BBC Sherlock Fic: Chatroulette pt 1
Watson was getting used to Sherlock's eccentricities.
It had been a few months since he had moved in, and a good few life-threatening brushes with death too. In a way, Watson found that they were the payback, the reason for putting up with the eccentricities. Sure, Sherlock was a great friend, so far as Sherlock's somewhat crooked grasp of emotions could have friends, but the biggest advantage of hanging around the consulting detective was the adventure.
That said, the eccentricities which emerged when he was bored were almost too much to take. This week had been a nightmare, to the point where he had been scurrying off to Sarah's at every opportunity. It had been 8 days without a hint of a case, though for Sherlock it might as well have been 8 years.
Watson walked through the doors on Sunday evening, having been around at Sarah's since Friday, with a Chinese takeaway in his hands as a peace offering. He stared at the scene before him.
The flat was a utter mess. Books which had been stacked in shelves or in 'neat' piles on the floor had been spread out everywhere randomly, but for a constructed pyramid of half-open books that were arranged in one corner and reached the ceiling. Various papers were also scattered around, along with other detritus.
The man responsible for the mess was sat upside down on his chair so that his head dangled over the seat and his legs up on the back, throwing knifes into the ceiling, with apparently no regards for what might happen if they didn't stick into the plasterwork and gravity took effect.
"Jesus Sherlock, what happened?" Watson exclaimed, hurrying to dump the Chinese on the table.
"Bored." Sherlock said, his low voice drawn out enough so that it was barely more than a disgruntled rumble.
"Oh hell, not this again." Watson groaned. He watched as Sherlock took a large kitchen knife and chucked it directly upwards. It looped twice in the air before sticking blade-first deep into the ceiling. "And you're going to end up killing yourself." Watson said, giving the stack of knives in the ceiling directly above Sherlock's head a nervous glance.
"That might be more interesting, if only briefly so." Sherlock muttered sulkily.
Watson gave him a long look before taking a deep breath, taking charge.
"Right. get up, I brought you a Chinese. When did you last eat?"
He asked. When Sherlock made no move to move he walked over and nudged him until he half dragged the detective back around so he was sitting up. He then gave him a tug on his arm and Sherlock relented, sloping off into the kitchen to sit at the table.
"Oh I have no idea." Sherlock said.
"Did you eat lunch?" Watson prompted as patiently as he could, scooping out rice onto some plates.
"Lunch? No."
"Breakfast?" Watson frowned slightly.
"Probably not."
"Probably?"
"Well, I didn't sleep."
"Why not?" Watson asked, not entirely surprised. He also got the feeling that if that was the case, there was every likelihood that Sherlock hadn't eaten in days. It certainly explained how spacey he looked. He carried on serving, trying to not let Sherlock's utter apathy irritate him. He had to remain cheerful and positive and proactive if he was going to drag Sherlock out of his funk.
"Sleep is dull."
"And staying awake all night doing nothing is exciting, is it?"
Once he was finished he slid the plate over to Sherlock and then took his own, sitting opposite him. Sherlock didn't reply, and looked down at his food unenthusiastically as Watson ate. Only after Watson gave him a few well placed hard looks did he relent and start scooping food into his mouth, soon finding that he was ravenous.
They remained this way for a while, Watson studying Sherlock, before he sighed and patted his palms down on the table.
"Right." he announced.
"Right what?" Sherlock looked up form the last scoops of his food.
"I'm going to make it my project to entertain you, Sherlock." he said, smirking at him as if he knew he wouldn't take no for an answer and was prepared to fight for it.
Sherlock gave him a blank look.
"Come on, seriously, you can't drift around like this for ages. And you obviously can't look after yourself. So let me entertain you, ok?"
"And how do you propose to do that?" Sherlock replied sourly.
"Well, for a start, when I was chatting to Harry a couple of days ago, she mentioned this website which could be kind of fun. In fact, she sort of challenged me to go on it too today. She said it's a randomly generated video chat, and she wanted to see if she could beat probability and we'd get randomly put together. She seemed to think it was pretty fun. To be honest, I think it's worth a look. Why don't you go on with me? You know how much you like computers..." Watson pressed, smiling.
Sherlock gave Watson a long look before sighing.
"All-right, fine, John. I'll join you."
Watson grinned.
"Brilliant. Ok I'll give Harry a text and tell her to go online. Do you want to use the computer up in my room?" he asked.
