whispersfrom221b

[whispersfrom221b]

Sherlock: John, I am forced to tell you that I'm in love with you. Please accept my confession.

John: You are forced to tell me? Who on earth can force you to do something against your will?

Sherlock: Our landlady.

John: Mrs H?

Sherlock: Is that really the most important part of my confession?

John: I'm still processing the other part. So yeah. How can she force you?

Sherlock: She threatened to throw us out.

John: Why would she do that?

Sherlock: She said she's fed up with us 'pining'. Whatever she means with that. So, do you accept?

John: I … do you mean it?

Sherlock: Naturally. How could I not love you, John? That should be obvious. Even Gerrit knows how I feel and he's not very perceptive.

John: Wow. I honestly don't know what to say. I mean, yes. Yes, of course. I love you Sherlock, have done for years.

Sherlock: Perfect. Let me inform Mrs H that we'll stay.

John: shouts Oi, don't run away! This conversation is not over yet!

[whispersfrom221b]

John: shouts Sherlock, come over here. You have to see this. Quick!

Sherlock: What's so important, John? Be fast, I have mould to grow.

John: snickers I found Mycroft's Instagram.

Sherlock: Don't be ridiculous, John. Mycroft would never use Instagram.

John: Apparently he does. See? He posts a picture of himself with bed hair and a cup of tea every morning. And people seem to like it. He's already got 220k followers. What are you doing, Sherlock?

Sherlock: Setting up an Instagram profile. I bet I get a million followers before he does. shouts And using experts for help is cheating, brother.

[whispersfrom221b]

Rosie: Daddy, I brought Maya with me. Is that okay? She's new in my class and I told her you wouldn't mind.

John: *chuckles* You're lucky Mrs H made enough food to feed an army, Honey. Hello Maya, nice to me you.

Maya: Nice to meet you, Mr Watson. Rosie told me a lot about you.

John: I hope only good things and not how annoying or embarrassing I am. Stop rolling your eyes, Rosamund. And Maya, you can call me John if you like. *shouts* Sherlock, lunch is ready. And wear some clothes, Rosie brought a visitor.

Maya: I can't wait to meet your famous Papa, Rosie.

John: Papa?

Rosie: Oh, I forgot. Maya, you can't call him my Papa here. Daddy and Sherlock are still pretending they're just "good friends".

John: Preten—?

Maya: Didn't you say they were dating for three years?

Rosie: Nearly four, but they're still trying to figure out how to tell me. It's quite funny to watch them pretending. So please, don't let them know I know.

John: You know I can hear you? I'm literally next to you.

Rosie: I know.

John: Since how long did you know?

Rosie: About from the beginning. But Uncle Myc said I should wait until you tell me and enjoy the show in the meantime. He said it'd be fun and you can always trust Uncle Myc to know the fun thing. You'll like him, Maya. Uncle Myc is the best.

Sherlock: Hello Bumblebee. Hello friend of Bumblebee, I'm Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, Rosie's godfather and John's good friend.

John: Sherlock, we can stop pretending. She knows.

Sherlock: She… oh.

[whispersfrom221b]

Sherlock: Hrmpf…

John: What's wrong?

Sherlock: Nothing.

John: You sound like my mum. Spill.

Sherlock: You're dating Molly.

John: She just asked me—

Sherlock: She asked you and now you're dating her.

John: I'm not—

Sherlock: If I'd have known that all it needs is to ask you, I'd have done that.

John: Are you saying you'd want to date me?

Sherlock: Obviously.

John: How is it obvious?

Sherlock: I haven't destroyed any of your jumpers in months. And I ask before I use your laptop. Occasionally.

John: Ah, yes. The universal signs of attraction.

Sherlock: Indeed.

John: Listen, Sherlock. Molly asked me if I'd accompany her to her sister's wedding this weekend. That's all.

Sherlock: This means you wouldn't date me if I asked?

John: I didn't say that.

Sherlock: So you'd date me.

John: I would. If you ask me.

[whispersfrom221b]

Sherlock: John?

John: Yes?

Sherlock: Nothing.

John: Okay.

Silence

Sherlock: John?

John: Yes, Sherlock?

Sherlock: Nothing.

John: Fine with me.

Silence

Sherlock: John?

