Another World | SherlockxReader Fanfic

Chapter Nine: The Cure for Nausea is Chaos

Warnings: Gross stuff...puke, blood, human waste, swearing

"So you're basically the cleanup guy after a crime?"

Jeremy nodded. "Yup. Dirty work, but someone has to do it. May as well be someone who doesn't mind the mess."

"Wow," I said. "So any leftover...body parts. You clean those up?"

"Yeah, but I have to put them into the morgue so they can be accounted for. Most of the time I just clean blood, bodily fluids, or any other possibly infectious material." He recited it as if it was off a list he was given.

"Huh. Wait, so what's the grossest thing you've ever had to clean up?"

"That'd probably be the time where there was this dude who shat himself, threw up, and then was gutted."

I gagged. "No way that actually happened. That's too...disgusting. How could someone gut a person who just ew, ew, ew."

Jeremy chuckled. "Yeah, that's the usual reaction."

Jeremy and I were on a date at a Grapevine Garden (which is apparently this world's equivalent of an Olive Garden). I was enjoying myself, to be honest, minus the whole shit-puke-gutting story.

"Your food, miss," The waitress serving us set down a large plate full of amazing looking pasta. After the talk on guts covered in human excrement and bodily fluids, however, my appetite had diminished A LOT.

Jeremy received his plate with linguini pasta with a side of shrimp, but it really looked like a plate full of shrimp with a side of noodles. He immediately dug in. I force fed myself as I listened to Jeremy ramble on about his new dog. I liked Jeremy, I really did. But right now I just wanted to leave because of nausea accumulating in my stomach. It was my own fault, really. I asked about the grotesque-ness of my boyfriend's(?) job.

Wait, were we a couple? It was our fifth date, but we never really made it official...

Just as I was about to ask him, my phone buzzed violently. I excused myself as I pulled it out to see I'd missed six texts from Sherlock as well as a call. That was strange. Sherlock never called.

World's Best Consulting Ass: Come quick. Urgent case

World's Best Consulting Ass: Involves JM

World's Best Consulting Ass: I texted Jerry as well so you can leave

World's Best Consulting Ass: If you don't leave now, I'll just meet you there. Jerry should know where it is.

World's Best Consulting Ass: (Y/N)

World's Best Consulting Ass: Fine, I'll come and get you

I rolled my eyes.

Me: First of all, it's Jeremy. Secondly, I wasn't ignoring you. The reception here is shit. And do NOT come get me

I explained my situation to Jeremy, who promptly checked his phone to smile and say he'd gotten a text from Sherlock. We waver the waiter over to pay when a commotion started from the entrance.

"Sir, I cannot allow you to just walk in here unannounced and sit at a table!" A man with a bushy mustache and a hard expression said.

"Fine," a familiar baritone voice replied. "I'll be in and out. Won't order or anything. Unless you'd like your wife to know about your relationship with the wine supplier?"

Guessing that the person who caused the disruption was like guessing that the sun rose in the East. Why, oh why, did he have to come now, dear God? Couldn't you have, you know, TOLD HIM TO GO AWAY?

No? Very well then.

I apologized briefly to Jeremy, stood, and then tromped over to the argument. Neither of them had noticed me yet. I could practically feel the anger radiating off the bushy-mustached guy. Sherlock was going to get punched, if not by this dude then definitely by me.

Sherlock looked over and smiled with no teeth. I sent a glare that hopefully sent the message that I was not currently a happy camper. The bushy mustache dude shared my expression

"I apologize for my...friend," I said to the bushy mustacheington III. "He can be a bit difficult, to say the least. I'll get him out of your hair."

I clutched onto Sherlock's arm like he was the last chocolate bar in a zombie apocalypse and dragged him out onto the street. It wasn't hard since he weighed about the equivalent of a toddler.

"If you ever interrupt my date again, Sherlock, I swear to every deity that has ever existed that I will make you pray to each one of them for mercy." I stared straight into Sherlock's indescribably colored eyes, inches away from his face. "Got it?"

The curly haired detective gulped, nodding slightly. "Although you look slightly nauseated. Did you and Jerry discuss careers?"

I released my grasp on his arm and raised my hand, debating whether or not I should slap him or go for the groin. Instead, I scowled and folded my arms. Sherlock smirked and went to get a cab.

"What's the case, then?" I said once we were on our way to the scene. "You mentioned JM?"

Sherlock sighed. "It's a repeat."

I paused, soaking in the information he'd just given me. "You mean--"

"Someone is repeating everything that he did. Just different."

Another pause. "So it's the pips, then? Bombs with mysteries intertwined?"

"Yes. Scotland got the bomb call this morning. Found a copy of Dante's Inferno in Mrs. Hudson's tea cupboard."

Dante's Inferno? Wasn't it Fairy Tales last time? My mind raced, searching for answers to problems that didn't exist all the way.

I rubbed my earlobe. "So pips. Bombers. Do they have the mystery for you yet?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I'll figure it out."

I nodded, knowing that was the closest I would get to an answer. Damn Sherlock and his handsome cryptidness.

"And what about the culprit? Any idea who it could be?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, before looking right at me, a layer of stoic over cold fear. "I have no idea."

And if Sherlock didn't know, then the world must be ending.

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A/N: This took FOREVER and it feels...weird. Maybe it isn't, but it feels like it.

Also, this is coming from 10 thousand feet in the SKY!! WOWIE.

Anywho, hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!!

--Kris

P.S. Sherlock221BENNEDICT I uploaded now. Happy? ;)