So, uh, I'm not sure I'm ever going to finish this (or at least any time soon) and I know that Molly wanted to see this, so....
Basically this is a Sherlock AU where the characters all come together because of a UK version of The Bachelor. Most of what I've written was set up and getting things in order to start going into the reason Sherlock is a contestant in drag going under the assumed name Lestrade. That was about when my finals happened and so I got sidetracked and then the train derailed.
I might someday go through, get this finished, edited, and Britpicked, and so forth. I wouldn't say I've given up on this fic, I just you know am not sure when I'll get back to it since I haven't written on it in about a month or thereabouts.
I. The television went on about it for weeks. Sign yourself or a friend up for the The Bachelor UK. John Watson saw enough of the ads that he could tune them out without even trying. However, when a mysterious envelope appeared in his post, he wished he paid more attention. “I thought it could be fun,” Mike defended. The two of them had been in Afghanistan together as military doctors. “You were talking about how you needed to get out and see more people, so…uh…why not on a set?” John set the letter down on the café table, careful not to get any food on it. “It says they have about twenty candidates besides me. They want me to audition on Tuesday.” “Tuesday is your day off.” Mike offered an encouraging smile. “What’s the worst that could happen? Don’t know until you try, right?” John sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this Richard Brook character. Have you? It looks like a hoax.” “He’s gone into working on reality programs. He’s been on some children’s programs,” Mike said. “He worked on I’m a Celebrity, Get Me out of Here for a few years now. Guess he figures he can take a bigger role with copying The Bachelor.” “Have you ever seen it?” John finished off his drink. “A couple times. It’s pretty trashy, but you get to see the world and maybe get lucky.” Mike leaned back in his seat. “Just go see what happens at the audition?” For the next few days, John considered not going. He almost called and cancelled the appointment twice, but in the end, he entered the casting room when called that Tuesday. A man barely taller than John with dark hair and dark eyes sat flanked by someone who was clearly some kind of body guard or security figure and a mousey woman who sat with a clipboard, ready to take dictation. None of them looked like a Richard Brook. “I’m Richard Brook. This is Sebastian and this is Molly,” the man with the dark features said. Sebastian’s face never changed. Molly managed a police and welcoming smile. “Which one are you?” “Uh…John Watson,” John answered. He sat when Richard motioned him toward the chair across from them at the table. “Retired army captain,” Molly said in a discreet voice, “medical.” “Yes,” John said. After he confirmed the statement, he wondered if he should have said anything. “Of course,” Richard said, his voice rising in tone as though John could be an exciting prospect. “Of course. So, Dr. Watson – Captain Watson?” “Doctor.” “Yes. Dr. Watson, we need to go over a few things. Make sure this form is accurate since it was submitted by your friend.” Richard looked at his phone and scrolled down it. “Yes. You were married once?” There was a pause. John leaned back in his seat. “Yes.” “Why did it end?” There was another long pause. “It is my business you know,” Richard muddled. “I need to set up a story. That’s what all reality television is, yeah? Oh, the widowed captain of a medical corps wants to fall in love again, which wonderful girl will it be? People will eat that up.” His eyes held John’s gaze. “I mean, you knew that right? You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want to do this.” “I suppose you’ll research it anyway whether I tell you or not if I’m picked?” John asked. Richard nodded. “Of course. We have to verify such things. Right, Molly?” Molly nodded. “Yes. Since your friends submitted your form for you, we can’t prefer a background check, so,” she pushed some papers over to John, “you’ll have to fill these out and sign them before we really can make a decision.” “You can wait until the end of the interview. No rush,” Richard added. “So, what was she like, your wife?” John crossed his legs. He deliberated. He could leave now. He did not have to tell them anything. Although, if he left, what was there waiting for him? Even if he went through with this and it failed, he could still say he saw a little more of the world than he already has and he could use the money. “Mary was…intelligent, beautiful, and straight-forward.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger in thought. “We got married years ago. She died a few months before I enlisted.” He took a breath. There was a long pause and then quietly, Richard asked, “How?” “Does it matter?” John looked at him. “No, but it would be a key component of your narrative.” Richard leaned forward. “You could tell us now in your own words or we could find out later?” John considered this. It had been years since, but it did still hurt. “She was in a coma from eclampsia. She didn’t wake up.” John could almost see Richard’s brain processing the information. “If I were to go on the show, I wouldn’t have to go into detail, right?” “That is what contract negotiations are for,” Richard said. “Have you dated since?” “A few times,” John answered. “Nothing too serious.” He could see Molly writing notes on her clipboard. “Alright.” Richard considered. “Tell you what, you sign that paper, we’ll look into you, and if you pass this round, we’ll see you at another interview, all right?” John took up the paper and read it over carefully. He then filled it out and slid it back across the table to Molly. “Good luck, Dr. Watson,” Richard said before John left the casting room. John managed to find an agent through his sister Harry. The contract was basic, standard according