Sherlock tilted his head slightly, looking intrigued. He had never actually been inside Watson's room before. There was an unwritten flatmate-rule that neither of them disturbed the little 'havens' of each other's bedrooms since they often served as the only true sanctuaries away from one another. He nodded, jumping at the chance to have a snoop around, and got up to follow him, watching him as he texted. he didn't need to read over his shoulder in order to know exactly what he was writing - just catching in the corner of his eye the finger movements over the keys was enough.
'Hey Harry, it's John. I'm going on chatroulette like you said.You can stop bugging me now.'
Watson opened the door to his bedroom and strode in to turn on his computer, and Sherlock stepped in behind him, casting his eyes around, taking in every little detail in mere seconds, almost unconsciously.
The room was a little bigger than Sherlock's since it had the upstairs space, but was plainly furnished since Watson had made no alterations to it. The whole area was rather Spartan, and he thought that it was obvious from this that the old army habits die hard. Having been used to packing the minimum for his duties and keeping away clutter for his old job, the room reflected this. Indeed, the bed itself was made so neatly and tightly that Sherlock was sure he could bounce pennies off the sheets, or measure an exact right-angle from the tucked-in corners.
He smiled to himself, thinking it rather adorable that his deductions of the character and life of Watson should be so accurately affirmed by the character of his room. The room was a blank canvas of order and haven. Should he want eccentric character and disorder he could go downstairs to the kitchen and living room, which Sherlock dominated with his clutter and decor.
Rather a metaphor for their relationship in general, he thought. No wonder Watson had been going mad without the excitement.
"Here we go. Pull up a chair." Watson said with a smile as he attached a webcam to his computer.
Sherlock did so and sat next to him, looking over his computer.
"inferior model." he commented.
"What?"
"The potential of this computer has been completely disregarded." Sherlock sniffed. "You must have gone for the cheapest option-pack when you bought it."
Watson gave him a look. "Of course I did."
"Disappointing."
"Does it matter? I only use it for writing and surfing the 'net." Watson said. Once it loaded up he opened up internet explorer and typed in the website address.
"You could have at least have gotten a better internet browser." Sherlock tutted.
"Look, do you want us to go on your laptop instead?" Watson snapped.
"No. Carry on."
"Fine. Good. Thankyou." Watson sighed and clicked, and chatroulette opened up.
"Remind me of the purpose of this?"
Sherlock asked, looking dully at the screen, his enthusiasm ebbing now that he had seen the inside of Watson's room. His pale eyes drifted to the drawers in the computer desk, curious of their contents so neatly hidden away.
"Basically, you just log on with the webcam - right? - and it links you up with a random person form the about 50,000 users online at any one time. You can see them and chat to then via the microphone.." he tapped his, "or the keyboard text."
"I see. But what is the purpose?" Sherlock repeated.
"I don't know. To get to know people I guess. Make friends, learn about humanity and cultures in general, have fun..." Watson shrugged. "Like I said, it's Harry's thing. Apparently she loves it. Now, are you ready? I’m going to put us onto it." he said, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it down a bit.
Sherlock raised and eyebrow and shifted in his seat, straightening out his suit and leaning back in his chair, looking more curious and a little more arrogant in light of having to interact with people. He didn't like people in general, but adored showing off to them.
"Ready when you are, John." he said.
Watson took a little breath, nodded and then logged them in. Immediately they were greeted with the camera feed of a rather obese woman with a couple of cats on her lap.
"Um. Hello there." John said awkwardly.
"Why check out your accent honey, aren't you just adorable?" The woman smiled, talking in a thick American accent. "I'm Lindsy, pleasure to meetcha."
"I'm John. This is Sherlock." He replied, glancing at Sherlock. His companion was sat back, and a thoughtful look had entered his face as he studied the woman.
"So, uh, I'm new to this." Watson admitted with a laugh. "I guess I should ask you about yourself?" he offered.
Sherlock butted in. "She's a woman of 53 who's been telling people that she's 39 for years. She has 4-6 cats in her house and follows numerous soap operas. She's been single for 15 years, mainly because she doesn't leave the house when he weight sky-rocketed after a brief spate of depression following a breakup. To fill the void and her gradually dawning realisation that she would perhaps never have children she got the cats, and she fills the void of her boredom by remembering the plots to each of her programmes perfectly and going on numerous internet forums. She has recently stopped dying her hair, and washes her clothes less often. For example that t-shirt has been worn 3 times without a wash. She is in a funk so reaches out via websites such as this, but really all she needs to do is go outside and find a hobby and everything will fall back into place."