John: chuckles Yes, you menace?

Sherlock: I … nevermind. Nothing.

John: Alright.

Silence

Sherlock: John?

John: Hmm?

Sherlock: Do I really have to apologise? The jumper was ugly.

John: You're lucky it was. But it still doesn't matter. No apology, no Bunsen burner.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: So, to summarise it: You organised for me to get abducted and fabricated an absurd scheme to rescue me, including a mad chase across the roofs of London and nearly getting both of us killed, just because you forgot about my birthday and didn't buy me a present.

Sherlock: Yes. I hoped that it would distract you from your birthday and you wouldn't notice that I'd forgotten it.

John: You know you could have taken me to dinner. Or bought something on your three hours of being out and about scheming. Or whatever.

Sherlock: Now that you said it, I agree. That might have been adequate alternatives.

John: Sometimes I wonder why I don't move out and live a peaceful and quiet life.

Sherlock: You'd be bored.

John: sighs Unfortunately, you're right. I just hope we'll survive it when you forget our anniversary.

[whispersfrom221b]

Greg: The only reason I keep giving you cases is that I don't want my best friend in jail for murder.

Sherlock: Please. John would do a lot for me, but he wouldn't commit murder just so that I'd have something to solve. He knows that I know him better than he does himself, so it wouldn't be a mystery at all.

John: I think Greg means you'd be the victim in this scenario.

Sherlock: You wouldn't murder me. Would you?

John: Sometimes is it's a close call.

Sherlock: John, please. You practically confessed in front of the police. And most likely the government as well.

Greg: I think we'd all turn a blind eye in this case. It would be justified.

Sherlock: Make it quick, John, if death is inevitable.

John: Or, you know, you could simply apologise.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: We are NOT naming the dog Mycroft!

Sherlock: I don't see why we shouldn't?!

John: Because it's your brother's name!

Sherlock: That's the point. Imagine John how we can call "Mycroft sit! Mycroft down! Mycroft heel!" It's brilliant. Have you never dreamt of ordering Mycroft around and he obeys?

John: I see your point.

Sherlock: So it's Mycroft?

John: No. I've got a better name for him.

Sherlock: And that would be?

John: Sherlock!

[whispersfrom221b]

Sherlock: Are you sure you want to wear … this?

John: What's wrong with it? Those are my normal clothes.

Sherlock: Exactly.

John: We're just going to have dinner somewhere.

Sherlock: If that's how you talk to all of your dates, it's no wonder that you're still single.

John: Date?

Sherlock: Yes, John, date.

John: We're going on a … date. You and I. Did I miss something? When did we decide to go on a date?

Sherlock: You asked me not four hours ago if we want to have dinner at Angelo's today. I agreed and you said, and I quote, "Great. It's a date."

John: That's a phrase.

Sherlock: I should have known that after your hundreds of attempts to find a wife, agreeing on a date turned into a phrase to you. Stupid, Sherlock.

John: No, I mean it. It's actually a phrase. But we could, if you like. You know, make it a real date.

Sherlock: Is that another phrase?

John: No, that's me asking you out.

Sherlock: For romantic purposes?

John: That's the general idea behind dating.

Sherlock: Fine.

John: Good. That's… good. Great, actually. Just give me a second and I will change in something different.

Sherlock: No need, the first impression is already ruined.

John: Dating you is going to be fun.

Sherlock: Of course. Everything with me is fun.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: Cocktails?

Sherlock: Yes. Problem?

John: I'm not sure I should trust you making cocktails.

Sherlock: It's just chemistry. They'll taste great.

John: I'm not worried about the taste.

Sherlock: I would never poison you.

John: You actually did. Twice.

Sherlock: Just some minor poisoning. But not with the cocktails. It wouldn't do well with what I've planned on doing after we're both a bit less inhibited.

[whispersfrom221b]

Greg: Alright. I've got another one. This one's good, I promise. So: How many Sherlocks does it take to change a lightbulb?

Sherlock: I am totally capable of changing a lightbulb. I don't understand the question, Graham.

Greg: Wroooong!

Sherlock: How can my answer be wrong? I obviously know best what I'm capable of doing.

John: sighs Calm down and drink another shot. Greg is telling a – very bad – joke. It's not about if you're capable of doing something.

