Chapter Text
I slowly focused on the wardrobe door my sluggish brain trying to work out why I was awake.
'Megan!'
I jerked my head toward the door as the muffled baritone reached my ears, then in a fit of frustration buried my face in the pillows. Well that answered that question. I should have known that the only logical reason for being awake before 10 on a Saturday morning would be that Sherlock bloody Holmes had decreed it. Choosing to ignore the repeated yells of my name, I kept my head buried and just adjusted it so I could breath again. As I was starting to drift back into a comfortable pre sleep daze, my phone vibrated on my bedside table. I instinctively grabbed for it, pulling short just before I reached it as the thought slowly trickled from my brain that it would be Sherlock. With that I pulled my arm back under the duvet and snuggled in.
14 minutes later I gave up. Sherlock Holmes has many qualities; persistence is one of them. Intelligence, brilliance, incredible self motivation, inflated sense of self importance and an amazing ability to infuriate the hell out of me are just a few others. I begrudgingly reached for the phone pulling up the 14 messages I had received at 1 minute intervals before caving in.
- Are you awake? SH (received 7.22)
- Meet me in the kitchen. SH (received 7.23)
- Why do you insist on sleeping so much? SH (received 7.24)
- It's so boring SH (received 7.25)
- Meet me in the kitchen now. SH (received 7.26)
- You are needed in the kitchen. SH (received 7.27)
- WAKE UP. SH (received 7.28)
- I have lost a digit and need your assistance to staunch the blood loss. SH (received 7.29)
- I have lost a limb and need your help to staunch the blood loss. SH (received 7.30)
- I have a perforated organ, your help needed to stop catastrophic blood loss. SH (received 7.31)
- Bleeding to death. Help. SH (received 7.32)
- Please. SH (received 7.33)
- Fine. I will call John. SH (received 7.34)
- John is not answering. I need you. SH (received 7.35)
I hauled my arse out of bed pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie over the knickers and vest I slept in and, after putting on my slippers, made my way down the stairs from my room to the rest of the flat.
I moved into 221b Bakers Street 8 months ago. Living with Sherlock has been .....interesting. Who am I kidding there are no words to describe just how surreal the last 8 months had been. I had been warned before I signed the contract, by the landlady Mrs Hudson, that Sherlock could be difficult. I was also warned by John, Sherlock's old flatmate and best friend, that he was prone to doing intense, stupid and dangerous things. Things such as shooting the living room walls and travelling by tube covered in pig blood, carrying a harpoon. The thing is, when people tell you such fanciful tales, you tend to take them with a pinch of salt. You, or at least I, tend to assume the tale has been embellished and tweaked over time and therefore that living with Sherlock wouldn't be that bad. I was absolutely, totally, undeniably wrong.
The thing is, as annoying and egocentric as he is, living with him is.....exciting. I come home from work I don't know if I'm going to open the door to a quiet peaceful Sherlock free flat, a manic Sherlock pacing the floor, him crashed out on the sofa deep in his mind palace, or standing on the aforementioned sofa pulling his hair out staring at some complicated map of evidence and thoughts about a case that I will be dragged into. I don't know if I will find him in the kitchen intensely hunched over his microscope or open the fridge to find a bowl of eye balls staring at me. I therefore had no idea what sight would greet me as I reached the kitchen. For all I knew he actually could be injured, he had come back from cases before battered and bruised. The last thing I ever expected to find was Sherlock pouring boiling water into mugs with tea bags in. Sherlock was making tea. Two mugs of tea. Actual tea. Tea. Sherlock had never made me tea in 8 months. Never. I had made us both plenty of it but.....
'Ah, you have finally graced me with your presence. ' He waved at a chair at the kitchen table placing a cup in front of it and taking the chair opposite himself, his own tea cup in hand. I admit I just stared at the mug in front of me for a few seconds before shaking myself out of it and sitting down.
'So you don't seem so terribly injured, managed to stop the bleeding yourself then?'
Yes. I may have slightly exaggerated my wounds.' A slight twitch of his lip the only tell of his amusement.
