FILL: Testing, testingcaffienekittyAugust 10 2010, 20:08:44 UTC
Heh, heh, heh. ;-D
***Spoilers for 1.03***
Watson opened the fridge again. The head stared back at him. Or rather stared at the third button of his cardigan, since the man's eyes were hardly wide open anymore.
Severed bits of anatomy in the fridge were always a shock at first, but Watson had been to medical college. He reverted to the old habits of wrapping everything tightly and keeping it on upper shelves. A drip tray above the crisper should do for now. He made a mental note to see if there were severed-head-sized Tupperware containers as he lined the fridge bottom with bacofoil.
Sherlock barely glanced over.
-
He didn't know why Sherlock did that. Got him to look at something when he already knew everything about it. To feel superior, John supposed. He set himself to examining the shoes, not seeing that he was in turn being examined.
-
There was a moment, a cold moment, when Sherlock saw him at the pool, as John spoke Moriarty's first words... That look. He'd recall it later, after everything. It was the look of a teacher at school, having caught a favourite pupil cheating; not disappointed in his pupil, but disappointed in his own inability to see the deception in front of him. He'd thought John might have been Moriarty all along.
A flash of a look, gone even before the explosives were revealed; perhaps when Sherlock realised that, pool or no pool, Moriarty certainly wouldn't be wearing an anorak.
When John had tackled Moriarty, explosives and all, and Sherlock later said it was good, John felt like he'd finally passed a test.
--- (That's it, 'filled' in a rush, may edit if I repost.)
***Spoilers for 1.03***
Watson opened the fridge again. The head stared back at him. Or rather stared at the third button of his cardigan, since the man's eyes were hardly wide open anymore.
Severed bits of anatomy in the fridge were always a shock at first, but Watson had been to medical college. He reverted to the old habits of wrapping everything tightly and keeping it on upper shelves. A drip tray above the crisper should do for now. He made a mental note to see if there were severed-head-sized Tupperware containers as he lined the fridge bottom with bacofoil.
Sherlock barely glanced over.
-
He didn't know why Sherlock did that. Got him to look at something when he already knew everything about it. To feel superior, John supposed. He set himself to examining the shoes, not seeing that he was in turn being examined.
-
There was a moment, a cold moment, when Sherlock saw him at the pool, as John spoke Moriarty's first words... That look. He'd recall it later, after everything. It was the look of a teacher at school, having caught a favourite pupil cheating; not disappointed in his pupil, but disappointed in his own inability to see the deception in front of him. He'd thought John might have been Moriarty all along.
A flash of a look, gone even before the explosives were revealed; perhaps when Sherlock realised that, pool or no pool, Moriarty certainly wouldn't be wearing an anorak.
When John had tackled Moriarty, explosives and all, and Sherlock later said it was good, John felt like he'd finally passed a test.
---
(That's it, 'filled' in a rush, may edit if I repost.)
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Oh, John. <3
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