Sherlock said, rattling off the details quickly and almost impatiently. He looked smug at the end, and the woman had an expression of shock like she had just been slapped in the face.
Sherlock waited for her response, expecting an affirmation that it was all true. But instead her screen suddenly cut out.
"Wh-what? Where did she go?!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"She nexted us." Watson replied cooly, looking irritated at Sherlock's rudeness for the poor woman.
"What?"
"they can reject us and move on. We can do the same." Watson explained, giving the man who now occupied their screen on chatroulette a sheepish look.
"Sorry about this."
Watson said, reaching to next the man on the screen so they had someone new, and ignoring Sherlock's background exclamations of annoyed disappointment at the woman's 'cowardice and self denial'.
As Watson was distracted with telling Sherlock to be quiet and to be more polite to the next people, he didn't see what appeared on the screen until they both turned back around.
What they saw both made them flinch.
"oh Jesus!" Watson exclaimed as he was greeted with the wart-and-all view of a man jacking off.
"What th-?!" Sherlock wrinkled his nose, staring at him with confused morbid fascination. "Why is he-?!"
"Just- just click- Sherlock click!- oh give it here!" Watson said, his voice quick and panicky in his attempt to get to the 'next' button and rid himself of the sight. He reached over to grab the mouse and after it was done he let a sigh of relief.
Now, instead on the screen was a teenage girl in a colourful band T-shirt in a bedroom apparently 70% occupied by cuddly toys. She was soon joined by another blonde girl of roughly the same age, who looked over her shoulder at the screen in amusement.
"Are you guys ok?"
The blonde teen asked, laughing when she saw how flustered John looked and how Sherlock's expression of intrigued disbelief hadn't quite left his face.
"Uh. I...I...yes, sorry. We just got a bit of a shock." Watson said, laughing a little.
"Shock?" The brown haired teen asked, smirking a little knowingly.
"A man masturbating." Sherlock clarified bluntly.
The girls giggled. "well, duh!"
"Duh? Why?" Watson asked.
"Aw man, you must be a n00b here. Ok, basically, like, 1 in 5 of these are guys jacking off." The brown haired one said, laughing. "probability. it's full of pervs!"
Sherlock frowned slightly. "Why on Earth would they do that?"
"I dunno, i guess they like the attention, y'know?" the blonde one shrugged. "kinda like..."
"like an exhibitionist thing. like streakers." the brown one finished.
"Yeah, like streakers. 'cos you get a lot of attention." the blonde one nodded.
John shook his head. "That's...crazy."
"Well no, 'cos, like, it's like n=one knows who you are. It’s kind of liberating I guess. I mean, you can just have fun. it's like you get lotsa weirdoes wearing masks or pretending to be the pope or something." the blonde one laughed.
"Oh yeah! we got this guy pretending to be zombie Michael Jackson!" the brown one exclaimed, sending both of them into another fit of giggles.
"Like, sometimes for example, we totally make out. Even though we're not lesbos." the blonde one said.
"Why on earth would you do that?" Watson asked, looking surprised.
"Why not? Who's gonna know. Plus seeing people's reactions are Hil-la-ri-ous! I mean, like, you get to know a lot about a person from their reactions."
"Yeah, like if they're a total douchebag or not." the brown one snorted.
Watson shook his head in disbelief, but Sherlock had a glint of interest in his eye.
"Like, you two would make a cute couple." the blonde one teased, giggling.
"Yeah, they would..." the brown one agreed, snickering.
Watson blinked, looking surprised. "Wh-? No, no, we're not..."
"Doesn't matter. It’d be funny." the blonde one said.
Sherlock smirked.
As Watson chatted pleasantly to the girls for a little while, explaining that he and Sherlock were flatmates, Sherlock sat back and kept giving Watson glances, a small smirk on his face. Attention. That would be good. As would being able to see peoples kneejerk reactions. he mused over the fascinating separation of reality from fiction on the internet, and wondered if it made one's opinion more acute and polarised, or made them more free minded and unafraid since normal society wasn't there to judge them due to their relative passing anonymity. Certainly a useful experiment...plus, he had to admit, he had been rather curious about Watson, namely how he felt like...
"John?" he asked casually to get his attention.
