TW//: SWEARING, literally just swearing.

SHERLOCK: S1, E1, 18:03-21:02
— BLOOPERS
(not the actual bloopers)

SCOTT AND OWEN

_______

"Camera rolling?" The brunette asked, his orange eyes locked on the cyanette next to him who was fiddling with a video camera that was precariously placed on the edge of a central console's armrest.

"Hope so." The cyanette responded gruffly, his Scottish accent almost making his words unintelligible to the brunette's ears. He sighed softly as he pulled away. He stared intensely at the camera for a few moments, as if he was in a staring contest with an inanimate object, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"We'll just hope it's on." The cyanette said more clearly to not have his accent drowning his words, leaning back in the car seat while crossing his arms.

These two, were Scott and Owen, two married individuals who love each other greatly. Even though it must be quite obvious that it was Scott and Owen, because the cyanette is rarely seen without his husband... and he also has cyan hair, and who else would the brunette be anyway? Not a question, don't answer that. Owen had a brilliant idea to act out the first deducing scene between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, especially the fact they were dressed up as the duo for Halloween. Scott decided to humour his husband and go along with it. And it was also Owen who wanted to act out the entirety of the first episode. Scott had obliged to it, even with the fact they had a lack of people to act out anybody else in the first episode, but he did it with the exception that they could also do episode three of the first series. Or, as they both collectively call their favourite episode— 'the pool scene'. As that one scene, is a favourite of the two. So here they were, in the back of Owen's car as they got ready to attempt to act out one of the deduction scenes. Scott could only hope that he and his husband could remember the lines and not fumble them, he was an actor— although not at "Actor Scott" level of acting, he was an actor and fairly good at it— it was something he hadn't told anyone in his friend group, not even his family.

Not until now, as that has just been revealed to everyone, including his family.

O̶h̶ w̶e̶l̶l̶ :]

"You remember your lines?" Scott asked, his eyes flicking over to his husband, for a split second. He turned up his dark grey trench coat collar, tightening his dark blue scarf up just a little more to keep it in its proper position.

"I hope so," Owen responded, giving a smile to Scott before glancing out the window of his car into the darkening sky of the setting sun as he thought for a second.
"You did remember to write what we needed to say, right? Just in case?" The brunette asked, looking at his husband once more as he fiddled with the hem of his grey jumper before moving his hand to his wrist to fiddle with the end of his black jacket's sleeve.

"Yes. Twice." Scott replied, taking out a sheet of paper from his pocket, and unfolding the sheet paper, his eyes skimming the page before handing it over to Owen.

"Twice?" Owen responded, raising a brow in curiosity at the mention of it. The brunette released his grip on his sleeve to take hold of the "script" sheet.
"Why twice?" He questioned, his curiosity peeking just in the slightest as he placed his hands and the paper in his lap.

"You can blame Bek. She likes to come into my office and steal my work, it's a pain in my ass..." Scott grumbled, taking out another sheet of paper, and tucking the still-folded sheet under his leg, just in case his memory failed him.

"Maybe, you should stop working so much. Bek does it to get you out of your office after all." Owen said softly as he tucked the script into his jacket pocket, giving an amused chuckle at the half-assed glare Scott shot at him.

"I do not spend that long in my office..." Scott grumbled to himself as he slouched forward, forehead pressed against the back of the passenger seat in the front. He looked away from Owen with a pout even while fully knowing he does spend too much time in his office. The two were silent for a few moments, a peaceful and nice silence.
"And how did you know Bek does it to get me out of there?" The cyanette asked as he finally stopped pouting, breaking the calm silence that had settled between the two.

"She told me," Owen responded simply, a small yet devious smile on his face, the answer led to Scott being silent for a few long seconds before releasing an angered huff of air. Owen gave a small amused chuckle at his husband's childishness before the two once again returned to silence, this time Owen was looking out the window and into the sky. Before Scott cleared his throat, drawing Owen's attention to him once more.

"...we should probably start acting-" Scott stated before sitting up straight in the car seat, taking out his phone for the scene.

"Oh- shit- yeah. We should." Owen agreed, leaning back into his car seat, and looking around at the outside world once more. They returned to silence, a low and comfortable silence. Scott went on the phone, wanting to start up the acting but unfortunately, Owen did not understand.
"What are you doing? Why're you on your phone?" He asked, peering over at Scott's phone with curiosity in his eyes. The cyanette groaned, his phone falling into his lap as he sighed deeply.