'Glad as I am that you will live to solve another case, I am disappointed that I am up so early on a Saturday for no good reason.' With that said I looked at him with as disapproving a look as I could muster and reached for my mug.
'You have a good reason, if you were not up we would not have the opportunity to drink tea together and chat.' His tone of optimistic cheer had me pause in bringing the mug to my lips and look up at him, to see him smiling at me widely and more importantly a completely fake smile. I have seen Sherlock smile genuine smiles, when he solves a 10 case, when he claims victory over his brother and occasionally at John. This was a fake smile. I glanced down at my mug suddenly remembering the story John had told me of the time Sherlock had put what he thought was a hallucinogenic in his tea.
'I haven't put anything in it.' With that he took a sip from his cup. Then exchanged his for mine. 'Will that do for proof? 'I nodded in reply and took a sip from what had been his mug. It was ridiculously sweet but I continued to sip at it.
'What do you want?' I asked pointedly raising an eyebrow.
'Why do you assume I want something?' I just continued the stare at him with raised eyebrow.
'Consulting detective I am not, but I can tell when I am being played. You want something, you are conforming to societies niceties in an attempt to cajole me into doing something for you. Let me stop you now. Just cut the crap, what do you need and why?'
He sheepishly lowered his head and began. 'My parents are coming to town today and staying overnight. They are staying here. '
'Ok I don't mind that. I assume you will be on the sofa then, actually I have a single blow up bed if you want to borrow that. It sometimes defl....'from the look on his face I knew there was more and undoubtedly worse to come.
'What else?'
'My parents....Mummy.....They happen to believe. ...' He paused collecting himself and with a steeling breath rattled out at his deducing pace. 'Mycroft informed my mother that I was in a romantic relationship with you a few months ago, she is expecting to come here to find us 'shacked up together'. Mycroft obviously did this in an attempt to get mummy to start up again about finding me a nice girl when I denied that we were in a relationship.' He paused. 'So I got one over on Mycroft by not denying it.'
'Hang on your parents think we are romantically involved, because Mycroft told them so and you lied to them as well, because you didn't want to have a difficult conversation with your mother!'
'No I would have ignored the conversation, but it would have upset mummy and I didn't want to do that about something so idiotic. But mostly I did it to see the look on Mycroft's face when his carefully executed plan didn't work. It was delicious.' The last sentence was uttered from a genuine smile a mile wide. 'He is insisting on collecting my parents from the station and bringing them here himself, so he can see the fall out when she finds out I lied. I thought you should have at least a little notice of what had happened before they arrived.'
'I can't believe what children you are. You are both such serious, intelligent, respected men, but you act like such children when together. It is astounding and oddly endearing that even the great Holmes brothers are like the rest of the populations siblings.' He looked at me with a surprised expression.
'I do so wish I had seen the look on his face when his plan failed, maybe I still could.' I said looking at Sherlock, my lips forming the beginning of a smirk at the prospect.
Mycroft Holmes once kidnapped me. I had been warned by John that it might happen, but as I said before I didn't really believe him. I had been living at 221b for 10 days at this point. Although I was completely unharmed Mycroft did for want of a better phrase 'creep me out'. A man you don't know can read you like a book, can follow your every move on C.C.T.V and has a whole secret service/government at his disposal, very creepy. The thing that upset me the most about the whole experience was that its main aim was to discourage me from living or even associating with his brother. If he does this to every person that ever comes in contact with his brother then it is a miracle that Sherlock had any friends at all. That is the main reason I dislike Mycroft, what kind of man pushes all his brothers opportunities for friendship away from him.
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I skipped up the stairs with the milk and a few other bits and bobs I had picked up at the shop. Letting myself in I hung my coat up and kicked my shoes off before taking a deep breath and walking confidently into the kitchen. All eyes turned on me. I smiled brightly and walked over to Sherlock's side. His hand lightly settled on the small of my back and he turned to the others in the room. 'Mummy, Father this is Megan. Megan these are my parents.'
'Its a pleasure to finally meet you.'
'And you dear ' piped in Sherlock's father, as Sherlock's mum just sort of stared at me, her eyes which were so similar to Sherlock's visibly tearing up.