Watson turned to look at him. "Yes, what is I-"
He was cut off by Sherlock suddenly darting forward and grabbing Watson's face with his hands, crushing his lips against his in a kiss.
Watson's eyes widened and he struggled back, breaking off the kiss with a shocked gasp.
The teenage girls cheered a hooted, and Sherlock looked at first a little dazed, and then smug.
"What the hell was that for?!" Watson yelped, his face colouring pink and his hand wiping across his mouth.
"Experimentation." Sherlock replied simply, though there was a subtle colour to his pale cheeks too, though he tried to look completely neutral and unaffected.
"An experiment?!" Watson exclaimed.
"Aww don't be such a prude." the blonde girl whined.
"Yeah, that was pretty hot." the brown one giggled. "Told you you were cute together, didn't we?"
Watson ran his hand over his face. "Ugh..I...this is stupid."
"Come on, what's the harm?" Sherlock replied, the taste of Watson still tingling on hsi tongue. "i want to see people's reactions. It's essential for my studies. I want to see if the reactions tally with my deductions of them, and then try and compare that to see if the internet and such situations create a new persona or set of characteristics for an individual that are not normally expressed in real life." Sherlock said.
"Figured you'd have some reason for it." Watson grumbled.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Will you assist me. You could help save lives if this leads to a new theory,." Sherlock said.
"Oh I truly doubt that." Watson grumbled, rubbing his lips again, still flushed.
"Have I ever been wrong about this sort of thing before?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Well, occasionally. when it doesn’t work."
"But you admit that the reasoning for such experiments is well founded?" Sherlock pressed.
"Well...yes...yes, it is usually..." Watson had to admit.
"Oh give over and just make out again already!" one of the girls chirped.
Watson groaned and looked into Sherlock's eyes, the genius' piercing intelligent stare cutting through him like a hot knife through butter. He was surprised to find a little butterfly in his stomach.
"I...well...if it's for an experiment." he said feebly. Part of him was excited and pleased, and he didn't quite understand that emotion in him.
Sherlock beamed - a genuine expression that took Watson by surprise and made the butterfly flap around even more.
"Perfect." Sherlock said
Sherlock then leant over and gave the girls a little smirk.
"Pardon me, ladies, but I have an experiment to conduct."
{Part 2 Coming Next}
It had been a few months since he had moved in, and a good few life-threatening brushes with death too. In a way, Watson found that they were the payback, the reason for putting up with the eccentricities. Sure, Sherlock was a great friend, so far as Sherlock's somewhat crooked grasp of emotions could have friends, but the biggest advantage of hanging around the consulting detective was the adventure.
That said, the eccentricities which emerged when he was bored were almost too much to take. This week had been a nightmare, to the point where he had been scurrying off to Sarah's at every opportunity. It had been 8 days without a hint of a case, though for Sherlock it might as well have been 8 years.
Watson walked through the doors on Sunday evening, having been around at Sarah's since Friday, with a Chinese takeaway in his hands as a peace offering. He stared at the scene before him.
The flat was a utter mess. Books which had been stacked in shelves or in 'neat' piles on the floor had been spread out everywhere randomly, but for a constructed pyramid of half-open books that were arranged in one corner and reached the ceiling. Various papers were also scattered around, along with other detritus.
The man responsible for the mess was sat upside down on his chair so that his head dangled over the seat and his legs up on the back, throwing knifes into the ceiling, with apparently no regards for what might happen if they didn't stick into the plasterwork and gravity took effect.
"Jesus Sherlock, what happened?" Watson exclaimed, hurrying to dump the Chinese on the table.
"Bored." Sherlock said, his low voice drawn out enough so that it was barely more than a disgruntled rumble.
"Oh hell, not this again." Watson groaned. He watched as Sherlock took a large kitchen knife and chucked it directly upwards. It looped twice in the air before sticking blade-first deep into the ceiling. "And you're going to end up killing yourself." Watson said, giving the stack of knives in the ceiling directly above Sherlock's head a nervous glance.
"That might be more interesting, if only briefly so." Sherlock muttered sulkily.
Watson gave him a long look before taking a deep breath, taking charge.
"Right. get up, I brought you a Chinese. When did you last eat?"
He asked. When Sherlock made no move to move he walked over and nudged him until he half dragged the detective back around so he was sitting up. He then gave him a tug on his arm and Sherlock relented, sloping off into the kitchen to sit at the table.