"Jesus Christ— It's the start of the scene, Owen!" Scott exclaimed, looking over at his husband with a furrowed brow and a frown on his lips. Owen looked perplexed for a few moments.

"What—? Oh yeah! I forgot about that!" Owen admitted, giving a small sheepish smile. Scott couldn't hold his frown for long, his face softened up and he hung his head down.

"Oh, you dumbass..." Scott muttered with a tone of affection. The cyanette softly chuckled at his husband's forgetfulness, lifting his head back up and leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his husband's cheek, to which Owen giggled at.
"This is going to be a mess..." Scott muttered, sighing softly as he leaned back.

"Have some hope, Scott. It's going to be a mess, but a fun one... maybe." Owen said with a soft smile, planting his hand on Scott's shoulder and softly smoothing the fabric covering it with his thumb. Scott smiled softly at Owen for a minute, and the latter only smiled back. Scott leaned in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Owen's lips for a split second before pulling away. The brunette's cheeks flushed pink, and he leaned against the car door, burying his face in his hands. The action only caused the cyanette to let out a soft and amused laugh, his cheeks had a soft haze of pink on them. He sighed softly, just gazing lovingly at his husband for a minute before placing his larger, and calloused hands on Owen's wrists, pulling them away. Scott intertwined their hands, his hands close to completely covering his husband's smooth, delicate hands.

"Okay. We're starting now, alright?" Scott asked, picking his phone back up into his hands as he glanced over at Owen who simply nodded in agreement. Scott stared at his phone once more, there was silence for exactly 15 seconds and a half before Scott took a breath.
"OK, you've got questions..." Scott said, lowering his phone down. He was acting and somehow did it in quick succession of just being all loving to his husband.

"Yeah—... what was my line again?" Owen asked, chuckling sheepishly. It caused the cyanette to groan once again and throw his head back against the seat playfully.
"You're such a toddler." Owen teased, causing Scott to pull his head back up to shoot a sharp glare at him.

"Not a toddler..." Scott grumbled with a huff, before quickly remembering the scripts.
"You have the script!" Scott said, his glare still sharp at Owen. Though, not a glare of 'fucking hell, you incompetent prick' and more of a 'you're an absolute moron. But I love you.' You can tell it was the latter by the fact the edges of his lips were twitching into a smile.

"...I have—? oh yeah, I have the script!" Owen said, his eyebrows raising as he remembered the script and pulled the paper out of his pocket. Staring intently at the words, trying to memorise them the best he could. Scott sighed at the brunette's words, but yet again couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his lips.

"Let's try this again," Scott said, turning his coat collar up once more. Picking his phone back up. Silence for exactly 15 seconds and a half one more before Scott took a breath.
"OK, you've got questions..." Scott said, lowering his phone down as he stared out the window.

"Yeah, where are we going?" Owen asked, glancing at Scott who didn't glance back. His orange eyes occasionally flicked to the sheet of paper to check that he was saying the correct lines.

"Crime scene. Next?" Scott responded, not even glancing at the folded sheet under his leg to remember what his lines were. Owen was silent for a minute, his lips folding inwards to kiss his teeth for a second.

"...fuck-" Owen muttered, his brows furrowed as he leaned in towards the paper. Scott had to contain a snicker, keeping solidly in character as much as he could. The brunette found his line, sitting straight up.
"Who are you? What do you do?" Owen questioned, looking at Scott as the cyanette stared away from him.

"What do you think?" Scott asked, his eyes remained rather looking outside the window

"I'd say..." Owen paused, longer than was needed before finally remembering. "...private detective." The brunette finished, his fingers softly tapping the paper.

"But?" Scott pushed, still looking away- out the window, into the windshield. Just to the outside world.

"...uh, uh- UH-..." Owen's brows furrowed once more, his eyes frantically scanning the page. Scott could barely contain his laughter, a few snickers slipping his lips as he placed his hand over his mouth. Owen glared at his husband, waking the cyanette's shoulder causing the Scotsman's laughing to escape his chapped lips. Which only caused Owen's cheeks to burn pink, slapping Scott upside the head.

