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Wild and Intuitive

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         Sherlock Holmes had no idea how his friends had talked him into this ridiculous idea. Him, John, Molly, and Mary had graduated a few weeks ago and Graham, who graduated last year, decided to take them on a roadtrip in his new car to celebrate. He could hear the car horn honking as he shoved his pillow over his head. “Sherlock!” Mummy exclaimed as she walked into his room, “Your friends are here and you’re not even out of bed yet!”

         “Okay fine,” he rubbed his eyes and sat up, “tell them I’ll be down in a minute.” Mrs. Holmes sighed as she left the room. He quickly grabbed a duffel bag and proceeded to shove all of his books and experiments in it. He pulled on a pair of shoes and ran out the door to see Gavin’s van waiting for him. His mother was standing near the car.

         “Sherlock Holmes! Are you-”

         “Yes. Goodbye.” He got in the car and closed the door before she could finish. “Alright,” he sighed, “let's get this thing over with.”

         “Are you in your pajamas?” John questioned angrily from next to him. Molly and Gaff groaned, Mary just laughed.

         “Hello dear, I’ve missed you too,” he responded to his boyfriend with a sarcastic smile.

         “Alright, go inside and change.” George said from behind the steering wheel.

         “Come on Geoff, I don’t want to I’m perfectly comfortable in my pajamas.”

         “It’s Greg!” everyone except Sherlock yelled simultaneously.

         “And we’re already off schedule.” Molly informed them.

         “Aw, you’ve made a schedule, have you sweetie?” Mary stroked her girlfriend’s cheek teasingly.

         “Yes!” She huffed as Mary giggled.

         “Well, we’ve still got to wait.” said Greg.

         “Wait for who?” inquired Sherlock.

         “John! You were supposed to tell him!” Mary snapped.

          “Tell me what? Who the hell are we waiting for?” Sherlock continued to press for information until a familiar figure opened the door and plopped down in the passenger seat. “No. No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

         “Hello, brother dear.” Mycroft smiled from next to Greg.


         “Told you he'd react well.” Molly snarked.

         “Come on Sherlock, he's my boyfriend, I have to bring him!” Greg looked back at him pleadingly. Sherlock snarled and fell into John’s chest, which Greg chose to interpret as an admission of defeat. “Okay, let's get moving.” Greg pulled out of the driveway as Mrs. Holmes waved goodbye from outside. Mycroft waved back, Sherlock curled further into John.

         “I made a mix.” Molly announced after a few minutes of driving, she pulled out a CD. Sherlock groaned.

         “We made a mix,” Greg corrected, “I helped.” He took the disc from Molly and put it into the CD player.

         “It is completely unfair that my brother is here.” They all ignored Sherlock’s statement.

         “Well my brother is here too, guess it's unfair to both of us.” Mycroft countered.

         “It's fair for me and John, we got our boyfriends to come along!”

         “Yup.” John smiled, ruffling Sherlock’s curls.


         “Pull over, I have to use the bathroom.” Molly said after hours of listening to her dreadful mix.

          “Sherlock, maybe you should change into your clothes now.” Said John.

         “I can't.”

         “Why not?”

         “Oh don't tell me you… Again, Sherlock?!” Mycroft shook his head.

         “What's he talking about,” John questioned, “did you not pack clothes?” Sherlock remained silent. Molly grabbed his bag and began rifling through it.

         “Microscope, beakers, journals, and textbooks. That's all there is!”

         “Sherlock.” John stared at him. “Did you bring pants?” Sherlock looked down. “Sherlock Holmes. Did. You. Bring. Pants.”

         “No.” He continued to look at the floor. Mary laughed, everyone else groaned.

         “Alright,” John sighed, “you'll have to borrow some of my clothes.” He grabbed his bag and pulled out a pair of cargo pants, his rugby shirt, and a pair of boxers. He shoved them into his boyfriend's hands. “Okay, you go change, the rest of us will use the toilet and buy some snacks.”

         Sherlock trudged to the toilet of the truck stop and picked out a reasonably clean stall. He began to change into his boyfriend's clothes (perhaps allowing John's pants to linger in his hands for a bit longer than he'd like to admit). He exited and made his way to the shop, grabbing a pack of cigarettes on his way to the counter where Greg was standing. “Get these for me, will you?” He threw the box on the counter.

         “Yeah, alright.” Greg handed the woman working the register his credit card. “Oi! The rest of you lot better hurry and bring your stuff up here quick or I’m not paying for it! You each get one thing, I'm not rich!” Molly was holding a packet of liquorice, Mary had a bag of crisps, John had a bottle of soda, and Mycroft walked up with an armful of snacks. They dropped their stuff on the counter.

         “Hey, how come that fatty gets so much stuff?” Sherlock glared.

         “Because I love him,” Greg smiled, planting a kiss on his boyfriend's forehead.


         “All right! First night of the road trip! You guys know where we're going?” Greg turned to face his friends.

         “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

         “I think we should reconsider. I mean I don't want to go, Sherlock doesn't want to go, and I'm sure Molly doesn't want to go, right Molly?” Mycroft's face became panicked.

         “Yeah, I'm sure there's something else we could do-” Molly’s face lit up with fear.

          “No getting out of it,” John grinned, “we’re going to a club. “

          “With dancing, and music, and…” Mary stared at them tormentingly, “People!” They were terrified.

          “Please no!” Mycroft turned to Greg. “Honey, don’t this to me!” Greg, John, and Mary cackled evilly.


         They walked into the dark room lit up with strobe lights and filled with drunk people groping each other. Sherlock had no idea how this could be considered fun. Once their partners had gone to ‘dance’ (Sherlock had no idea how that could be called dancing, they were simply jumping around with a frankly jealousy inducing closeness to other people), Mycroft turned to the others. “We need to stick together, it is much less improbable that we will be able to navigate this alcohol filled sex den on our own.”

        “Agreed. If we don't they shall most likely find our heavily drugged and violated bodies lying dead in an alley.”

        “You two have a really interesting way of thinking.”

         “We know,” Sherlock responded.