'I believe you have already met my brother.'
'Yes we are already acquainted, always a pleasure Miss Dixon.'
'Mycroft' I nodded and smiled widely at him as I reached down to hold Sherlock's hand, watching Mycroft's smug sneer turn to a barely covered look of confusion.
'Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived I just had to get some milk. Tea or coffee anyone?'
'Tea would be delightful wouldn't it dear?' Mr Holmes asked his wife.
'Yes absolutely, let me help you.'
'No wouldn't hear of it, you've been travelling all morning. Go and catch up with your boys there will be plenty of other tea making you can help me with later' With that I shooed them out of the kitchen. 'Mycroft, tea?'
'Delightful' he said with a condescending smile that perfectly reflected the sarcastic tone in his voice.
'And you darling?' Sherlock turned to me shocked but clocking the look of revulsion on his brothers face recovered taking two steps to me bending down and pressing a kiss to my cheek and whispering a
'Yes please' in my ear. Before turning back to the door to see a beaming Mrs Holmes and a disgruntled Mycroft. 'Come on Mycroft I know you are on a tight schedule, countries to topple, elections to rig etc. and Mummy so wants to have a catch up before you leave, don't you Mummy?' And with that he pushed him through the door as I turned to the kettle trying not to think of the delicious thrill that had gone through me at that baritone voice whispering in my ear.
Having collected myself while the kettle boiled and the tea brewed I got some biscuits, arranged them on a plate and poured tea into a set of cups and saucers that Sherlock had pulled from the back of a cupboard when we were planning early that morning. Putting it all on a tray along with sugar I moved into the living room. Sherlock jumped up from his chair to help me. I almost died of shock at the sight and I was expecting it, his family looked completely confused at his helpfulness. Lifting two cups and saucers from the tray he handed them to his parents before passing them the biscuits. 'Sugar Mycroft?' I asked over my shoulder as I placed the tray on the coffee table.
'One please.' I placed a spoonful in and bought that and the plate of biscuits over to him smiling sweetly the whole time. When I turned Sherlock was perched on the arm of his armchair with a cup held out to me, clearly implying I was to take the seat. I sat thinking to myself that he may be pushing the chivalrous act to far to make it believable. However after a few minutes of listening to the brothers bickering I realised he was pulling it off. Mycroft was pissed off, Sherlock was gloating and that I realised is what teenage boys would be like if one had a girlfriend and the other didn't and to all appearances I was Sherlock's first girlfriend. He was rubbing it in Mycroft's face, as long as I kept the displays of affection not just aimed at Mycroft it would be believable.
After a little while Mycroft went to take a phone call. 'How long have you known each other?' Mrs Holmes asked when Mycroft had left the room. I looked up at Sherlock. '8 months roughly' I replied.
'8 months ,1 week and 5 days' replied Sherlock at the same time.
'I defer to your eidetic memory' I said smiling and lightly touched his hip before leaving my hand on his thigh. 'I needed somewhere to rent at a decent price, and this place is roomy for the price in central London, Mrs Hudson is lovely and the location is perfect. Once Sherlock and I had ironed out our differences....' I lightly squeezed his thigh at that. 'Well I couldn't be happier. ' Sherlock looked down at me when I finished and smiled fleetingly. We continued to chat about my job, hobbies the normal questions your partners family ask until Mycroft came back into the room. As he came in I got up to start collecting the tea cups.
'Unfortunately I have to go, something of importance has arisen, let me help you take those out to the kitchen on my way out Miss Dixon.'
'Please call me Megan .'
'Very well Megan, thank you for your hospitality Sherlock. I do hope you enjoy the ballet tonight Mummy and you too Father. I do hope to be available to take you back to Victoria tomorrow, until then.' with that he pressed a kiss to his mothers cheek and lifted the last cups from the table and joined me in the kitchen.
'Thank you Mycroft'
'You are welcome Megan. I really must dash but thank you for the tea.' As he reached the door to the hall he turned, 'Oh and Miss Dixon, well played to both you and my brother.' and with that he was gone with a twirl of his umbrella.