Disguise, part 6b/?
anonymous
April 27 2011, 01:56:07 UTC
~*~
The next disguise assaults him in the shop. Well... assault is a strong word, because Sherlock-in-disguise doesn't assault him, per se, but it's an assault on the senses, that's for damn sure. Or at least the imagination.
He's holding a shopping basket filled with essentials (milk, beans, eggs, sugar, and 14 tubes of haemorrhoid cream that Sherlock wants for some bizarre research) and he's got his mind in a general state of contentment that's rather a nice change for the moment.
The shop is pleasantly humming with activity. It's mid-afternoon, so a few lanes are open, several customers bagging groceries, but well spread out, and John's enjoying the everyday monotony of it.
A sudden, but not painful, bump startles him and John turns to look behind him.
The customer is taller man, in his early fifties or so, and handsome. He's got dark hair, peppered heavily with grey, and it suits him. He's wearing a long sleeved, thin jumper, tight across his chest (it suits him), and the slightest hint of a belly. He reminds John of DI Lestrade, and John smiles at the man when he apologises.
"Sorry for that, mate. Must not know me own strength."
John grins wider, looks down at his own smaller frame, and says, "Can't say I've confronted that problem myself very often."
The man grins, his eyes almost disappearing.
"I'm John."
"Will."
"Well, Will, best keep your eye on those less fortunately endowed than yourself."
"Willl do, John."
John glances idly down into Will's cart, then at the customer in front of him just swiping her card. He shifts the basket up to his elbow and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Something itches the back of his mind and he looks back into Will's cart.
kumquats, limburger cheese, tinned beets, raw peanuts
That's strange.
"Something wrong?" Will looks curiously at him.
"No, I--" he falters. "You just have a very unique selection of food in your cart."
"I'm a unique bloke," Will says, smiling slowly.
John runs through the list in his mind again. Kumquats -- Harry'd pelted him with them when he was four and she was nine, and he's never eaten another since. Limburger cheese just smells foul; John would never eat it. Tinned beets are about the only vegetable in the world that make him gag. The peanuts, well, John's never got it tested, but he suspects that he has a very mild peanut allergy.
John is a remarkably un-picky eater. Those are almost quite literally the only four foods that he avoids. So for someone to have that exact selection in their cart -- as the only items in the cart -- in the middle of the day, when he's on the way home from his shift...
Snorting a laugh, he looks back up and shakes his head.
"Caught on, have you?" Sherlock smiles at him; John can see that the telltale crinkles at the edges of Sherlock's eyes have been heavily emphasized, but the disguise is almost flawless.
The next disguise assaults him in the shop. Well... assault is a strong word, because Sherlock-in-disguise doesn't assault him, per se, but it's an assault on the senses, that's for damn sure. Or at least the imagination.
He's holding a shopping basket filled with essentials (milk, beans, eggs, sugar, and 14 tubes of haemorrhoid cream that Sherlock wants for some bizarre research) and he's got his mind in a general state of contentment that's rather a nice change for the moment.
The shop is pleasantly humming with activity. It's mid-afternoon, so a few lanes are open, several customers bagging groceries, but well spread out, and John's enjoying the everyday monotony of it.
A sudden, but not painful, bump startles him and John turns to look behind him.
The customer is taller man, in his early fifties or so, and handsome. He's got dark hair, peppered heavily with grey, and it suits him. He's wearing a long sleeved, thin jumper, tight across his chest (it suits him), and the slightest hint of a belly. He reminds John of DI Lestrade, and John smiles at the man when he apologises.
"Sorry for that, mate. Must not know me own strength."
John grins wider, looks down at his own smaller frame, and says, "Can't say I've confronted that problem myself very often."
The man grins, his eyes almost disappearing.
"I'm John."
"Will."
"Well, Will, best keep your eye on those less fortunately endowed than yourself."
"Willl do, John."
John glances idly down into Will's cart, then at the customer in front of him just swiping her card. He shifts the basket up to his elbow and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Something itches the back of his mind and he looks back into Will's cart.
kumquats, limburger cheese, tinned beets, raw peanuts
That's strange.
"Something wrong?" Will looks curiously at him.
"No, I--" he falters. "You just have a very unique selection of food in your cart."
"I'm a unique bloke," Will says, smiling slowly.
John runs through the list in his mind again. Kumquats -- Harry'd pelted him with them when he was four and she was nine, and he's never eaten another since. Limburger cheese just smells foul; John would never eat it. Tinned beets are about the only vegetable in the world that make him gag. The peanuts, well, John's never got it tested, but he suspects that he has a very mild peanut allergy.
John is a remarkably un-picky eater. Those are almost quite literally the only four foods that he avoids. So for someone to have that exact selection in their cart -- as the only items in the cart -- in the middle of the day, when he's on the way home from his shift...
Snorting a laugh, he looks back up and shakes his head.
"Caught on, have you?" Sherlock smiles at him; John can see that the telltale crinkles at the edges of Sherlock's eyes have been heavily emphasized, but the disguise is almost flawless.
He looks at Sherlock and rolls his eyes.
"It's like you're not even trying anymore."
~*~
Reply
Leave a comment