Okay, yes, I’m a computer nerd, but I could not help noticing all of the times Sherlock merely closes his laptop or opens his laptop and starts working *without logging off or on.* This is particularly annoying in Reichenbach Falls when he knows all the bad guys are after him. Let’s not even talk about John wanting to get a little of his own back.
Alright, let’s talk about that.
Check back tomorrow for the flash fanfic.
It’s Password Protected
by J. H. Watson
~ 1,800 words
“Oh, you’re back early. I estimated it’d be at least the pudding before your date claimed she had a headache.”
John Watson sighed. He counted on just one date that wasn’t ruined by his flatmate. “I thought you were working at Bart’s tonight.”
“The patient didn’t die. Thrown my entire schedule off.”
Sherlock Holmes had his back to John and hadn’t looked up from whatever he was reading on his computer screen. John figured he might as well get the worst over. “Sherlock, I’d like you to meet my date. Mary, I’d like you to meet my flatmate and colleague, Sherlock Holmes.”
The young woman said, “Pleased to meet you.”
Sherlock turned around and looked her up and down and cocked an eyebrow. He radiated disapproval.
Mary added, “Glad to see you like our products.” She gestured towards the MacBook Pro Sherlock had been working on. “Let me know if you have any problems.”
“I can help.”
“I doubt that.”
John stepped in, giving Sherlock a warning look. “Mary works at the Apple Store, Sherlock. She’s an Apple Genius.”
Sherlock made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a snigger, but definitely derisive. This was made clear by the face he pulled and the way he rolled his eyes. Mary smiled and said, “You don’t like the job title?”
Sherlock stood up and walked forward so he was looming over the far shorter woman. He replied, “It hardly takes a genius to work in tech support.”
Mary didn’t take a step back, but simply looked up and said, “Well, I didn’t choose the job title.”
“But you chose the job.”
“Does it make you feel like a genius explaining to the technologically illiterate how to charge their iPods?”
“Does it make you feel like a genius to abuse dead bodies?” Mary peered around Sherlock to look pointedly at his computer.
He stepped back and slapped his laptop closed and replied, “It’s scientific research.”
“Is that what they call it these days? I guess ‘necrophilia’ is a bit dodgy on the CV.”
John stepped in and said, “Let me just grab that coat and we’ll grab some dinner.”
Sherlock said, “Good idea. There’s nothing in the fridge except for that tongue. And I plan to dissect it tomorrow.”
“I was talking to Mary, Sherlock.”
Sherlock started to say something when his phone rang. He looked at it the screen and said, “It’s Lestrade. Come on, John. He’s got something for me.”
John tilted his head towards Mary and replied, “I’ve got reservations.”
Sherlock waved a hand as if swatting away an annoying fly and said, “Well, of course you do, John. She works in retail and thinks she’s a genius.”
“I mean dinner reservations. I’m on a date, Sherlock.”
Sherlock’s brow wrinkled as he asked, “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not going with you. I’m going to dinner…with Mary…on…a…date.”
John held Sherlock’s gaze for several moments. Sherlock’s expression turned into a pout and he said, “Fine. Don’t wait up.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Sherlock flung his scarf around his neck and stormed out of the flat. John turned to Mary and said, “Sorry about that.”
She smiled and John felt as if his blood had turned all effervescent. Mary responded, “So that’s the famous Sherlock Holmes.”
“That’s him. Let me just grab that coat.”
“How long do you think he’ll be gone?” Mary moved closer to John and smiled at him again. “Are you certain you want to go out?”
John hesitated. He’d hoped he’d get off with her, but he hadn’t expected to score this quickly, especially after Sherlock put a spanner in the works. He said, “I’ve got reservations.”
“Of course you do. Your flatmate is a socially inept, arrogant sod who doesn’t know to log out his computer before leaving it.” Mary looked towards the desk where Sherlock’s MacBook Pro sat, the little light rising and fading — like a visual version of a slow rhythmic breath to indicate it was merely sleeping. John glanced at the computer and then back at Mary. She wore a very wicked grin.
John thought of all the times Sherlock had “confiscated” his computer, hacked his password, read his emails, scanned John’s browser history, and, in general, violated his privacy. He looked at Mary and felt torn. He said, “I’ve got reservations at a romantic little Italian place.”
Mary leaned in very close. John unconsciously glanced down, getting a very clear glimpse of cleavage, as she replied, “We could order take-away and light some candles.”
“We don’t have any candles.” John was leaning slowly closer and closer, his gaze fixed on her lips.
“We could fire up that bunsen burner on the kitchen table. Or the fireplace, if it works.”
Their lips were practically touching now as John said, “It works. I don’t suppose you could fix it so I could get into his computer any time I wanted.”
“I could fix it so you…” Here her lips grazed John’s ear as she whispered, “…can do anything you want.”
John didn’t remember falling into the kiss until he surfaced a minute later and asked, “Chinese or curry?”