to his agent. He managed to secure a deal not to have to discuss in detail his wife’s death or mention loss of child on national television if he did not wish to. He gambled that the show would pick him anyway as Harry thought the might. She told him that he was the type of bachelor people would tune in to watch, but to be careful because the women who would be paired with him would make up for his lack of willingness to be melodramatic. The production provided John with a new suit he would not keep. He would greet eighteen women and then meet with them before sending three home that first night. The host of the show was Sally Donovan. John had a feeling as a citizen who watched television he should know who she was, but he honestly could not place where he saw her last. She was direct and pretty. The women were lovely and for now classy. Sarah and Jo stood out after the first half of women to John. The tenth woman, however, was unlike any of the others. Her dark hair was an obvious but good dye job that clashed with her ginger eyebrows. Her dress and makeup were understated but highlighted her eyes that held John’s attention. This woman was intelligent and perhaps dangerous. John watched her look him over before she took his hand in a greeting. “Good evening,” he offered. The woman in heels towered over him, but it was intriguing. “I’m John Watson.” “I’m Lestrade,” the woman said. “No first name?” John could feel her watching him intently. “For now,” Lestrade answered. Then she slipped away to the house. Eight women later, everyone gathered in the house hopefully to make good TV. John found himself speed dating through the women. Women pulled him towards them and away from others. He felt a bit like a hot potato that everyone wanted by the time the music ended. Eventually, he managed to get a moment to breathe. He shifted his weight, acutely aware of the cameras hovering, while trying to pretend he was alone. Someone pressed a dressed to his hand. It was cold and welcomed. “Afghanistan or Iraq?” John grasped the drink, realizing it was water, which now was welcomed rather than another drink of something alcoholic. “Uh…excuse me?” “I heard you were in the army,” Lestrade said before adding in a whisper, “and you like to stand at attention when you’re trying to ignore the cameras.” John looked at her. “Right. It was Afghanistan. Thanks for the water. How are you doing?” “Bored,” she admitted and then paused. “Not with you. Small talk with a beautician only carries so far.” John snorted. “Yeah. I can imagine.” He sipped his water. “So what do you do?” “I,” Lestrade considered, “am in law enforcement.” “Yeah? Sure you should be on national television?” John asked. He leaned on the railing to the patio. “Sometimes I wonder,” Lestrade said, “but my brother thought it would be good for me.” John nodded. “My sister thought this would be good for me too.” John felt a hand at his back and then looked behind him. It was one of the other women, offering something more alcoholic and a nervous smile. “Two children and a dog. She’s only here for the money,” Lestrade whispered in John’s ear and then she slipped away back into the house. John looked at the girl in front of him and took the drink she offered. He tilted his head and offered a smile. He had no idea if Lestrade’s accusations about her were correct. Sarah got the first impression rose at the ceremony only because John was not certain if he wanted to award Lestrade’s comment about two kids and a dog, neither of which was eliminated that night. The three John sent home were not his type and he did not wish to string them along. The hurt in one of their eyes did not sit well with him. The house was large and more than he could have imagined when Molly walked him through some things earlier. His room in the house overlooked the backyard where there was a small garden. It was late and tomorrow he would have a first date with someone. Just as John was about to turn away from the window and head to bed, he paused and peered out into the night one last time. He thought he saw someone in the garden, but the more he stared, the more everything seemed to become even more still and quiet. He waited a long time and then let out a small breath. He had to get up early tomorrow. He needed to head to bed. II. Sarah got the first date card. The sunrise was almost finished when John and Sarah sat in the back of a production vehicle. Richard, Molly, and Sebastian sat on the bench seat across from them. The cameras mounted in the car kept the three from the production team out of view of the shot. “So…we’re going to take you to Cornwall. Let you explore a few places like the Mên-an-Tol,” Richard looked over the notes he had on his phone and double-checked them with Molly’s papers. “You’ll walk around, enjoy the scenery, and so forth. Remember,” he looked up and met Sarah’s gaze then John’s gaze, “this is just as much about showing off Britain as it is about the story line.” John nodded. “But it’s still a real date, right?” “Of course, of course,” Richard’s voice took on an almost singsong quality, “a date with a purpose.” Sarah’s lips made a thin line when Richard’s voice changed. John crossed and then uncrossed his legs. The voice sounded light, but there was an edge to it. John touched her hand in assurance and she smiled slightly. “Perfect,” Richard said. “Just act natural, but remember it’s a story. Don’t be boring. Or at least try to make your interesting bits easy to edit together.” He moved his hand along to emphasize the point. “And try not to talk about the cameras or to the cameras,” Molly added, “please.” Sebastian said nothing, but he seemed to be sitting casually yet at the ready. John hoped no one would become violent. He was not certain if he wanted to see Sebastian in action. The rest of the drive was small talk between John and Sarah, trying to pretend no one was in the car with them. When they got out, there was set up and then it was up to John and Sarah to make