Greg: So what's the answer, Johnny-boy?

John: Zero, but it takes a John.

Sherlock: How's that the correct answer?

Greg: You're no fun, Sherly. Sherlock, sorry. And drink the bloody shot, you need to relax.

Sherlock: Fine. But I demand an answer.

John: exasperated You'd ignore the lightbulb until I fix it.

Sherlock: snorts That's actually pretty funny, John. Gavin, I demand another joke and another shot.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: I am Sherlock Holmes. I know everything better than everyone. Oh, I'm so clever that rules don't apply to me. Do this John, do that John, pick up my phone that's lying next to me because I'm a lazy git who doesn't want to move his sexy arse.

Sherlock: You think my arse is sexy?

John: squeaks You're here?

Sherlock: I thought you weren't interested in the male form.

John: I… uhm Sherlock… I…

Sherlock: Shush, John. You know, I think your arse is not too bad, either.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: Broccoli? You wrote your favourite colour is broccoli?

Sherlock: Does it matter what I wrote? It's just for a case, John.

John: Still, you should take it seriously. Or do you want your name forever associated with a dating profile that says your favourite colour is broccoli? Imagine the Yard getting to read it for their files.

Sherlock: Do you want me to answer it honestly, John?

John: I just doubt that you'd manage to spend a whole evening with a broccoli girl.

Sherlock: sighs Give me the sheet. Here, I changed it. Satisfied?

John: Oatmeal? Your favourite colour is oatmeal? Sherlock, are you sure you want to date an oatmeal girl?

Sherlock: Absolutely not.

John: See? So–

Sherlock: But I wouldn't mind dating an oatmeal guy.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: Hey Mycroft, Sherlock and I'd like Indian for dinner. The usual, extra naan.

Sherlock: This will never work.

John: That's how I've ordered dinner for the last two months. Living under constant surveillance should have its benefits.

Sherlock: What do you hold against him? I can't believe you managed to blackmail my brother.

John: I don't blackmail him. He's just aware that I've got your mother's number and that she trusts my word.

[whispersfrom221b]

Sherlock: John, what would you do if there was, hypothetically speaking, a monkey in your bedroom?

John: groans What did you do this time?

Sherlock: Nothing.

John: Sherlock, monkeys can be dangerous. Why did you put a monkey in my room, for heaven's sake. And don't come with 'science'.

Sherlock: I swear I'm entirely innocent.

John: Sure you are. yawns I knackered. We'll deal with it tomorrow. I'm sorry, but you'll have to share your room tonight. I refuse to sleep on this horrible couch when I have an early shift tomorrow.

…

bed sheets ruffling

John: Sherlock?

Sherlock: Yes, John?

John: Is there really a monkey in my room? It's so quiet.

Sherlock: There isn't. There never was.

John: Can I still stay the night?

Sherlock: As many nights as you like.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: Therapy?

Sherlock: sighs exasperatedly Yes John, therapy. Is that so difficult for you to understand?

John: But couples therapy. You and I. Why? Do we have problems?

Sherlock: You don't need to already have problems to benefit from therapy.

John: Okay.

Sherlock: Therapy also helps to confess unsaid things to each other.

John: Is there … something to confess?

Sherlock: Yes.

John: And you can't just do it now because?

Sherlock: Ella will see us at four.

hurried steps and door banging

John: sighs I fear he won't like what I have to confess.

[whispersfrom221b]

John: Where are my jeans?

Sherlock: You're wearing them, obviously.

John: Not those. I mean my clean ones, my actual cupboard full of perfectly fine jeans.

Sherlock: I'd argue "perfectly fine".

John: Where. Are. They?

Sherlock: I have no idea what you are talking about.

John: Did you know that where my jeans used to be I found trousers? Actual trousers, fine fabric and they happen to be from the exact same brands you prefer to wear.

Sherlock: What a fortunate coincidence.

John: Coincidence my arse!

Sherlock: mumbles something

John: What was that?

Sherlock: huffs I said that's what this was about.

John: My arse?

Sherlock: It looks better in trousers.

John: And why do you care about how it looks?

Sherlock: I'm living with it, which means I have to practically look at it the whole day.

John: Oh.