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And So It Began	By : Mrs_M Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2625 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own (BBC) Sherlock, nor the characters and content therein. I do not profit from this work.

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9, September
And so it began, in the late hours of that night and into the following morning. Sherlock Holmes’ flirtation training.
It was slow work to begin with, John found that he couldn’t really explain the reasons behind the actions without bringing emotions into discussion.
“Emotions aren’t something I have a lot of experience with, John” Sherlock would say.
And the more he thought about it the more he believed the detective was telling the truth. His friend was never one for sentiment, it had been what eventually led to Irene’s downfall in the first place. For a long time John had thought that Sherlock’s ‘anti-emotion’ policy was all a big ruse, a sort-of denial to prevent him from getting too involved with cases and mucking them up. But maybe that wasn’t the case after all, and if he had to train Sherlock in emotions too it was going to take all bloody year. Or longer…
By the time the sun rose that morning they had long since abandoned their original discussion of flirting via mobile phone and gone all the way back to the basics. Sherlock was a great student, John supposed it was due to his insatiable need to learn everything he could in hopes it would help with a case. Of course, if Sherlock decided it was no longer necessary he would delete everything John told him to make room for other information and all of this would be for nothing, but John tried not to dwell on that.
“So,” Sherlock stated “flirting, in itself doesn’t necessarily lead to physical or romantic relationships. You can flirt with a stranger if you are attempting to get something you want from them but you wouldn’t flirt with someone that you know personally for the same reasons because it’s wrong to lead someone on without hope of amorous returns?”
“Yes,” John yawned. “You know, I can’t believe you don’t know this, really you do it to Molly all the time.”
“Do what?” the detective looked a little stunned.
“Oh, you know, you give her the big blue eyes and the pouty lips then you say something nice to her with the intent of making her do whatever you need without a question.”
“That’s flirting?” The man asked skeptically. “Well I wish we had started with an example it would have saved us a lot of time. Do try to consider that in the future.”
John huffed a sigh, his patience long forgotten and rubbed his face. He snuck a brief glance at the clock and thanked his stars that it was his day off. How he had managed to get a day off on a Monday he would never know.
Being a doctor didn’t give one much time to rest, really. Shifts work required that he be available all days of the week, all hours of the day. He had worked clinic duty on birthdays and holidays, on weekends and special occasions. Sometimes he managed to wiggle his way out of working when he would rather not, and he had an endless supply of personal days to take for himself but in general he worked a lot. Someone had to pay the rent on the flat and there was no guarantee that a case would come along that Sherlock deemed interesting enough to work.
John didn’t much mind all the hours, the military didn’t give him days off either. He certainly didn’t become a civilian just because it was a holiday. He had been trained to work in all conditions and continued that long after he got home. But his usual day off was Sunday so a Monday meant he could do errands and rest while everyone else was at work. There was something so much better about being home while everyone else went about their dreary Monday lives. The lines at the bank would be short, the market would be empty and the park would be blissfully quiet. With all thoughts of Monday rest on his mind John pulled his knees toward himself and prepared to stand.
“Wait John,” Sherlock commanded, grabbing his trouser leg to keep him down. “I have more questions.”
“Look, Sherlock I know you don’t need to sleep like a normal person but I worked a twelve hour shift and came home to this mess and now I’m tired. I’ve been up for nearly 24 hours and if I try for any more I will pass out.”
“Don’t be silly, hallucinations don’t start until 36 hours. You won’t reach total shut down until at least 60 hours.” The detective stated in his matter-of-fact tone.
“All the facts aside I am still knackered and I am going to bed.” He didn’t have enough in him to fight but he took on his best authoritative voice.
“How am I supposed to continue my research when the internet is proving to be a convoluted mish-mash of personal opinion? There’s no empirical data, no first had sources of purely scientific events…honestly, John I’m starting to think you’re leading me down a dirty path.”
“hmmm, what?” John replied. He’d long since stopped listening to Sherlock, instead just watching the mouth move while his mind wandered. He began to look over the detective’s face with more care than he had in a while. No matter his orientation John had to admit that Sherlock had a very nice face. The long features and high cheekbones which often looked strange on other people were balanced by the mop of curly brown hair. Sharp blue eyes, were they blue? In the light of the fire and the early morning sun rise they looked green, or maybe yellow or gray, he couldn’t be sure. Even as the man spoke the eyes surveyed everything, sharp and precise, cataloguing everything they saw. His cheek bones were high and defined, his lips an exaggerated bow, both wide and soft without being overtly feminine. And the skin, how had John really never seen the skin? Pale and flawless, a porcelain which would normally mean a diligent dermatological regiment but that was likely impossible. As far as the doctor could tell there wasn’t a freckle or mole on the whole of his face. On any other person these features might appear alien, a caricature drawing of a long faced man but on Sherlock this face seemed to suit him.
“I’m sorry, Sherlock what were you saying I was totally gone for a second” he sighed, rubbing his face into his hands again.
“No true data, John,” he cried “it’s all secondary sources and personal bias. I can’t begin to attempt an experiment of this nature without more stable information.”
“An experiment?” John balked. How would Sherlock possibly be able to form an experiment around flirtation and social interaction? He didn’t even have basic social skills.
“Yes, keep up!” the younger man sighed. “The hypothesis is simple: flirtation or sexually specific attention (whether real or implied) will yield positive results when attempting to garner praise, attention or personal favors.”
John’s mind reeled at the thought of it. What his friend had just said was essentially a fact of life, something everyone knew but few had mastered. Given Sherlock’s ability to master anything he attempted John knew he could be aiding in creating an even bigger monster of a man but he also knew he wouldn’t try to stop it. There were only 2 possible results and both would be intriguing.
ONE: Sherlock would master the art of flirtation and emotional subterfuge thus ensuring his ability to get whatever he wanted from the right person at the right time. This outcome might bring disaster but it would save them a lot of trouble whenever the detective’s big mouth got in the way.
TWO: Sherlock would fail in his attempt to learn because he lacked the empathy necessary to truly pursue his goal. If this were the case then the arrogant bastard might just learn a little bit of humility and that would only mean good things for everyone.
“Fine, fine” John yawned again, the last of his energy fizzling out. “Experiment away, detective”
“I’ll need your assistance on this one, John.” Sherlock said “I’ll need a better source of information and so far you’re the only person I know who has any practice in this arena.”
“Fine, yes whatever you want.” John was fading fast. He pushed himself to his feet and forced himself up the stairs as quickly as possible. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”
“Goodnight, John.”
It was far too late for the doctor to notice the smirk playing around the corners of Sherlock’s mouth. He was already face down on a pillow, consciousness far behind him.
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And So It Began