"Ow!" Scott exclaimed between his laughter, his head bowing down as he continued laughing. Owen opened the car door, leaving the car in an embarrassed haze.
"Owen!- Wait!-" Scott called to the brunette, his laughter dipping down to giggles as he left the car as well, following in pursuit of his husband. Leaving the camera to record nothing but the car seats. It took a few minutes and a muffled conversation but the two sat back in the car.
"Okay, we're continuing from there," Scott said, smiling softly at Owen as he picked up the sheet. Owen cleared his throat, staring at the paper for a minute before Scott tapped the line they were on.
"Oh!" Owen said with a blink, taking a long minute to comprehend it.
"We... are not even close to the end," Owen stated, his brows furrowed though there was amusement present on his face.

"Not in the slightest," Scott responded with a nod, adjusting his scarf back to normal. The Scotsman cleared his throat, getting back into position as he sighed through his nose.
"Line, Owen?" The cyanette gently reminded the other.

"Oh! Yes, line!" Owen said, his eyebrows raising as he skimmed through the lines to memorise them.
"Ah, anyways." The brunette mumbled as he placed the sheet in his lap once more. Before getting back into character.
"But the police don't go to private detectives," Owen responded to Scott's previous comment, still staring at the latter while he gazed away. A short, smug smile carved onto the Scotsman's face for half a second before falling flat.

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the job— no- wait- shit-" Scott fumbled, leaning over to Owen to spy on his script. Causing a snicker to slip the brunette's lips.

"Forgot?" Owen sarcastically and mockingly asked, smiling at the man smugly to which Scott shot a glare.

"Shut up..." The cyanette mumbled sharply, returning to his straight(gay) up position and fixing his collar. Scott cleared his throat once more.
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world, I invented the job." Scott stated, back to acting in quick succession yet again.

"......shit," Owen muttered, sighing deeply as he forgot his lines, his eyes scanned the page for the place as Scott gave a light snicker. The brunette only rolled his eyes in response to his husband's antics of finding his memory amusing.
"What does that mean?" Owen questioned as he looked back up at Scott, eyes trained on him.

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me," Scott explained simply, turning his head fully to look out the window.

"The police don't consult amateurs," Owen said, looking over at Scott. The brunette couldn't help the smile on his face as he successfully memorised his lines.

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said "Afghanistan or Iraq" and you looked surprised," Scott noted, still staring out the window.

"Yes, how DID you know?" Owen asked, his brow furrowed as he focused on memorising his lines and not staring at his husband.

"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military, but your conversation 'bit different from my day' said trained at Barts - so army doctor, obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limps really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand like you've forgotten about it - so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic - wounded in action. Wounded in action, suntan - Afghanistan or Iraq." Scott explained simply, that a long period of silence pursued afterwards. Owen most likely forgot his line, Scott gave him a little while.

"Oh, right-!" Owen exclaimed softly, mumbling to himself before finding his line.
"You said I had a therapist," Owen stated, his brows furrowed for a mere second. He couldn't help but smile at his husband.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp, of course, you've got a therapist," Scott said simply, before finally looking over at Owen.
"Then there's your brother," Scott added, Owen was already staring at Scott so he did not need to turn his head.

"Mm?" Owen hummed in question, just staring at his lover intently.

"Your-... shit." Scott paused, thinking for a long minute as Owen giggled softly. Scott's eyebrows raised a little as he remembered.
"Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player. And you're looking for a shareflat—... ah yes, a shareflat..." Scott mumbled, mocking himself as the brunette laughed softly.
"And you're looking for a flahare— fUCK!" Scott exclaimed, facepalming as Owen laughed at his mistake. The Scotsman groaned in annoyance, muttering to himself.
"And you're looking for a FLATSHARE. Aeor, finally—" Scott sighed, his brows creased from his frustration and stress.

He always gets stressed when he can't do something perfectly.

If it's his work, writing, talking, Hell— he'll get stressed if he doesn't have his office organised. Which it never is from the fact that he never makes time to organise it.

Scott decided to take a short break from his lines and to cool down. Owen placed his hand on the cyanette's shoulder, softly smoothing it again it made the Scotsman sigh softly and lean down to the brunette, laying his head on the other's shoulder. Owen softly hummed as he hooked his arms under his husband's, hugging the cyanette and planting a soft kiss on top of his head, in the mess of cyan hair that hadn't been cut in about a month by now, it was starting to go past his shoulders. The brunette simply held Scott in his arms for a while, only releasing him when the Scotsman pulled away.

