jessamygriffith

Title: The Structural Composition of Folly
Rating: Mature
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Pairing(s): John/Sherlock
Word Count: 11,000 for the entire fic
Disclaimer: Interpretation of characters is my own. Standard disclaimers apply. Emails redacted from actual ones sent by Misha Collins. Based upon a real event.
Category: Humour, Fluff, Rom/Com ending
Betas: red_adam for Brit pick, and alltoseek for wrangling and style
Also Found Here: AO3
Summary: John convinces Sherlock to join the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen, the brainchild of Misha 'Castiel' Collins.
Can Sherlock's superior mental power rise to the insane challenges of the Hunt? How many rules can one consulting detective break? Is he in it to win it? And will John ever be the same after it's over?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Epilogue

Chapter Four - Red Flag to a Copper

From: Misha Collins <mishacollins@gishwhes.com>
Date: Monday, November 21rst, 2011

To: Jennifer Bondy <clarinetz**@gmail.com>, Christine T. Brown <cbrown**@gmail.com>, Luca Santiago <LcaSanta4*@gmail.com>, Sherlock Holmes <sherlockholmes@scienceofdeduction.co.uk>, Jolie Smith <smith***@mail.stamford.edu>, Shiobhan McKane <smckane**@gmail.com>, Katrinka van den Steene <gelatto2*@gmail.com>, Lesley N. Anderson <anders**3@gmail.com>, Jamie Coally <fak**ed@gmail.com>, Tara Lee Brooke <Tara***Brooke@gmail.com>

Subject: To GISHWHES Team #221
Reply-To: no-one-will-ever-read-this@gishwhes.com

Greetings Team #221,

Hi again,

It's been enjoyable conversing with you all over the last two days. I feel like we're quite close now...not in a I-want-to-take-you-home-to-mom kind of way, but more in a I-think-this-could-be-the-start-of-something-big-but-don't-want-to-get-my-hopes-up-so-I-will-play-hard-to-get kind of way.

Even if you had previously connected with your team, you may notice that you now have a new team member. Welcome them. They will help you. We've identified especially talented scavenger hunters-'scav ringers'-to fill out teams that have a missing team-mate

Also, if you visit the Items page on the website, you will see that item #44 has been changed. 'A woman or man completely wrapped in Christmas lights standing on a roof' has been replaced with:

'You know how cats and dogs shed? Cover someone completely in pet hair. The only thing visible is the person's eyes. Nothing but hair and eyes. You may not shave or harm any animals acquiring this item. (44 points)'

Anyone who has already submitted a photo of someone on a roof wrapped in lights will receive points. However, from this point forward, any team submitting an image of someone on a roof in Christmas lights will have 20 POINTS DEDUCTED FROM THEIR SCORE.

Happy Hunting!

-Misha

~oOo~

John brushed off the raindrops clinging to his coat as he entered New Scotland Yard. Sherlock had texted him, wanting some large printed letters on individual glossy sheets that would spell out 'GISHWHES'. It was not for one of the five challenges he had to complete on his own - Sherlock had finished the second late this morning. John hadn't personally witnessed the culmination of that one - Molly had told him about it.

~oOo~

"Hullo, Doctor Watson speaking. How can I help you?" John was just finishing up his morning shift at the surgery when the receptionist had put the call through.

"Um. John? It's Molly. Molly from Bart's?" The voice was uncertain.

"Molly! Let me guess. Sherlock?" John leaned back in his chair.

"Um, yes?" There was a giggle. "But not the usual problem. He told me to call to say it was finished, and that I'd seen it with my own eyes."

"Oh god. What did he do? Is he bringing parts of it home?"

"No, no! Nothing like that. He texted to tell me to come to the Children's Hospital. It was rather sweet, I would never have guessed it of him. He brought in about fifteen carrier bags of Lego blocks, and had the children help him put together a flag. When I got there, he'd run out of white blocks, and some of the kids were painting red blocks white. The nurses weren't best pleased, but the patients were so happy."

John's mouth twitched. He knew that Sherlock was persuasive, but he'd never suspected the charm would extend to little ones - he usually regarded them as something alien and unpredictable. Which was generally true, he thought. Perhaps he spoke their language? Although Sherlock presented a brusque exterior, John knew he was capable of great kindness. He wished he'd been there to see it - Sherlock striding around, jacket possibly smeared with small white fingerprints. Encouraging his charges, helping them assemble the pieces needed for the challenge he'd got earlier that day:

[29. The Lebanese flag made from Legos. (14 points)]

"That's.. good. Was there any problem?" John asked.

"No, no! He did ask me to tell you that the cedar tree took some doing - he assembled that part personally. He wanted me to take a picture. I'm sending it to you now."

"Great! Thank you, Molly, for all your help."

"He donated all the blocks to the Children's Hospital. He said he didn't want them, since they came from James May's Lego house and he despises 'Top Gear', but I think I know better." There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "You are lucky, John," she said wistfully.

There was a chime on his phone. [Message received.] John held the phone away from his ear and looked at the photo that had just come through. Sherlock was kneeling on the floor on one leg in front of a Lego Lebanese flag that was about seventy centimetres wide. All around were the smiling faces of his minions waving at the camera. Sherlock's hand rested on the shoulder of a solemn little boy, and a blond haired toddler had draped herself against his side, thumb in her mouth. There was indeed a white hand print on the lower portion of his suit jacket. Sherlock wasn't smiling, exactly, but the narrowness of his eyes and the way his mouth drew in told John everything. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I am lucky."