"Oh I have no idea." Sherlock said.
"Did you eat lunch?" Watson prompted as patiently as he could, scooping out rice onto some plates.
"Lunch? No."
"Breakfast?" Watson frowned slightly.
"Probably not."
"Probably?"
"Well, I didn't sleep."
"Why not?" Watson asked, not entirely surprised. He also got the feeling that if that was the case, there was every likelihood that Sherlock hadn't eaten in days. It certainly explained how spacey he looked. He carried on serving, trying to not let Sherlock's utter apathy irritate him. He had to remain cheerful and positive and proactive if he was going to drag Sherlock out of his funk.
"Sleep is dull."
"And staying awake all night doing nothing is exciting, is it?"
Once he was finished he slid the plate over to Sherlock and then took his own, sitting opposite him. Sherlock didn't reply, and looked down at his food unenthusiastically as Watson ate. Only after Watson gave him a few well placed hard looks did he relent and start scooping food into his mouth, soon finding that he was ravenous.
They remained this way for a while, Watson studying Sherlock, before he sighed and patted his palms down on the table.
"Right." he announced.
"Right what?" Sherlock looked up form the last scoops of his food.
"I'm going to make it my project to entertain you, Sherlock." he said, smirking at him as if he knew he wouldn't take no for an answer and was prepared to fight for it.
Sherlock gave him a blank look.
"Come on, seriously, you can't drift around like this for ages. And you obviously can't look after yourself. So let me entertain you, ok?"
"And how do you propose to do that?" Sherlock replied sourly.
"Well, for a start, when I was chatting to Harry a couple of days ago, she mentioned this website which could be kind of fun. In fact, she sort of challenged me to go on it too today. She said it's a randomly generated video chat, and she wanted to see if she could beat probability and we'd get randomly put together. She seemed to think it was pretty fun. To be honest, I think it's worth a look. Why don't you go on with me? You know how much you like computers..." Watson pressed, smiling.
Sherlock gave Watson a long look before sighing.
"All-right, fine, John. I'll join you."
Watson grinned.
"Brilliant. Ok I'll give Harry a text and tell her to go online. Do you want to use the computer up in my room?" he asked.
Sherlock tilted his head slightly, looking intrigued. He had never actually been inside Watson's room before. There was an unwritten flatmate-rule that neither of them disturbed the little 'havens' of each other's bedrooms since they often served as the only true sanctuaries away from one another. He nodded, jumping at the chance to have a snoop around, and got up to follow him, watching him as he texted. he didn't need to read over his shoulder in order to know exactly what he was writing - just catching in the corner of his eye the finger movements over the keys was enough.
'Hey Harry, it's John. I'm going on chatroulette like you said.You can stop bugging me now.'
Watson opened the door to his bedroom and strode in to turn on his computer, and Sherlock stepped in behind him, casting his eyes around, taking in every little detail in mere seconds, almost unconsciously.
The room was a little bigger than Sherlock's since it had the upstairs space, but was plainly furnished since Watson had made no alterations to it. The whole area was rather Spartan, and he thought that it was obvious from this that the old army habits die hard. Having been used to packing the minimum for his duties and keeping away clutter for his old job, the room reflected this. Indeed, the bed itself was made so neatly and tightly that Sherlock was sure he could bounce pennies off the sheets, or measure an exact right-angle from the tucked-in corners.
He smiled to himself, thinking it rather adorable that his deductions of the character and life of Watson should be so accurately affirmed by the character of his room. The room was a blank canvas of order and haven. Should he want eccentric character and disorder he could go downstairs to the kitchen and living room, which Sherlock dominated with his clutter and decor.
Rather a metaphor for their relationship in general, he thought. No wonder Watson had been going mad without the excitement.
"Here we go. Pull up a chair." Watson said with a smile as he attached a webcam to his computer.
Sherlock did so and sat next to him, looking over his computer.
"inferior model." he commented.
"What?"
"The potential of this computer has been completely disregarded." Sherlock sniffed. "You must have gone for the cheapest option-pack when you bought it."
Watson gave him a look. "Of course I did."
"Disappointing."
"Does it matter? I only use it for writing and surfing the 'net." Watson said. Once it loaded up he opened up internet explorer and typed in the website address.
"You could have at least have gotten a better internet browser." Sherlock tutted.
"Look, do you want us to go on your laptop instead?" Watson snapped.
"No. Carry on."
