Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
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Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
"A family thing?" repeated Sherlock, "You say that as if it's hereditary...oh my god, it is."
"The criminal," reminded John, not wishing to get into the nitty gritty of his family's history.
He looked rather pale, a light sweat on his brow, hair plastered to his face. Sherlock scanned the greenhouse once more.
"Gone," he said simply, "I can only hope Lestrade and his men followed my directions. Come, we are going home."
..........
John had no way to tell of what Sherlock was going to do next. Once home, would he conduct various experiments? Call the press? Throw him out?
His legs throbbed mercilessly, each step more painful than the last, and the world was becoming very dizzy, spinning around him like that. It had to have been the water - god knows what was in it. He just needed to flush it out, make it clear. Considerately, Sherlock had made a quick stop to where Lestrade and his colleagues had arrested the thief, snagging one of those insufferable shock blankets. He was glad for the warmth though.
However, Sherlock was silent on the way home.
John didn't want to know what he was thinking.
*********
Yeah, ended up filling my own prompt. Whoops. Sorry if it downright sucks.
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John downed his third glass of water in just as many minutes, refilling it. Silvery grey eyes observed him from across the table, head resting on intertwined fingers.
"Amazing. Simply incredible," he muttered, "When you're dry, you look completely human."
"I am human," snapped John, in between drinking.
"Not completely."
"Mostly human."
"Half."
"Three-quarters."
Sherlock paused, and John thought he'd won for a moment.
"If you divide it that way, then yes...oh by the way, how do you keep your eyes open?"
John growled. Sherlock paid the noise no heed.
"Are you like a frog, or a penguin? Or perhaps you have a film on your ey-"
"I don't know!"
He slammed the glass down, drawing the blanket closer to his shoulders.
"Take a shower."
"I don't want to," said John.
"Because it hurts," stated Sherlock, "It hurts more than your shoulder on bad days. Hurts more than having the side of your head split open."
"Wrong. I just don't want you taking the opportunity of the broken lock to spy on me."
Sherlock laughed. Then, his face went serious.
"It's not spying if you let me."
"No Sherlock," said John firmly, "You are not watching my bathing techniques."
There were many things John allowed Sherlock to get away with. Many, many, many things. Like the scratches in the dining room table, and the fingers in the microwave, and the head in the fridge. He let him tie his wrists together with a certain type of rope to test to the markings it made, he let him hijack his blog, and generally be an obnoxious git to hi-
"Sociopathic git," corrected Sherlock, "John, you really must stop thinking aloud."
- fine then, generally be a sociopathic, obnoxious git to him. However, he was not going to give in.
"You're going to give in."
"Would you stop listening to me think!"
"I really would like to see how you bathe, but if that cannot be achieved, then at least tell me how you've do it."
John was silent, and he turned on his heel to leave the damned kitchen with the puzzle-hungry detective, but that same detective stopped him. In his curiosity, he revealed a childlike innocence to the request.
"You turn the shower on, but you put the plug in the bathtub. However, before that, you prepare all that you need - that strange, salty soap, which I now believe it is a salt compound, useless for normal bathing, but excellent for you - and carefully put your back in first. Once that is achieved, you swing your legs in, and by then you're thoroughly soaked, so you change. That makes you nauseous, so you wait a moment, letting the water run over you..."
He paused.
"Am I right?" he demanded, "John, am I right?"
"Yes, you are correct," sighed the elder man, stepping back into the kitchen.
Sherlock clapped his hands gleefully, and continued, "So you bathe. And then you stretch for the shower tap, sometimes missing it and making it too hot - I can hear you cursing on occasion - but turning it off. Then you let the water drain and once it's drained you dry yourself off."
"I actually lift myself onto the edge of the bathtub to dry."
Sherlock's face twisted into one of annoyance for missing something so obvious to him.
"And when you dry, you change back."
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