Sherlock Fanfic: A Friendly Game (JWP 2016 #17)
Title: A Friendly Game
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG13, silliness
Warnings: none
Word Count: 320
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #17: A Team Effort. This has been written twice, because my text editor lost the first, longer version when it locked up. Arg.
Summary: John did try to get Sherlock to give Anderson a second chance.
A Friendly Game
The door burst open and let the group out into the dark wet streets.
"You were supposed to be our ringer, Holmes!" ranted Anderson. "You were useless!"
"Hey," John chastised, frowning at Anderson. "We were doing you a favour."
Anderson snorted. "Some favour." Meanwhile, Sherlock sailed on into the night, unperturbed.
"I did tell you," Lestrade said, shaking his head ruefully. "Sherlock's got knowledge in a lot of areas, but not in this one."
"Yeah, and because of that we lost."
Ahead of them, John saw Sherlock's shoulders rise and fall, a put-upon sigh.
"It's not his fault." John muttered. "You assumed he knew everything. You assumed wrong."
"I can hear you, John." Sherlock's voice drifted back from his forward position. "But you are correct. I don't fill my head with the sort of nonsense and frippery that that type of meaningless-" Sherlock flipped a hand out to the side and waggled it dismissively. "-contest. focuses on. I wouldn't sully my brain with anything about Kardashians or One Dimension-"
"ONE DIRECTION!" Anderson shouted.
"WHATEVER!" Sherlock shouted back, and began walking faster.
Lestrade and John simultaneously facepalmed.
"Look, Anderson, it's fine," said Lestrade.
"It's not!" Anderson moaned. "We've slipped in the league standings three spots!"
Lestrade patted the forensic tech on the shoulder soothingly. "Donovan will be over her laryngitis next week, and Henderson will be back from Tenerife, and Sherlock and John won't need to be on the Met's Pub Quiz team ever again." He rolled his eyes apologetically at John.
John mouthed, "Thank you," towards Lestrade, and increased his pace to catch up with his flatmate.
"Are you satisfied?" Sherlock muttered when John drew even with him, not slacking his pace. "I tried to 'be sociable' and 'get to know Anderson', as you suggested. Do you now accept that Anderson is an irredeemable prat and that I am in fact judging him on completely valid observations?"
John looked over his shoulder to see Anderson still gesticulating at Lestrade.
"Yeah, fair enough," John said, and they walked home.
-.-.-
(that's it)
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG13, silliness
Warnings: none
Word Count: 320
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #17: A Team Effort. This has been written twice, because my text editor lost the first, longer version when it locked up. Arg.
Summary: John did try to get Sherlock to give Anderson a second chance.
A Friendly Game
The door burst open and let the group out into the dark wet streets.
"You were supposed to be our ringer, Holmes!" ranted Anderson. "You were useless!"
"Hey," John chastised, frowning at Anderson. "We were doing you a favour."
Anderson snorted. "Some favour." Meanwhile, Sherlock sailed on into the night, unperturbed.
"I did tell you," Lestrade said, shaking his head ruefully. "Sherlock's got knowledge in a lot of areas, but not in this one."
"Yeah, and because of that we lost."
Ahead of them, John saw Sherlock's shoulders rise and fall, a put-upon sigh.
"It's not his fault." John muttered. "You assumed he knew everything. You assumed wrong."
"I can hear you, John." Sherlock's voice drifted back from his forward position. "But you are correct. I don't fill my head with the sort of nonsense and frippery that that type of meaningless-" Sherlock flipped a hand out to the side and waggled it dismissively. "-contest. focuses on. I wouldn't sully my brain with anything about Kardashians or One Dimension-"
"ONE DIRECTION!" Anderson shouted.
"WHATEVER!" Sherlock shouted back, and began walking faster.
Lestrade and John simultaneously facepalmed.
"Look, Anderson, it's fine," said Lestrade.
"It's not!" Anderson moaned. "We've slipped in the league standings three spots!"
Lestrade patted the forensic tech on the shoulder soothingly. "Donovan will be over her laryngitis next week, and Henderson will be back from Tenerife, and Sherlock and John won't need to be on the Met's Pub Quiz team ever again." He rolled his eyes apologetically at John.
John mouthed, "Thank you," towards Lestrade, and increased his pace to catch up with his flatmate.
"Are you satisfied?" Sherlock muttered when John drew even with him, not slacking his pace. "I tried to 'be sociable' and 'get to know Anderson', as you suggested. Do you now accept that Anderson is an irredeemable prat and that I am in fact judging him on completely valid observations?"
John looked over his shoulder to see Anderson still gesticulating at Lestrade.
"Yeah, fair enough," John said, and they walked home.
-.-.-
(that's it)