Three Short Stories About John & Sherlock.
BBC SHERLOCK
Characters: John & Sherlock
Warnings: Swearing. Un-beta'd.
Disclaimer: Sherlock isn't mine.
A/N: This whole thing is based upon various conversations with my long-suffering lj best friend cherish4
John opened the fridge to be confronted with a jar of something liquid and suspiciously yellow. He sighed, and without turning round he said, with as little emotion as possible;
“Sherlock, is that your urine in the fridge?”
Sherlock scoffed, “No. Of course not.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I milked a kidney. Well, no, a bladder. But the whole thing had a kidney attached.”
John tried to process this new outburst of weirdness. He didn’t manage.
“You milked a kidney?”
“In a fashion.”
“Right. Where is it now?”
“Bin, I think. Either the bin or the sink.”
John looked in the sink.
“It isn’t in the sink.”
“Bin then.”
“Are you sure?”
Sherlock hummed to himself, “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It could be anywhere.”
At least he tells the truth. “Great.”
There was a pause, and John picked up the milk - which was the whole reason he was in the fridge in the first place. He poured some into his cup of tea, and then returned the bottle to the fridge - at a safe distance from the jar of piss.
“You’re scarily weird; you do know that, don’t you?”
Sherlock laughed.
………………………………………………..
“Sherlock, should you really be going out when you’re still not well?”
“I’m fine. And anyway, Lestrade needs my help.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Sherlock poked his head back around the corner.
“Look John, you’re going to see Harry. It’s been planned for a week. This case will be mind-numbingly dull, and I’ll probably be back within an hour.”
“Okay, just as long as you don’t pass out from the pain in the middle of bouncing around a crime scene. Imagine how much that would scare everyone?”
Sherlock sighed, but smirked slightly at the same time.
“Yes, I understand. If I pass out, I just won’t tell you. Okay?”
“Sherlock Holmes; if you do pass out and dare not to tell me, there will be consequences. Grave consequences.”
“John, you’re really not threatening.”
Sherlock breezed out of the door. John wondered why he bothered worrying about Sherlock; it took too much effort, and was rewarded with very little in the end.
…………………………………………………..
“I’m bored.”
“I know.”
“Really bored.”
“I know.”
Sherlock sighed, loudly. And then his eyes went bright. John looked up, seeing the tell-tale signs of idea cross across his face. It was unnerving.
“What?”
Sherlock smiled, and it was really unnerving.
“I know what will save me from being bored.”
“…” John didn’t really want to know, but he couldn’t stop himself asking, “What?”
“I’m going to teach you how to play violin!”
There was no point in arguing. So when Sherlock went barrelling into his room to fetch the instrument, John just took another large gulp of beer and sat back in the chair.