"Are you alright now?" Owen asked, his face furrowed with worry as he stared at Scott, the latter simply smiled back.

"I'm fine," Scott said softly, keeping up his smile while the brunette smiled back. Scott fixed his collar once more, settling back into position.
"Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player. And you're looking for a flatshare. You wouldn't waste money on this - it's a gift. Scratches. Not one, but many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. You wouldn't treat your one luxury item like this, so it had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already." Scott said, finally managing to speak words properly, to his relief.

"Uhm..." Owen blinked, too busy fretting over his husband to remember his lines. He quickly looked at the sheet but was quite lost still- to the point Scott had to point out where he was by tapping his finger on the lines. Owen's hummed in recognition as he read a little more before looking back up at Scott.
"The engravings?" Owen asked, staring at his husband, Scott looked back at him for a split second before looking down at the phone.

"Harry Watson. Clearly, a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live, unlikely you have extended family, not one that you're close to. So brother it is. Now, who's Clara? Three Kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must have been given to him recently, it's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then- six months on and he's giving it away. If she left HIM, he would have kept it. Sentiment. No, he wanted rid of it. He left HER. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help. Says you got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, or didn't like his drinking." Scott said simply, spinning the phone between his fingers twice before simply holding it.

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" Owen asked, although not fairly good at acting ever- he's doing fairly well. Scott had to suppress a smile and stay in character.

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection- tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge it his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunks without them. There you go, you were right." Scott placed the phone in Owen's lap, it landed on the script. And as the brunette went to grab it, it fell off.

"Oh, shit!" Owen called out, immediately attempting to go retrieve the phone, his forehead pressed against the back of the driver's seat, brown hair just barely falling into his face as he picked up the phone and sighed with relief. Scott softly chuckled and pat Owen's head, to which the latter softly hummed, smiling at Scott's action in amusement.
"Oooh, yeah my line..." The brunette remembered, his eyebrows shooting up. He let out a prolonged 'umm' as he searched for his spot.
"Ah!- OK!" Owen said, tapping his line as he cleared his throat.
"I was right? Right about what?" Owen asked while trying to replicate, and failing, the tone that was used in the scene.

"The police don't consult amatults... amatults. Fucking amatults!" Scott groaned, rubbing his temples with his index fingers as Owen softly patted his back. The cyanette sighed softly, his hands falling into his lap.
"The amateur— oh my Aeor," Scott muttered with another sigh, his brow furrowed in frustration as Owen tried to softly comfort him.
"The police don't consult amateurs," Scott said, internally cheering when he finally said his line right.

"That...... was a line I need to remember," Owen said before giving a sheepish smile, it caused a huff of amusement to slip Scott's lips, raising a brow at his husband as he searched through the paper.
"...what was I searching for again?" Owen asked with a blink, Scott tapped the line and a flicker of recognition filtered through his face.
"Ah yes, that..." Owen muttered to himself, taking a short second.
"That... was brilliant— no that was not correct-" The brunette mumbled as he was silent for thirty seconds before his eyebrows shot up again.
"That brilliamaze—... what," Owen said, his lips pulling down into an exaggerated frown. Scott only laughed at that, causing the brunette to whack his shoulder again. Scott faded to giggles.

"You need sleep." The Scotsman said matter-of-factly, even if he also bare the faint eye-bags of his all-nighters because of stressing over work and had quite the sleep debt.

"WE need sleep." Owen corrected, giving an accusatory glare towards his husband, who only groaned and pouted like the man-child he is while tired.

"After this?" Scott asked, looking at Owen with the softest gaze he could manage, trying to convince the brunette to do so. It caused Owen to sigh deeply, debating silently for a minute.

"...fine. After my line." The brunette stated before sighing through his nose. Scott's face immediately returned to normal, smiling happily at the other.
"That... was amazing," Owen said, finally getting the line correct, and just as the cyanette was going to indulge in his lines- Owen simply placed his hand over Scott's mouth.
"It's bedtime," Owen stated knowing what the Scotsman's reaction was going to be. As expected, Scott had muffledly groaned, rolling his eyes and pouting against the brunette's hand.
"Bedtime. You agreed to this." Owen noted Scott's previous agreement to which the Scotsman's only huffed, taking Owen's wrist in his hand to pry his hand away.

"Shut up..." The cyanette mumbled childishly as he leant over to the camera and shut it off.

— — — — —

Very very late birthday present to my wonderful husband<3