Writing prompt meme drabble #1
Title: Gotta hand it to ya'. (alternatively: John Watson and his sad, sad life)
Author:
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word count: 716 words, wow.
Notes: Prompt from Mir! "Sherlock and John. John coming home to find a random hand in a pickle jar on his desk."
Okay so it didn't quite end up being his desk, but I got everything else. The end is rushed because I fail at writing long things forever and I didn't want to keep rambling forever.....derpderp. ANYWAY. ONWARDS!
***
It was pale. It was wrinkly. And it certainly wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d opened the fridge to get some pickles.
It was a hand. Or a hand in a jar, to be specific. The more he stared at it, the more he could swear it was mocking him. Sitting there in its glass confinement that wasn’t fit to hold it (but what was?), the appendage seemed to be having a laugh at him.
Or perhaps he’d finally gone off the deep end after being with Sherlock too long. The thought of the detective brought him out of his thoughts and he closed the refrigerator door with a sigh. Definitely been with Sherlock too long. Maybe he ought to call up Sarah and see if she’d want to go out for another date. Something quiet, maybe. And something Sherlock can’t crash. Before all that though, he really should ask why the hand is there in the first place.
It isn’t hard to find his roommate. If he’s not in his bedroom (which he often isn’t), the other man lurks in the sitting room they share either watching telly or whinging about how bored he is without any murders afoot. Thankfully, tonight seems to be the night where he is doing the former and John walks into the room to see Sherlock perched on the sofa, eyebrows furrowed as they always are when he’s thinking about something.
“Sherlock?”
“Not now John. They’re about to reveal who’s going to be voted off-“
“Sherlock.”
The second time around he gets the detective’s attention and if he weren’t crossing his arms and trying his best to frown, he’d laugh. The look Sherlock gave him is as if someone told him that the cat escaped from the backyard. And then got run through a lawnmower. And was found splattered all over London - no wait, Sherlock would probably like that. It’d be a mystery to solve for him to see just who’d been able to do that to the cat. He’d never been good at metaphors.
“There’s a hand in the fridge.”
It’s said in his most straightforward tone because he knows that causing a fuss will do neither of them any good. Sherlock’s answer is a pointed stare.
“It’s in a pickle jar.”
And again, no words but a raised eyebrow. “What exactly is your point here, John?”
Sometime Watson wonders if he’d known about all this beforehand, would he still have shown up that morning at Baker Street to look at a flat with Sherlock Holmes? Before he can go into a riveting inner monologue, Sherlock is tapping his fingers impatiently in a sign that he wants John to get on with it so that he can back to his show.
“I thought we had a deal Sherlock. You can’t keep bringing in body parts from the morgue-“
“It’s not from the morgue.”
The interruption unfortunately, does not lead to any pleasant thoughts in John Watson’s head. In fact, they seem to be taking the very opposite route as John wonders if there’s a poor sod out there with only one hand now thanks to Sherlock Holmes. No, John. Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.
“It’s not-where exactly is it from Sherlock?”
The other man simply runs a hand through his hair and shifts so he’s facing the television set again. John feels a bit dismissed until the other speaks up again.
“It fell out of the sky. I found it. Thought I’d take a better look so I brought it back and put it in the jar to preserve it from decay. Any further questions or can I go back to watching them kick Amy off the island?”
Apparently, Sherlock decided to take John’s silence for an answer because he’s already back to watching whatever it may be. John on the other hand has a dozen thoughts zooming about his head. Why would a hand fall out of the sky of all things? Why would Sherlock decide that keeping it is a good idea? Where was Mrs. Hudson?
Shaking his head, John realizes there is one very simple answer to this. Life with Sherlock Holmes is never boring and as a result, this is what happens.
Oh yes. It’s just another day with Sherlock Holmes.
Author:
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word count: 716 words, wow.
Notes: Prompt from Mir! "Sherlock and John. John coming home to find a random hand in a pickle jar on his desk."
Okay so it didn't quite end up being his desk, but I got everything else. The end is rushed because I fail at writing long things forever and I didn't want to keep rambling forever.....derpderp. ANYWAY. ONWARDS!
***
It was pale. It was wrinkly. And it certainly wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d opened the fridge to get some pickles.
It was a hand. Or a hand in a jar, to be specific. The more he stared at it, the more he could swear it was mocking him. Sitting there in its glass confinement that wasn’t fit to hold it (but what was?), the appendage seemed to be having a laugh at him.
Or perhaps he’d finally gone off the deep end after being with Sherlock too long. The thought of the detective brought him out of his thoughts and he closed the refrigerator door with a sigh. Definitely been with Sherlock too long. Maybe he ought to call up Sarah and see if she’d want to go out for another date. Something quiet, maybe. And something Sherlock can’t crash. Before all that though, he really should ask why the hand is there in the first place.
It isn’t hard to find his roommate. If he’s not in his bedroom (which he often isn’t), the other man lurks in the sitting room they share either watching telly or whinging about how bored he is without any murders afoot. Thankfully, tonight seems to be the night where he is doing the former and John walks into the room to see Sherlock perched on the sofa, eyebrows furrowed as they always are when he’s thinking about something.
“Sherlock?”
“Not now John. They’re about to reveal who’s going to be voted off-“
“Sherlock.”
The second time around he gets the detective’s attention and if he weren’t crossing his arms and trying his best to frown, he’d laugh. The look Sherlock gave him is as if someone told him that the cat escaped from the backyard. And then got run through a lawnmower. And was found splattered all over London - no wait, Sherlock would probably like that. It’d be a mystery to solve for him to see just who’d been able to do that to the cat. He’d never been good at metaphors.
“There’s a hand in the fridge.”
It’s said in his most straightforward tone because he knows that causing a fuss will do neither of them any good. Sherlock’s answer is a pointed stare.
“It’s in a pickle jar.”
And again, no words but a raised eyebrow. “What exactly is your point here, John?”
Sometime Watson wonders if he’d known about all this beforehand, would he still have shown up that morning at Baker Street to look at a flat with Sherlock Holmes? Before he can go into a riveting inner monologue, Sherlock is tapping his fingers impatiently in a sign that he wants John to get on with it so that he can back to his show.
“I thought we had a deal Sherlock. You can’t keep bringing in body parts from the morgue-“
“It’s not from the morgue.”
The interruption unfortunately, does not lead to any pleasant thoughts in John Watson’s head. In fact, they seem to be taking the very opposite route as John wonders if there’s a poor sod out there with only one hand now thanks to Sherlock Holmes. No, John. Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.
“It’s not-where exactly is it from Sherlock?”
The other man simply runs a hand through his hair and shifts so he’s facing the television set again. John feels a bit dismissed until the other speaks up again.
“It fell out of the sky. I found it. Thought I’d take a better look so I brought it back and put it in the jar to preserve it from decay. Any further questions or can I go back to watching them kick Amy off the island?”
Apparently, Sherlock decided to take John’s silence for an answer because he’s already back to watching whatever it may be. John on the other hand has a dozen thoughts zooming about his head. Why would a hand fall out of the sky of all things? Why would Sherlock decide that keeping it is a good idea? Where was Mrs. Hudson?
Shaking his head, John realizes there is one very simple answer to this. Life with Sherlock Holmes is never boring and as a result, this is what happens.
Oh yes. It’s just another day with Sherlock Holmes.