i think pigs have started flying, y'all
For the first time in a really really long time I wrote a fic. It's just a crummy little fill for sherlockbbc_fic. But man, it's been a long time since the last time I wrote fic.
"Christ, Sherlock. We're having company for dinner. I told you to take the fingers out of the microwave," John said irritably as he did some last minute tidying of the kitchen.
"It's an experiment in decomposition," Sherlock said.
"I don't care, just get rid of it. I don't want to traumatize Harry's new girlfriend."
"You're already in the kitchen, it would be more efficient for you to throw the fingers out yourself," Sherlock said. He sounded perfectly reasonable and John wanted to strangle him.
"I am not touching those damn fingers--" John started to say.
Then he heard the sound of people at the door and started toward the stairs. He gave Sherlock's feet a gentle kick as he passed and glared at him. "Get rid of the fingers before they come upstairs."
With a noisy put upon sigh Sherlock got to his feet and went into the kitchen.
Hoping that for once in his life Sherlock actually did what he was told, John went to greet their guests.
As he swung open the door, he saw Harry, flushed with the cold and thankfully nothing else. She grinned at him, eyes clear and sober, before drawing him into a quick hug.
"And this is Irene," Harry said, placing a hand in the small of Irene's back.
Irene was pretty with long brown hair and a bright smile. John reached out and shook her hand.
"John Watson," he said. "I'm the brother."
"Great to meet you," Irene said, and John blinked in surprise at the American accent.
John ushered them both in, taking their coats. Chatting about the godawful weather, they made their up the stairs. As John opened the door he heard Sherlock say, "I'm almost done, I wanted to record some data before I disposed of the experiment."
Sherlock's back was to them, and he was bent over a sheaf of papers.
"This is my flatmate," John said.
A slight smirk on her face, Irene said quietly, "I know who he is."
There was a crashing sound as Sherlock dropped the bowl of fingers and whirled around. "Adler?"
John looked at the three of them, at Sherlock's wide shocked eyes, Harry's look of confusion, and the broadening smirk on Irene's face.
"So nice to see you again," Irene said. "Tell me, is dinner ready? I'm starving."
"Christ, Sherlock. We're having company for dinner. I told you to take the fingers out of the microwave," John said irritably as he did some last minute tidying of the kitchen.
"It's an experiment in decomposition," Sherlock said.
"I don't care, just get rid of it. I don't want to traumatize Harry's new girlfriend."
"You're already in the kitchen, it would be more efficient for you to throw the fingers out yourself," Sherlock said. He sounded perfectly reasonable and John wanted to strangle him.
"I am not touching those damn fingers--" John started to say.
Then he heard the sound of people at the door and started toward the stairs. He gave Sherlock's feet a gentle kick as he passed and glared at him. "Get rid of the fingers before they come upstairs."
With a noisy put upon sigh Sherlock got to his feet and went into the kitchen.
Hoping that for once in his life Sherlock actually did what he was told, John went to greet their guests.
As he swung open the door, he saw Harry, flushed with the cold and thankfully nothing else. She grinned at him, eyes clear and sober, before drawing him into a quick hug.
"And this is Irene," Harry said, placing a hand in the small of Irene's back.
Irene was pretty with long brown hair and a bright smile. John reached out and shook her hand.
"John Watson," he said. "I'm the brother."
"Great to meet you," Irene said, and John blinked in surprise at the American accent.
John ushered them both in, taking their coats. Chatting about the godawful weather, they made their up the stairs. As John opened the door he heard Sherlock say, "I'm almost done, I wanted to record some data before I disposed of the experiment."
Sherlock's back was to them, and he was bent over a sheaf of papers.
"This is my flatmate," John said.
A slight smirk on her face, Irene said quietly, "I know who he is."
There was a crashing sound as Sherlock dropped the bowl of fingers and whirled around. "Adler?"
John looked at the three of them, at Sherlock's wide shocked eyes, Harry's look of confusion, and the broadening smirk on Irene's face.
"So nice to see you again," Irene said. "Tell me, is dinner ready? I'm starving."