Sherlock came staggering into the living room, yawning, wrapped in his sheet to find John enjoying a hearty breakfast. John looked up and grinned, “Good thing no one else is here.”
“Your date left ten minutes ago and Mrs. Hudson is at the market.”
Sherlock settled himself at the table as John got up, poured a cup of coffee and added two spoonfuls of sugar. As the coffee was set before him, Sherlock said accusingly, “You moved my computer.”
John sat back down and sipped his own coffee. “We had dinner in.”
“Obviously. Chinese. She ate both fortune cookies,” Sherlock said as he booted up his computer.
A moment later Sherlock stiffened, coffee cup nearly to his lips, his eyes staring fixedly at the computer screen. John raised his eyebrows and asked, “Something interesting? Mycroft start another war? The police solve a case without you?”
John watched Sherlock’s face try on different expressions — changing faster than a teenage girl trying on outfits before going out on a date with the hottest boy in class. Finally, it chose shocked consternation.
“Someone has hacked my computer. My computer!”
At that moment the computer meowed. Sherlock stared at the machine as if it had turned into a viper. John casually took another bite of his breakfast and pretended to read the paper. Sherlock began a furious tapping at the keyboard. About a minute later the computer offered another meow.
John turned the page of the paper and asked, “Why’s it making that noise?”
The computer meowed again.
“Apparently, it means I have mail.”
Sherlock clicked something and the computer began to purr. He pulled his hands back in alarm.
John took another sip of coffee and continued to “read” the paper. “So how did the hacker crack into your computer?”
Sherlock continued to click and type, looking more alarmed with each result. “I don’t know. It would take a genius to figure out my password.”
“Really? A genius?”
Sherlock looked up and stared ahead, muttering, “Why would Mycroft—”
“Would you like a little help?” John asked as he picked up his plate to take to the kitchen.
“You?” Sherlock said derisively.
John returned to the table with a fresh cup of coffee and looked over Sherlock’s shoulder. He made a face of disbelief as he studied the screen. “And you make snide comments about my porn.”
Sherlock tugged the sheet tighter around himself. “Don’t be ridiculous. The hacker put that on my system.” He leaned forward as one image slipped onscreen. “What exactly are they doing? Is that a—?”
John reached over and clicked on iTunes. “Interesting playlists, Sherlock. Never really saw you as a Bieber kind of guy.”
“That’s not my music. Where’s my Bach?”At that moment the computer erupted in song. Sherlock released his sheet and placed his hands over his ears. “What is it?” he screamed.
John reached over again and closed iTunes as he said, “Goth.” He made a few more clicks, shook his head, looked at Sherlock and tsked.
Sherlock replied, “That’s not my browser history.” He read the screen and added, “What’s a My Little Pony?”
John said, “I think I could fix this for you.”
Sherlock waved him off and pulled up a terminal window. The computer made a farting noise. “Please. I’ve already pointed out it would take a genius…” Sherlock stopped, his hands resting just above the keyboard. He turned to look directly at John and said, “Your date. What’s—her—name.”
“Make her undo whatever she did.”
“What’s it worth to you?”
Sherlock wrapped himself in his dignity. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“No, I’m holding your computer for ransom. So what’s it worth to you?”
Sherlock held John’s gaze. Neither man blinked as time stretched thin. Finally, Sherlock asked, “What do you want?”
A small smirk flickered across John’s face before he said, “You are never to ‘borrow,’ ‘confiscate,’ or in any other way access my computer without my permission.”
“And you have to do the shopping for a month.”
“Agreed. Now call your girlfriend, ” Sherlock ordered.
“I don’t have to,” John said as he smiled and pulled Sherlock’s computer over. John started working. A couple of minutes later, he pushed the computer back to his flatmate.
Sherlock stared at it, did a few survey clicks and said, “She’s good.”
John wore a self-satisfied smirk as he said, “According to her, I’m not so bad myself.” He sipped his coffee.
“She’s not really an Apple Genius.”
“Apparently, she is. Double firsts in Computers. Doctorate from M.I.T. But if you mean is her job tech support, no. She’s only working there temporarily as part of some top secret Apple R & D project.”
“And you’re planning on seeing her.”
John gave a big smile and crossed his legs as he replied, “Oooh, yes. Lots. Got a date tonight as a matter of fact.”
A tiny smile flashed on Sherlock’s face. “Too bad she leaves for California day after tomorrow.”
“What?” John put down his newspaper.
Sherlock shrugged and gave a sad face. “What will you do for tech support then?” Sherlock glanced at John’s laptop sitting on a stack of books.
John appeared unconcerned as he replied, “Maybe I should mention, she made me root superuser on your system.”
Sherlock’s comic sad face turned to one of genuine alarm.
John added, “And she told me about the Unix command rm -rf and I will use it if provoked.”
As John folded his newspaper and stood up, he added, “You may want to put on your trousers before going shopping. List is on the counter.”
### End ###