a convincing date. At first, John felt very aware of the cameras, but he found if he watched Sarah or the scenery away from the cameras, it helped. Sarah was intelligent and the more he talked to her, the more he could tell that she would not be an easy girl and that had they met genuinely somehow on the street, he might have tried to chat her up at least. The production went to various locations around Cornwall. It was nearing sunset when Molly approached with a picnic basket. She handed it to John carefully. “Mr. Brook would like if you would both share something while having lunch. He would like it to be something revealing and or thoughtful. Things you don’t already know about each other.” She stepped back. “Any questions?” “Did he give a hint what he doesn’t want us to reveal?” Sarah asked. Molly considered. “Uh…just remember, it’s a story. Layers. Like he talks about.” “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” John said. He gave Sara a smile. “Maybe not time to talk about that seventh toe?” Sarah laughed a little. “Yeah.” She fell in step with John as they set up the picnic in a designated area where the light would work well for the camera angles. Sarah sat carefully and John settled down onto the blanket. “Looks like ham and cheese,” he said as he pulled out some sandwiches. “Beans and crisps too.” Sarah seemed a little more than nervous and trying not to look like she was not debating what to reveal to him. The eating was slow to make the shooting work. Sarah discreetly picked the cheese out of her sandwich and hid it in its wrappings. “You said you were a doctor. What kind?” “Surgeon,” John answered. “I didn’t always want to be one, but the more I got into science, the more I found my way.” He concentrated on her. It was not a hard task. She was pretty without needing a lot of assistance. His eyes followed the curve of her chin and then he said, “Well, when I was in school. I had a bit of a rebellious phase.” “Really? Stay up late and not turn in your school work?” Sarah smirked a little. John shook his head. “A lot of shouting and breaking rules. I once got on a train, went to Scotland, got horribly lost, didn’t tell anyone, and that got a lot of it out of my system once I got home.” “I’d think so.” Sarah drank her water as an excuse not to say anything. Once it was gone, she said, “I wasn’t a rebel. The most trouble I ever got into was normal things.” There was another pause. “The worst thing I ever did was a prank with some other girls. We put some paint on our toes and tried on shoes. We didn’t get caught.” “I bet people are checking on their shoes from back then now,” John said. The production could edit that comment out later. “Maybe I should check my own shoes.” “Maybe.” Sarah relaxed. “I’m sure my sister is looking to make sure I’ve not done that to her shoes.” “I’ve got a sister. I know what it’s like.” John said and looked up. Sally approached them. She placed a plate down between them on the basket. “When you’re ready, John.” “Right. Thanks,” John said. He looked at Sarah. “I don’t know if they explained it to all the girls or not, but if you’re on a solo date, you can get a rose early or get sent home early.” “Yeah, they mentioned that,” Sarah answered. Her eyes followed the stem of the rose down and along the angle of his thumb and hand. Then her eyes met his gaze. John ran his thumb up along the stem a little, trying to draw it out as he figured Richard might want it. Then he licked his lips. “Today was fun. Don’t you think? And, I think that things are promising, so will you take this from me? It’s yours.” Sarah carefully took the rose from him, letting her fingers brush his hand. “Of course.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. John leaned in and when Sarah’s head turned, he kissed her cheek as well. “I’m glad you were first.” Sarah moved closer so they could finish eating while watching the ends of the sunset. “Me too.” When the sun set, everyone packed back up and the group journeyed back to the production’s manor. Unlike the American production of The Bachelor where the bachelor was in another residence from the contestants, the British version allowed John to stay in the same place as his contestants and sported cameras that could spy on rooms and hallways, except the bathrooms, when the crew was asleep. John lay quietly in the dark front room watching the sky from skylights in the ceiling. He could not sleep. He was trying to figure out how to pace himself with things he might have to reveal about himself. He doubted it would be acceptable to tell each woman the same thing, working in rounds until everyone had heard the same things in his own words. Many people were counting on him to make for some good television so the show could survive to a second series and beyond. He knew that the women also were part of the equation, probably the bigger part of it, but he knew he had to try. He heard a noise and sat up. Lestrade stood in the doorway to the front room. She straightened her posture and turned to leave. “Wait,” John whispered and got to his feet. “No.” Lestrade stopped moving but did not look at him. “If you want to talk to me, take me on a proper date.” “What? Well, there’s a group date coming up.” He had not discussed anything about it with the production team yet. “We need to talk, but not here, not now,” Lestrade said. “Are you being mysterious on purpose?” John stayed where he stood. “That’s what people want, don’t they?” Lestrade looked at him then. “The editors piece parts of this scene together, make it look like something it’s not, but the viewers feel manufactured suspense.” “I guess….” John ran a hand through his hair. “Well, if you’re on the group date, I look forward to seeing you when we can talk. I should probably head back to my room.” Lestrade nodded and headed off into the shadows of the darkened hallway towards the staircase, which would lead to the women’s rooms. John moved in the opposite direction where his room was. III.
