Prompt Post Part XXVIII
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
"For God's sake," Sherlock groaned, surveying the mess he would have to clean up. He looked at the unicorn. "This is entirely your fault, you know."
The unicorn whinnied.
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Sherlock simply didn't understand why the damned things didn't go harass someone else who lived some boorish life where they wouldn't get in the way.
He hadn't always been followed by unicorns, it's not like this was a regular thing.
It had been the end of a relatively simple case, and John and Sherlock caught a taxi home. After the cab pulled up to Baker Street, Sherlock had slipped gracefully out of the cab and approached the door of 221B, reaching into his pocket to nimbly pull out the keys when John called his name.
"What is it, John, can't you see-" Sherlock spun around only to hit something hard, feeling it pressing into his cheek. His eyes slowly moved towards the affronted cheek, finding the source of the pressure against his face. A long white spiral horn, not unlike a narwhal's, was very much connected to the forehead of a large white horse standing with its head bowed in submission. Sherlock stared.
Somewhere behind the unicorn, John and the cabbie were gaping, halfway through exchanging money.
"A unicorn. A legitimate, corporeal unicorn is poking me in the face with its horn and it. Is. Mocking. Me," Sherlock spat out, staring the thing dead in its beady eyes.
John got over his initial shock to move forward and touch the unicorn's flank. It shied away, trotting a few feet away from John before returning to Sherlock and whinnying.
John shrugged. "Well, it doesn't seem to like me. Wonder why..." He trailed off awkwardly, glancing at Sherlock with a surprised expression.
Sherlock hissed darkly under his breath. "Not a word. Not a single word."
And with that he swiveled around jerkily, fitting the key into the lock and twisting it at speeds previously unknown to man. He then pulled the door open just enough to slip through, slamming it behind him.
John swore. "Sherlock, I swear to god if you leave me locked ou-"
"FUCK!"
The door swung open again, Sherlock elbowing it shut, flattening himself against it with arms akimbo. His chest heaved with heavy breathing, and his eyes were wide and disturbed.
"They're inside the flat."
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John shook his head, laughing slightly. Sherlock couldn't be serious. "I'm sorry, they're what?"
Sherlock hissed angrily, still pressed up against the door. "I already told you, they're inside the flat."
John sighed. "Oh for god's sake. Let me get into the flat, Sherlock."
Warily, Sherlock moved aside. John strided up to the door, pulling it open as he walked bravely into the unknown.
A unicorn stood awkwardly half-way up the stairs, looking very much in danger of falling over as it peered down at John. John looked at it.
"Well go on, shoo. You're in the way," he told the unicorn. "We do need to get through here, you know."
The unicorn blinked a few times before whinnying slightly. It slowly shimmered out of existence, leaving behind naught but a few sparkles and an odd patch of wildflowers growing on the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson would not be pleased.
John called back over his shoulder, motioning Sherlock into the apartment. "It's safe now, princess, you can come in."
Sherlock stalked in angrily, snapping aggressively.
"It was mocking me, John, mocking me. It's not even supposed to exist, but it's growing flowers in our flat and it is following me. Do you know what that means, John?"
John shrugged mildly, pulling his coat off as he stepped over the wildflowers carefully. "I think it means we'll have some very interesting company over the next few days."
Sherlock stomped up the stairs, grinding the heel of his shoe into an innocent daisy sprouting from the carpeting. "It means that a group of mythical creatures has decided to stalk me because I haven't been bothered to engage in sexual intercourse. It means a nuisance, John. I don't think you fully comprehend the severity of the situation."
John paused. "Sherlock. You're being followed around by a horse with a horn on its head. It's not going to be that bad."
Sherlock threw his hands up into the air, stalking over to the couch and landing on it with a practiced flop of boneless grace. "For god's sake, think, John, use the matter lodged in your cranium for once. This is an unexpected change, you know he is going to visit."
John hung up his coat. "Your brother is not the worst thing in the world, underhanded and slimy though he is."
Sherlock heaved a tremendous sigh, wriggling slightly in his prone position. "It's him combined with the horses. Despicable creatures, they're dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle."
John stepped around the rat-trap experiment and grabbed the kettle, wandering over to the kitchen to fetch some water. "Your brother or horses?"
Sherlock nodded. "Yes."
"I see."
"Indeed."
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