~oOo~

John sighed at the memory. From that to this, hospital to police station. John nodded to the desk sergeant. "Where?"

"D.I. Lestrade's desk," the woman replied. "Having a flaming argument, last I heard."

"Not locked up, then? That's good."

John walked to where the raised voices emanated.

"Mr. Holmes, I don' wanna do it! It's not natural!" This was from a voice like a gravel pit.

"Yeah, well, I'm not that keen to do it, either." That was D.I. Lestrade.

"For God's sake! I promise it won't be published anywhere! Jolly, you said you owed me a favour for that thing!" Sherlock's irritated tones reverberated.

"I'm not goin' anywhere near him!" John nudged open the door to see the speaker - a large burly man in his thirties with greying hair in a pony tail, a studded leather vest and a belly straining a T-shirt that proclaimed, 'Jolly's Motors - Since 1998'.

"What's all this about?" enquired John. "Sherlock, I've brought you what you asked for."

Lestrade's face was flushed. "Your boyfriend wants a photo of me holding hands with a biker. Says it's for a hunt, a scavenger hunt?"

John nodded. "That's right. Since you've given us nothing new, Sherlock's keeping busy. It's a bit of a long story."

"What, by harassing detective inspectors? I've a ton of paperwork, I don't need this!"

"And I don't need this, either," rumbled the large man. "So, if you don't mind, I've a garage to run..."

Sherlock opened his mouth but John forestalled the man's exit by holding out his hand. "Doctor John Watson. And you are?"

Sherlock flapped a hand. "John, meet Barnabas Phipps."

"Call me Jolly," said the man. A hand like a sack of muscular jelly enveloped John's smaller one. John swallowed.

"And the problem is... that you, um. Don't want to hold hands with a man?" The giant looked disgusted.

"Nah, not that! Got nothin' against that! But he's a copper." Sherlock looked furious, but John held up a hand.

"This is for item number three on the list? A leather-clad biker and a police officer holding hands?"

"Yes," hissed Sherlock.

"But Lestrade's a detective. Wouldn't it be better to have someone in uniform?"

"But, John, Lestrade is -!" "Don't wanna -!" "Thanks, John, now get them out of here -"

"Girls!" snapped John. "Calm down. You are in the middle of Scotland Yard, Sherlock - go and detect a uniformed officer, and..." He thought a moment, sizing up Jolly. "Make sure she's attractive."

Jolly straightened up. "Oh, now that's the stuff. Wouldn't mind that, so long as the missus never sees." Sherlock glared icy death at John, but left, returning a few minutes later with a tough-faced but curvy female officer. Jolly happily beamed as Sherlock took the picture and the big man left with the officer, chatting her up. John shook his head and thrust the carrier bag of printed letters at Sherlock, who opened it and pulled out the papers.

"Orange, John? Really? Oh well then." Sherlock thumbed through the printouts. "Lestrade. Sorry to have interrupted your so-important paperwork, but now I have to -"

A sharp voice finished the sentence, "Find eight police officers to hold up the signs, spelling out GISHWHES." Sherlock whirled around. Anderson was leaning against the door frame, a file tucked under his arm. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Anderson. Don't tell me you are involved in this."

The thin-faced man looked up at the ceiling, as if in thought. "Am I involved - in the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen?" He smirked. "Haven't you checked your email?"

John exchanged a glance with Lestrade. Oh hell, this was not good. Sherlock's Blackberry was in his hands, and his face twisted up as he read. "You? On Team 221? You are Lesley Anderson?"

Anderson swung a leg nonchalantly. "Got the notice this morning. I was put on two teams by accident. They assigned me, as an especially talented scavenger hunter - a 'scav ringer' - to 221. Not that I am thrilled to be on the same team as a rule-breaker, mind."

John coughed. Sherlock spat, "What do you mean, rule breaker? I haven't broken any rules!"

Anderson cleared his throat and tapped his left cheek. There was a dark patch on it. "Well, you must have simply forgotten, then. Or deleted it? All men participating in the Hunt are to leave a patch the size of an American quarter unshaven on their left cheek for the duration of the Hunt."

Lestrade and John's heads both swung to Sherlock, who was expression was between murderous and flummoxed. His face was clean-shaven. Anderson straightened up. "Well. It's a good thing I'm here to keep you on the straight and narrow, then, isn't it? Looks like you'll need all the help you can get..."

"If you think I need any 'help' you are likely to give -!"

As Sherlock's voice rose in furious protest, John caught Lestrade's eye and nodded at the door. "Coffee?" They both strolled away from the quarrel. They broke into a jog as Anderson's smug tones answered Sherlock, Lestrade rubbing his mouth to keep from laughing, and John giggling helplessly.

"Oh, it's wrong of me to laugh," gasped John. "But his face! That was..."

"Priceless," agreed the D.I., and they both snickered.

-------
Notes: Photo Challenge:
29. The Lebanese flag made from legos. (14 points)
3. A police officer and a leatherjacket clad biker holding hands (12 points)
28. GISHWHES spelled out by 8 police officers holding lettered signs. (Each sign has one letter of G. I. S. H. W. H. E. S. ) (18 points)

Rules Broken:
19. Shaving: During the term of the event, Men can shave everywhere except a quarter-sized circle on the left cheek. Women, armpits only. For both women and men, leg hair must be allowed to flourish.

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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Epilogue