered as she poured him a glass of Talisker.

John whistled. “No kidding,” he said as he took the glass of whiskey. Everyone was either dancing or eating, so he thought he’d take the time to chat with the woman who’d just handed him a very large, very expensive drink. “Ah, do you work for the venue or the catering company?”

“Neither actually. A friend of mine works for the caterers but he broke his leg and asked me to fill in for him. Luckily, I’ve tended bar before. Unluckily, I’d forgotten how much I hate it.” She looked toward the dancing couples as she finished with, “I’m sort of in between jobs.”

John remembered that feeling. Not too long ago he was barely making ends meet. Now he had two jobs (three if you counted part-time Sherlock-sitting). He was just about to ask about her previous employment when he was interrupted by his best friend.

“Ah, John, there you are,” Sherlock said. “I might have known I’d find you chatting with the lovely Mary here.”

“You two know each other?”

“No. We just met a couple of hours ago but she won my admiration when she told Mycroft to bugger off after referring to her as the help.”

“I didn’t know he was your brother, Sherlock. I just assumed he was some government pencil pusher with a superiority complex.”

“And you weren’t wrong in that assessment, Mary.  Can I get some cool water for Molly? She’s not feeling well.”

The woman nodded.

“What’s wrong with her?” John asked.

“The champagne didn’t agree with her and she’s a bit light-headed,” Sherlock explained.

Mary handed him a glass of water. “No wonder, Sherlock. Pregnant women, especially in the first trimester, are very sensitive to certain tastes. She’s probably a bit overheated as well. You should take her outside for some fresh air. Also, some plain crackers wouldn’t go amiss.”

John was about to admonish Sherlock for not telling him about Molly’s pregnancy when he noticed the look on his face.

“Molly’s… pregnant? Sherlock whispered. He’d gone white as a sheet and his eyes were suddenly comically large.

Mary’s face fell. “Oh my God! I assumed you knew, what with being… well, who you are and all.”

“Pregnant?!” the detective said a little louder.

John saw the oncoming freak-out well before it happened, but there was no stopping it. Sherlock turned and dashed toward his new bride, shouting her name as he ran. Molly, who was sitting a few tables away from the bar, talking with Mike Stamford, tried to calm her husband, but he well and truly lost it. He picked her up - actually picked her up!- and carried her out of the building as the entire room watched.

“Bugger! I feel awful,” Mary said as the door closed, cutting the couple off from the crowd.

“Not your fault. I don’t know how he missed it. He knows… everything,” John said, then something occurred to him. “How did you know, by the way?” That was some Sherlock level deducing.

“I’m a nurse and…” She suddenly seemed a bit shy. “… I can read people, a bit.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “It came in handy in my former job.”

“Which was..?”

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” she said with a smirk, though, for some reason John half believed her.

“That almost seems worth it.”

Mary laughed. “Maybe.”

He really couldn’t take it anymore. She was funny and intelligent and beautiful and mysterious. Throwing caution to the wind, he asked, “What are the chances I could get your number?”

“Pretty good, I’d say.”

“Yeah?

“What would you do if I gave it to you?” she asked.

I’d marry you, he thought, or at least he thought he thought, until he saw the surprised and, thankfully, pleased look on the woman’s face. “Oh, damn. I did it again, didn’t I?”

Biting her lip, Mary nodded. “I’m sure it’s just the Talisker,” she said, gesturing to the drink in his hand.

He had only taken one sip. Bless her! The woman wasn’t only stunning and smart, she was compassionate too. “Are you sure you want to give me your number?” he asked, wondering if he’d just ruined his chances.

“Positive,” she replied. “But I promise not to hold you to that proposal.”

She lied. They were married six months later.

Thanks again. Hope you liked it! ~Lil~

[itsclydebitches]

AO3: x

Part 10 of neighbors!AU

“Friends. Buddies. Pals. This is some kind of an abomination.”

Cass stared in horror at the pub Tulip had dragged them into, drawing his poncho a little tighter around his shoulders, like a child in need of comfort. Because this was just all kinds of wrong. Seedy, perhaps? Rough enough to give a grown man nightmares? No. Quite the opposite, in fact. This place was homey.

“Welcome to The Chili Dog. Oh hey, Tulip. You got three this time?”

Tulip pointed to the men on either side of her. “Yep. Picked up another stray, Wendy. The corner booth open?”

Wendy laughed. “Yeah, if you give me a sec to wipe it down. You new or just passing through?” She held out a hand that Cass shook limply. Wendy smelled like grease and disinfectant.

“Uh... new.”

“Great! Listen, tell me all about it when my shift ends.” Wendy leaned in conspiratorially. “Donnie is a bit of a slave driver. He’s a sweetie at heart, swear it, but during the lunch and dinner rush hour you’d best be working your ass off or else,” Wendy drew her index finger along her neck.

“Donnie,” Jesse muttered. The tone was foul enough to startle Cass. Wendy just laughed again.

“You two. I’ll go clean your table. Gimme just a sec.”

Wendy trotted off and Tulip raised a hand towards her retreating back. “Behold, the one non-asshole in this entire town. She is young though. Impressionable. We must protect her at all costs.”

Cass smirked. “Not sure you want me talkin’ to her then. Who’s Donnie?” He poked Jesse’s shoulder and ooooo, it was like poking solid rock. Nice.

“He’s the cook.” Tulip answered as Jesse just glared daggers at the kitchen door. “He and Jesse have this stupid feud going on—”

“He’s scum. I’m just responding to his scuminess.”

“Please. You two fools are the only poor white trash in this town and you fight over that title like dogs.”

