S - Oneshot: Green
Title: Green
Author: Jaelijn (jaelijn )
Rating: G
Fandom: BBC!Sherlock
Warnings: an annoyed Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mrs Hudson
Summary: The 17th of March is a very ordinary day for Sherlock - or is it?
Disclaimer: This incarnation of Sherlock Holmes belongs to the BBC and creators Moffat and Gatiss. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: I guess John and Mrs Hudson are a bit over the top, but it was too nice an occasion to pass it by. Hope you enjoy!
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„JOHN!“
Horrified, I jumped up from my writing table. I had moved it and my laptop to my room - maybe it would stop Sherlock from cracking my password. Of course, it didn't make it any more difficult, but if I understood Sherlock's twisted logic correctly, he was far to lazy when he was bored to climb an additional flight of stairs.
I stumbled down the steps in a hurry. “Sherlock! What's wrong?”
Sherlock stood in front of our coffee table, pointing in outrage at the apparently offending object. “What in the world is that?” He pocked the object as if it would bite him. “I would say it were a present from Mycroft, but not even his sense of style is that bad.”
I blushed, both in anger and shame. “It's not from Mycroft, I bought it - and you are not supposed to wear it!”
“What else is a top hat for?” Sherlock asked, flopping down on the sofa. His expression was very close to a pout.
“Well, you could wear it, but I bought it more as a décor - don't you know what day it is?”
“The 17th of March. As far as I am concerned, a perfectly ordinary and horribly boring day.”
“I take it the case was not worth your time, then.”
Sherlock huffed, crossing his arms. “Remove that object, John, before the green hurts my eyes.”
“I won't! Today is St Patrick's day, and it's tradition to wear something green.”
“I see. That is why you are wearing the jumper your sister sent you, of which you said that she had to have been very drunk when she picked it.”
“Sherlock!”
“Also, as far as I know, you are not Irish, nor of Irish decent, so why bother?”
“It's just... fun, Sherlock. See, there's a little four-leaved clover on here...”
Sherlock did not even bother to turn his head. “Yes, well. Take your shamrocks, hats and green with you. I'm getting a headache.”
I left Sherlock to his pouting - when he was in the mood, he was perfectly capable of destroying my green top hat in some bad-smelling experiment.
However, some minutes later, Sherlock's voice echoed through the house, no doubt rattling the china plates in Mrs Hudson's kitchen cupboard (I had long replaced our china with plastic plates and cubs - they were less likely to break). “Mrs Hudson! Remove that thing immediately! What has gotten into everyone? Have your tiny brains finally turned to jelly?”
Curious, I wandered down to investigate. Mrs Hudson came towards me. She was wearing a very green dress, which was a nice change to her usual pink one, looking very offended. “Ah, John, you are a nice fellow! You can have some fun, unlike other people in this house...” She glared at the closed door of the flat. “I'll go down and clean up the mess Sherlock's made of the pavement. Better don't go in there with anything green.” And with that, she walked past me, making her way to the cleaning chamber.
I could imagine what had happened, but since I already had my run-in with Sherlock, I considered it safe to enter the living room.
Sherlock stood by the open window, quietly fuming. On the floor, there were the shreds of a green curtain with a border of tiny stitched clover leafs.
Sherlock paid no attention as I approached the window to look out.
Mrs Hudson was already outside, busy sweeping up what looked like the shards of a flowerpot and the remains of a very unfortunate plant. “Was that really necessary, Sherlock?”
Sherlock heaved a sigh. “If I wish for my brain to be turned to jelly by offending colours, I will tell you; there is no need to force it upon me - have you seen what she's done to the skull!?”
I looked over at the mantle, and burst out laughing. Sherlock's skull had been returned, but now, two lovingly crafted clover leafs out of felt where fitted into the eye sockets, and it was wearing a miniature of the hat that was now sitting on my bed.
“It's not funny, John.”
“Yes, it is! Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Sherlock!”
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