221B, Baker Street, London - Monday Night
Now that he was back home in London and no longer having his brain slowly melted out his ears by teaching dozens of small creatures, Sherlock found himself to be bored. Terribly, terribly bored.
Bored enough, it seemed, to shoot a smiley face into the wall and then get into a little spat with John. Apparently a head was a step too far for the esteemed doctor to take. Not even Mrs. Hudson clucking her tongue and muttering about 'domestics' was enough to rouse him from his little sulk ennui.
But, it seemed, it was just enough to get him up and off the couch to watch John as he fled the flat.
"It's nippy out there," Mrs. Hudson said, shaking her head in disappointment. As though the pair of them would end up dead in a ditch without her to take care of them. "He should have wrapped up better."
Sherlock simply ignored it as he did with most of her attempts to mother. Other than when it involved food. "Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful," he said, the last few words spoken with disappointment as he watched John disappear down the street. "Isn't it hateful?"
"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up soon enough," she replied, picking up things about the apartment as she moved. "A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."
She knew him so well.
Sherlock sighed perhaps in a dramatic fashion. For him, at least. "Can't come too soon."
That would be when she noticed the impromptu artistic expression on the wall. "What have you done to my bloody wall?!," Mrs. Hudson asked with a little squawk of annoyance and a foul look in his direction. Finding no response of shame or guilt from him, she headed back out of the flat. "I'm putting this on your rent, young man!"
He could hear her on the stairs as she made her way back to the ground level. That was the last thing he heard save for the ringing in his ears as the world exploded around him.
[[NFB because... London... NFI, establishy!]]
Bored enough, it seemed, to shoot a smiley face into the wall and then get into a little spat with John. Apparently a head was a step too far for the esteemed doctor to take. Not even Mrs. Hudson clucking her tongue and muttering about 'domestics' was enough to rouse him from his little sulk ennui.
But, it seemed, it was just enough to get him up and off the couch to watch John as he fled the flat.
"It's nippy out there," Mrs. Hudson said, shaking her head in disappointment. As though the pair of them would end up dead in a ditch without her to take care of them. "He should have wrapped up better."
Sherlock simply ignored it as he did with most of her attempts to mother. Other than when it involved food. "Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful," he said, the last few words spoken with disappointment as he watched John disappear down the street. "Isn't it hateful?"
"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up soon enough," she replied, picking up things about the apartment as she moved. "A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."
She knew him so well.
Sherlock sighed perhaps in a dramatic fashion. For him, at least. "Can't come too soon."
That would be when she noticed the impromptu artistic expression on the wall. "What have you done to my bloody wall?!," Mrs. Hudson asked with a little squawk of annoyance and a foul look in his direction. Finding no response of shame or guilt from him, she headed back out of the flat. "I'm putting this on your rent, young man!"
He could hear her on the stairs as she made her way back to the ground level. That was the last thing he heard save for the ringing in his ears as the world exploded around him.
[[NFB because... London... NFI, establishy!]]