"Fine. Good. Thankyou." Watson sighed and clicked, and chatroulette opened up.
"Remind me of the purpose of this?"
Sherlock asked, looking dully at the screen, his enthusiasm ebbing now that he had seen the inside of Watson's room. His pale eyes drifted to the drawers in the computer desk, curious of their contents so neatly hidden away.
"Basically, you just log on with the webcam - right? - and it links you up with a random person form the about 50,000 users online at any one time. You can see them and chat to then via the microphone.." he tapped his, "or the keyboard text."
"I see. But what is the purpose?" Sherlock repeated.
"I don't know. To get to know people I guess. Make friends, learn about humanity and cultures in general, have fun..." Watson shrugged. "Like I said, it's Harry's thing. Apparently she loves it. Now, are you ready? I’m going to put us onto it." he said, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it down a bit.
Sherlock raised and eyebrow and shifted in his seat, straightening out his suit and leaning back in his chair, looking more curious and a little more arrogant in light of having to interact with people. He didn't like people in general, but adored showing off to them.
"Ready when you are, John." he said.
Watson took a little breath, nodded and then logged them in. Immediately they were greeted with the camera feed of a rather obese woman with a couple of cats on her lap.
"Um. Hello there." John said awkwardly.
"Why check out your accent honey, aren't you just adorable?" The woman smiled, talking in a thick American accent. "I'm Lindsy, pleasure to meetcha."
"I'm John. This is Sherlock." He replied, glancing at Sherlock. His companion was sat back, and a thoughtful look had entered his face as he studied the woman.
"So, uh, I'm new to this." Watson admitted with a laugh. "I guess I should ask you about yourself?" he offered.
Sherlock butted in. "She's a woman of 53 who's been telling people that she's 39 for years. She has 4-6 cats in her house and follows numerous soap operas. She's been single for 15 years, mainly because she doesn't leave the house when he weight sky-rocketed after a brief spate of depression following a breakup. To fill the void and her gradually dawning realisation that she would perhaps never have children she got the cats, and she fills the void of her boredom by remembering the plots to each of her programmes perfectly and going on numerous internet forums. She has recently stopped dying her hair, and washes her clothes less often. For example that t-shirt has been worn 3 times without a wash. She is in a funk so reaches out via websites such as this, but really all she needs to do is go outside and find a hobby and everything will fall back into place."
Sherlock said, rattling off the details quickly and almost impatiently. He looked smug at the end, and the woman had an expression of shock like she had just been slapped in the face.
Sherlock waited for her response, expecting an affirmation that it was all true. But instead her screen suddenly cut out.
"Wh-what? Where did she go?!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"She nexted us." Watson replied cooly, looking irritated at Sherlock's rudeness for the poor woman.
"What?"
"they can reject us and move on. We can do the same." Watson explained, giving the man who now occupied their screen on chatroulette a sheepish look.
"Sorry about this."
Watson said, reaching to next the man on the screen so they had someone new, and ignoring Sherlock's background exclamations of annoyed disappointment at the woman's 'cowardice and self denial'.
As Watson was distracted with telling Sherlock to be quiet and to be more polite to the next people, he didn't see what appeared on the screen until they both turned back around.
What they saw both made them flinch.
"oh Jesus!" Watson exclaimed as he was greeted with the wart-and-all view of a man jacking off.
"What th-?!" Sherlock wrinkled his nose, staring at him with confused morbid fascination. "Why is he-?!"
"Just- just click- Sherlock click!- oh give it here!" Watson said, his voice quick and panicky in his attempt to get to the 'next' button and rid himself of the sight. He reached over to grab the mouse and after it was done he let a sigh of relief.
Now, instead on the screen was a teenage girl in a colourful band T-shirt in a bedroom apparently 70% occupied by cuddly toys. She was soon joined by another blonde girl of roughly the same age, who looked over her shoulder at the screen in amusement.
"Are you guys ok?"
The blonde teen asked, laughing when she saw how flustered John looked and how Sherlock's expression of intrigued disbelief hadn't quite left his face.
"Uh. I...I...yes, sorry. We just got a bit of a shock." Watson said, laughing a little.
"Shock?" The brown haired teen asked, smirking a little knowingly.
"A man masturbating." Sherlock clarified bluntly.
The girls giggled. "well, duh!"
"Duh? Why?" Watson asked.
"Aw man, you must be a n00b here. Ok, basically, like, 1 in 5 of these are guys jacking off." The brown haired one said, laughing. "probability. it's full of pervs!"
