"Soulmate AU . In this AU, soulmates have the other person's signature somewhere on their body, and it only fades after the two share their first kiss. London's newest crime is a gang of serial... Kissers? This gang dislikes the ideas of soulmates, and their solution is to recruit as many people as possible, and start kissing as many people as possible as well, all the while covering up or ignoring their soulmate marks. Their hopes is to make love an even playing field, but it's become a cult, and some people have been taking things too far, cutting off soulmate marks, throwing chemicals on or burning them, anything to get rid of other people's marks. Meanwhile, John's soulmate mark is little more than a jumbled scribble, and Sherlock's is on his lower back, and he's never bothered to check. "
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John looked sceptically at the text from Mike. Surely if this Holmes person was busy it wouldn't make a very good impression for him to just barge in. With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair and made his way to St Bart's. It wasn't too far away and the sooner he got there the sooner he could be disappointed again. He was yet to meet someone that was actually worth even considering living with, why would this new guy be any different?
Stepping out of the park he had ended up in, he walked to the side of the road and hailed a cab. It was starting to get late and his walk had tired him out more than he had expected. A cab pulled up and he got in, giving them the name before they pulled away and started the slow drive to St Bart's in the busy London traffic.
Once there, John paid before getting out and walking to the door. Walking through he was met with the receptionist.
"Can I help you?" She asked, looking him over.
"I'm looking for a Mr. Holmes. Mike Stamford sent me." John explained with ease.
"Okay, he's on floor -1... Science lab D." She repeated the information John already knew before nodding to the lift. He went straight to it and got in, pressing the button for floor -1. The doors closed and the lift descended down.
When they got to the right floor, they pinged open and he walked out, walking down the hall until he came to a door with the letter D written on it.
He knocked and waited, deciding it was better to be as polite as he could be. He was already interrupting... Why make it worse?
Eventually, Molly did come back, and she dutifully fetched Sherlock's phone from the morgue. Sherlock offered her a small half smile, before turning his attentions back to the slides in front of him with a frown.
Despite the fact that Molly did act like a doting puppy around him, and she was a valuable asset to him in getting him fresh bodies and access to murder victims, he couldn't help but feel that she was a nuisance. After all, despite her tendency to only half get his orders right, her biggest flaw was that she spent all too much time making obvious attempts to woo or flirt with him, when he was obviously disinterested. It sometimes got in the way of his work.
Sherlock let out a huff of frustration as his phone went off, ringing loudly. He glanced at the number, and was surprised to see it was Mike Stamford again. He ignored the call, hoping it would go away, but the silence only lasted so long before his phone pinged, this time with Mike asking what Sherlock was up to.
'In the Lab. Very busy-SH' he responded.
Meanwhile, Mike was planning to bring his two friends together. Now that he knew that both were looking for a flat, he could set the two up, and he would have both his friends living in London!
He quickly got out his phone and texted John.
'Bloke's name is Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. He's currently at St. Bart's, working on some science thing. -1 floor, science lab D. He's looking for a flatmate. If anyone asks, just tell 'em Mike sent you along to speak to Sherlock. They'll let you in, and I'll meet up later to see how it went!'
Dr John Watson frowned as he looked down at his wrist. He knew the mark was his soulmates signature... But he couldn't make head nor tail of it. It just looked like a messy scribble. He let out a sigh and shook his head before pulling down his sleeve to cover it again. He had more pressing things to find... Like somewhere to live in London. It seemed extremely difficult to find someone he got on with. Since arriving in London he had met with quite a few people in hopes they might be his room mate but none seemed to click with him.
He took a seat, opening a newspaper and staring down at the different listings, scrutinising each one before inevitably moving onto the next. He ran a hand through his hair before giving up. Picking up his walking stick he paid for the coffee and exited the coffee shop. It was time for a walk he decided.
The cool London air made him pull his jacket a little tighter around himself as he walked, making his way towards Hyde Park. It was one of his favourite places to go... there was a lot of open space and he could just wonder around without worrying about having to pay much attention to where he was going. There were also cafe's and places to stop if he decided he needed something to drink or his leg started to play up on him again.
Walking through one of the parks entrances, he began his trail, heading towards the large lake, he walked around it once before following a trail off and away from it. He finally stopped when he arrived at a little patch of trees. Settling under one, he closed his eyes, letting himself drift off for a few moments.
He was woken by his phone ringing. With a groan he answered, without even a hello the man started.
"I think I've found you a roommate." the males voice said, it took John a few moments to work out what was going on.
"What do you mean?" He replied groggily.
"You're looking for a roommate... No? I think I've found you one. He's a little... Different." The man said, clearly hiding something, but John decided not to press.
"That sounds good, can you arrange a meeting?" He asked.
"Course, I'll text you the details when it's sorted." The voice said before the call died. John blinked, looking at his phone and frowning before he shook his head. Shoving his phone back into his pocket he carefully pulled himself back to his feet and set off on his walk again.
Sherlock looked up from his cell phone, only having partially been listening to Mike Stamford blather on about who knows what, while he had been writing the text that was now on its way to Detective Inspector Lestrade.
'The lack of a soul mark on either victim doesn't mean anything-SH'
"I'm sorry, what?" Sherlock asked, as his fingers tapped along the screen of his phone, typing out yet another text.
'It was a murder. Not a suicide-SH'
Mike just gave a halfhearted chuckle. He knew how Sherlock could get,so he repeated the question.
"So how is the search for a flatmate going?"
Sherlock blinked slowly, giving his colleague a pointed stare.
"Nobody wants me as a flatmate, Mike"
Mike was immune to the stare, and just offered a good-natured laugh.
"You'll find someone. Hell, maybe you won't find a flatmate, maybe you'll find your soulmate and move in with them!" He joked, clasping a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and letting out a hearty chuckle.
Sherlock, on the other hand, looked almost disgusted with the notion.
"The concept of 'Soulmates' is a pointless and nonsensical idea. That two people are seemingly destined to be together through what? god? some higher power? Rubbish! It's mankind's own matchmaking lottery. It's all sentiment, and sentiment is-"
Mike cut Sherlock off with a pat to the back "A chemical defect. Yeah yeah. I know your attitude about soul marks and soulmates. It was a joke, mate"
Sherlock let out a small huff, and then fired another text to Lestrade. Glancing at the time, he immediately stood up from his chair and pulled his coat on.
"I hate to cut our chat short, but I really must be going" He said, offering a false smile that Mike easily saw through.
"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, wondering just where the detective was running off to that was so important he would just leave in the middle of the conversation. Surely the talk of soulmates hadn't been that traumatizing to the consulting detective...
"I'm going to go catch a murderer!" Sherlock exclaimed, eyes alight with excitement.
Several hours later found him in a lab in the morgue, eyeing various slides on a microscope, and Molly fussing about him like she always did. This time, she seemed to leave him alone quicker than usual, and he went to work. After some time, he was able to identify some material, but when he went to send another text to Lestrade, he couldn't seem to find it. "Must have left it with the riding crop..." He muttered, before focusing back on the task at hand. He could finish this and when molly came back, he could have her grab the phone, and his riding crop...
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