Jesse scowled as Cass cackled, the three of them following Wendy as she waved them over to the corner booth. She laid three menus out on the table and gave Tulip a wink before running off for water.

Cass slid across the squeaky leather with distaste. “Alright. I’m serious now. This place is freaking me out. It’s so clean.”

“You expected a pigsty?” Jesse asked, shoving a menu at him.

“Well yeah! The hell you think a pub is anyway?”

Jesse and Tulip frowned together, each turning to take a closer look at their surrounding: nice wooden tables with red leather booths, paneled floors, soft lighting, decor that said ‘rustic’ without being garish about it. They turned back to one another and shrugged.

“Yes?” Tulip ventured.

“Oh good fuckin’ god, and you call yourselves trash. Where’s the broken window, huh? The empty bottles everywhere? The floor should reek with all the disgusting fluids that have spilled on it over the years. It ain’t a pub unless there’s a guy passed out on the table. Does that guy look passed out to you?”

Cass pointed violently to the couple across the room, oblivious to them as they enjoyed their lunch. Jesse was glad. He slowly lowered Cass’ hand back to the table.

“You’re weird,” he announced. “And you came to the wrong town. If you like the slums so much why didn’t you stay there?” It wasn’t an insult or a condemnation—and Cass didn’t take it as such. He just nodded thoughtfully, playing with the saltshaker.

“Guess I wanted the change,” he murmured. “I’ve lived a long time, Padre. Been a whole lot of places and seen a whole lot of shit. Never lived the good life though.” He gestured vaguely, encompassing the whole town. “Finally got the money together. A few lucky investments, pals who owned me big, a will or two I squeezed into,” Cass chuckled at Tulip’s distasteful look. “Figured I’d treat myself.”

“And you end up with a house that’s haunted,” she said.

“Fuckin’ figures.”

“At least it’s interesting,”

“You’re interesting,” Wendy said, winking at Tulip as she sauntered over. “Enough of that though. What can I get you three lovelies? And what’s the latest gossip?”

“Burgers all around,” Jesse answered, only casting a quick look at Cass to make sure that was okay. “Cokes too.”

“We’re all outta Coke. Pepsi okay?”

“The hell you mean you’re out of Coke?”

“Just what I said. Out. Of. Coke.” Wendy cast a significant glance back at the kitchen, then bent close to murmur, “Work with me here, Jesse. They basically taste the same.”

Jesse scowled. “Like hell they do.”

Tulip laid a hand on his arm. “Pepsi is fine, Wendy, thanks. Well-done for the burgers.”

“Not mine, luv.” Cass wiggled his fingers. “Rare as they'll let you make it. I want to see that cow's blood oozin’ across my plate if you can swing it."

Wendy stared. "...alright," she said and walked away, casting some overly curious glances behind her. Jesse put his head in his hands.

"You're gonna be the death of us, aren't you?"

"Probably," Cass agreed. "Especially considerin' we've got a homicidal ghost on our hands, and like I said, I've got shit all experience with these buggers. Met a friend down in New Orleans who claimed to perform exorcisms, but honestly I think the boy was just high as a fuckin' kite. You really think your lil' goody-goody library is gonna have info on that?"

Tulip shook her head. "Nope, but its got a real detailed history of most of the folks who've lived in this town. Lineages, obituaries, local accomplishments and shit like that." Tulip sighed as the two just stared at her. "Maybe if we can figure out who died there we can, I don't know, help them move on or something."

"Ah."

"Smart."

"Jesus you two are hopeless."

"You really think that'll work though?" Cass pulled a face. "Kumbaya-ing the ghost outta my house?"

"Not really. But we gotta start somewhere, right?"

"...alright. Fair."

They settled into a companionable silence, the kind that normally took years to develop with someone, and which they'd managed to pull off in just a day. Cass and Jesse started a 'hockey' game involving skidding the salt across the table and hoping to land it in the other's lap; Tulip tried to think through how best to start their research without drawing even more attention to themselves. Not that she gave a damn what the town thought, but things would be a little easier if they could be slightly more inconspicuous.

"Hey there, Wendy whatsit? You know anything about ghosts, luv?"

Tulip closed her eyes.

Yes, because having the pasty outsider in a poncho yelling about ghosts to their waitress—that was inconspicuous.

Wendy was a good soul though. She made a face at Tulip before turning back to Cass with a blinding smile. She held two trays masterfully, one with cokes and one with burgers.

"Can't say I do," she said. "You got an interest, newbie?"

"Could say that. One's trying to cheat me outta my real-estate."

"Place next door," Tulip clarified. "Cass moved in yesterday. We saw some... strange shit last night."

Wendy shivered and threw up her hands. Luckily she'd already deposited the food. "Nu uh. No more out of you. I don't want to know. That stuff gives me the creeps. I don't know how such a pretty little place can be so eerie."

"...don't think my spot's eerie exactly..." Cass murmured sadly. Jesse was engrossed with poking at his food.

"The hell is this, Wendy?" he demanded. Jesse flipped the bun to reveal a charred, sad looking piece of chicken.

"Sorry." Wendy shrugged. "We ran out of burgers after these two," she pointed at Cass and Tulip.

Jesse narrowed his eyes. Slowly, with deliberate control, he reached across the table and snagged Cass' drink, taking a sip. His expression went positively blank as he tasted Coke.

Just to be sure Tulip grabbed his drink and took a sip of her own. Pepsi.

Shit.

"DONNIE!" Jesse hollered, clamoring over Cass to get out of the booth. Wendy stepped back lightly and let him pass.

"Just the messenger," she said as Jesse barreled by her to get at the kitchen. "Enjoy your meal!"