Sherlock frowned slightly. "Why on Earth would they do that?"
"I dunno, i guess they like the attention, y'know?" the blonde one shrugged. "kinda like..."
"like an exhibitionist thing. like streakers." the brown one finished.
"Yeah, like streakers. 'cos you get a lot of attention." the blonde one nodded.
John shook his head. "That's...crazy."
"Well no, 'cos, like, it's like n=one knows who you are. It’s kind of liberating I guess. I mean, you can just have fun. it's like you get lotsa weirdoes wearing masks or pretending to be the pope or something." the blonde one laughed.
"Oh yeah! we got this guy pretending to be zombie Michael Jackson!" the brown one exclaimed, sending both of them into another fit of giggles.
"Like, sometimes for example, we totally make out. Even though we're not lesbos." the blonde one said.
"Why on earth would you do that?" Watson asked, looking surprised.
"Why not? Who's gonna know. Plus seeing people's reactions are Hil-la-ri-ous! I mean, like, you get to know a lot about a person from their reactions."
"Yeah, like if they're a total douchebag or not." the brown one snorted.
Watson shook his head in disbelief, but Sherlock had a glint of interest in his eye.
"Like, you two would make a cute couple." the blonde one teased, giggling.
"Yeah, they would..." the brown one agreed, snickering.
Watson blinked, looking surprised. "Wh-? No, no, we're not..."
"Doesn't matter. It’d be funny." the blonde one said.
Sherlock smirked.
As Watson chatted pleasantly to the girls for a little while, explaining that he and Sherlock were flatmates, Sherlock sat back and kept giving Watson glances, a small smirk on his face. Attention. That would be good. As would being able to see peoples kneejerk reactions. he mused over the fascinating separation of reality from fiction on the internet, and wondered if it made one's opinion more acute and polarised, or made them more free minded and unafraid since normal society wasn't there to judge them due to their relative passing anonymity. Certainly a useful experiment...plus, he had to admit, he had been rather curious about Watson, namely how he felt like...
"John?" he asked casually to get his attention.
Watson turned to look at him. "Yes, what is I-"
He was cut off by Sherlock suddenly darting forward and grabbing Watson's face with his hands, crushing his lips against his in a kiss.
Watson's eyes widened and he struggled back, breaking off the kiss with a shocked gasp.
The teenage girls cheered a hooted, and Sherlock looked at first a little dazed, and then smug.
"What the hell was that for?!" Watson yelped, his face colouring pink and his hand wiping across his mouth.
"Experimentation." Sherlock replied simply, though there was a subtle colour to his pale cheeks too, though he tried to look completely neutral and unaffected.
"An experiment?!" Watson exclaimed.
"Aww don't be such a prude." the blonde girl whined.
"Yeah, that was pretty hot." the brown one giggled. "Told you you were cute together, didn't we?"
Watson ran his hand over his face. "Ugh..I...this is stupid."
"Come on, what's the harm?" Sherlock replied, the taste of Watson still tingling on hsi tongue. "i want to see people's reactions. It's essential for my studies. I want to see if the reactions tally with my deductions of them, and then try and compare that to see if the internet and such situations create a new persona or set of characteristics for an individual that are not normally expressed in real life." Sherlock said.
"Figured you'd have some reason for it." Watson grumbled.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Will you assist me. You could help save lives if this leads to a new theory,." Sherlock said.
"Oh I truly doubt that." Watson grumbled, rubbing his lips again, still flushed.
"Have I ever been wrong about this sort of thing before?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Well, occasionally. when it doesn’t work."
"But you admit that the reasoning for such experiments is well founded?" Sherlock pressed.
"Well...yes...yes, it is usually..." Watson had to admit.
"Oh give over and just make out again already!" one of the girls chirped.
Watson groaned and looked into Sherlock's eyes, the genius' piercing intelligent stare cutting through him like a hot knife through butter. He was surprised to find a little butterfly in his stomach.
"I...well...if it's for an experiment." he said feebly. Part of him was excited and pleased, and he didn't quite understand that emotion in him.
Sherlock beamed - a genuine expression that took Watson by surprise and made the butterfly flap around even more.
"Perfect." Sherlock said
Sherlock then leant over and gave the girls a little smirk.
"Pardon me, ladies, but I have an experiment to conduct."
{Part 2 Coming Next}