Fic: The Contemplation of Apples
So I gave Write or Die a go. Random-ness and things that happen when I take inspiration from an apple that I have just eaten followed.
Title: The Contemplation of Apples (and Other Problems for Consideration).
Pairing: Squint-worthy, implied John/Sherlock.
Genre: Humour, nonsense, gen.
Rating: G-8.
Length: 382 words in 10 minutes. I started out small (really small).
Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it does not belong to me.
Sherlock has never considered apples that fascinating.
They are, after all, only pieces of fruit, and fruit is something one only considers (unless it is for a case, mind you), when one has the need to eat. And that, of course is so mind-numbingly boring that it is nigh unforgivable. However, Sherlock will accept that he is, unfortunately, human (if he had the time, he would probably ask Mycroft what he could do to change that); thus, he needs to eat.
Despite his conclusions as to the nature of his body and digestive system, it is not hunger or even a baleful glare and a demand to eat that has Sherlock Holmes considering the values of fruit.
No - it is something far, far more intriguing.
John Watson.
John Watson, ex-army doctor and Sherlock’s baffling flatmate (whom Sherlock had privately thought would finally have had enough and move out, and yet here they were, a year onwards from that first day; there was always something, he reminded himself), currently staring blankly at his empty blog entry and crunching loudly on an luscious, juicy piece of fruit, was the object of Sherlock’s scrutiny at that moment. From his vantage point sprawled on their couch, he could spy unnoticed on the doctor, whilst he devoured the crisp flesh of the apple whole.
Sherlock wasn’t sure whether it was the way in which John’s tongue flicked out absent mindedly from time to time, catching stray flecks of juice, or the way that when he swallowed, Sherlock’s eyes were drawn immediately to his neck, or even the mere fact that he had not the faintest idea why he was even staring that had the detective so intrigued.
Nonetheless, appearances did have to be maintained - it would do no good for the doctor to be thinking him rapt by the sight of him eating fruit - and thus, when John turned with an glint of mischief in one eye and offered Sherlock a bite of the abused piece of half-eaten fruit, glorifying its sweet, crisp taste and overall excellence, Sherlock resolutely huffed.
Turning his back to his flatmate and tugging his dressing gown tightly around him, Sherlock did not - for once - notice as John chuckled quietly to himself and took another bite, fingers suddenly flying far faster than before.
That was fun. I’m not entirely sure I want to submit the world to this, but apparently this notion was overruled. By what I'm not yet certain.
Naranne.
Title: The Contemplation of Apples (and Other Problems for Consideration).
Pairing: Squint-worthy, implied John/Sherlock.
Genre: Humour, nonsense, gen.
Rating: G-8.
Length: 382 words in 10 minutes. I started out small (really small).
Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it does not belong to me.
Sherlock has never considered apples that fascinating.
They are, after all, only pieces of fruit, and fruit is something one only considers (unless it is for a case, mind you), when one has the need to eat. And that, of course is so mind-numbingly boring that it is nigh unforgivable. However, Sherlock will accept that he is, unfortunately, human (if he had the time, he would probably ask Mycroft what he could do to change that); thus, he needs to eat.
Despite his conclusions as to the nature of his body and digestive system, it is not hunger or even a baleful glare and a demand to eat that has Sherlock Holmes considering the values of fruit.
No - it is something far, far more intriguing.
John Watson.
John Watson, ex-army doctor and Sherlock’s baffling flatmate (whom Sherlock had privately thought would finally have had enough and move out, and yet here they were, a year onwards from that first day; there was always something, he reminded himself), currently staring blankly at his empty blog entry and crunching loudly on an luscious, juicy piece of fruit, was the object of Sherlock’s scrutiny at that moment. From his vantage point sprawled on their couch, he could spy unnoticed on the doctor, whilst he devoured the crisp flesh of the apple whole.
Sherlock wasn’t sure whether it was the way in which John’s tongue flicked out absent mindedly from time to time, catching stray flecks of juice, or the way that when he swallowed, Sherlock’s eyes were drawn immediately to his neck, or even the mere fact that he had not the faintest idea why he was even staring that had the detective so intrigued.
Nonetheless, appearances did have to be maintained - it would do no good for the doctor to be thinking him rapt by the sight of him eating fruit - and thus, when John turned with an glint of mischief in one eye and offered Sherlock a bite of the abused piece of half-eaten fruit, glorifying its sweet, crisp taste and overall excellence, Sherlock resolutely huffed.
Turning his back to his flatmate and tugging his dressing gown tightly around him, Sherlock did not - for once - notice as John chuckled quietly to himself and took another bite, fingers suddenly flying far faster than before.
That was fun. I’m not entirely sure I want to submit the world to this, but apparently this notion was overruled. By what I'm not yet certain.
Naranne.