Oblivious 4/? 561 words
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"Sherlock!" John calls as he shrugs on his jacket by the front door. "I'm going out for groceries. I'll be back later." He reaches for the door, opens it, but as he steps through and goes to shut it behind him he hears the pounding of feet.
"Wait, wait!" Sherlock calls out.
John makes a useless attempt at closing the door, but releases it easily when the door handle is pulled away from him. "Yeah?" he asks, turning to look at Sherlock.
Breathless, his hair hanging around his head like a halo, Sherlock eyes him with a wild gaze. "You have to wait. Just--wait," he huffs, nearly breathless.
John raises an eyebrow. "I'm not going to Bart's," he offers. "Just shopping. You know, for food."
Sherlock nods jerkily like a bobble head. "Yes, but it's--it's urgent. That I go with you."
John tilts his head, curious, but accepting. "All right then," he agrees. "Get your jacket then."
Sherlock strides for the stairs, then takes them two at a time as he rushes for his room. Within moments he's pounding back down them, coat wide open and scarf thrown carelessly around his neck. He nearly rushes to John, who merely raises another eyebrow in disbelief.
"I'm ready. Are you ready? Of course you are, let's be off." He moves to walk by John, who grabs his sleeve and tugs him back.
"Sherlock," John chides, "Don't you need shoes?"
Sherlock pauses, not bothering to pull his arm from John's grasp, and looks down at his bare feet. "So I do," he agrees, flicking a glance back at John. "A moment to put a pair on?"
John sighs. "I suppose. But if I find out that you're tagging along to harass two year-olds..."
Sherlock scoffs as rummages about the den, in search of his elusive shoes. "Of course not, John. How banal. I'm above...what would you call it? Stealing candy from a baby, yes?"
John laughed, watching Sherlock as he shoves on a pair of loafers. "No need to rush," he assures his flatmate. "I won't hurry off without you. Would you like a moment to fix your coat?"
Sherlock fixes him with an intense gaze, a fiery one that makes John feel like he's missing something, then purses his lips in agreement. "Yes, thank you."
John watches Sherlock loop the scarf around the neck, and tuck it in as he buttons up his fancy coat. As the slender and white fingers flit up the hem he ponders that gaze, then shoves it away. "Just don't break anything," he warns. "I haven't got any extra money this month for food. I've got barely any, to be honest."
"Nonsense," Sherlock announces as he pushes past John and clatters down the stairs. The doctor shuts the door with a sigh, but readily locks it, following the mad detective at a slower pace. At the bottom of the stares, Sherlock yanks the door out to the real world open and turns to grin broadly at John. "Mycroft is paying this month, of course. If he's going to insist upon giving me these hunks of plastic, I might as well use them."
John stops on the stairs, hand on the railing, and hesitantly smiles. "Does that mean I can buy crap food?"
Sherlock smirks, not unkindly. "The most expensive you could possibly want."
John smiles outright. "Brilliant."
SM
"Sherlock!" John calls as he shrugs on his jacket by the front door. "I'm going out for groceries. I'll be back later." He reaches for the door, opens it, but as he steps through and goes to shut it behind him he hears the pounding of feet.
"Wait, wait!" Sherlock calls out.
John makes a useless attempt at closing the door, but releases it easily when the door handle is pulled away from him. "Yeah?" he asks, turning to look at Sherlock.
Breathless, his hair hanging around his head like a halo, Sherlock eyes him with a wild gaze. "You have to wait. Just--wait," he huffs, nearly breathless.
John raises an eyebrow. "I'm not going to Bart's," he offers. "Just shopping. You know, for food."
Sherlock nods jerkily like a bobble head. "Yes, but it's--it's urgent. That I go with you."
John tilts his head, curious, but accepting. "All right then," he agrees. "Get your jacket then."
Sherlock strides for the stairs, then takes them two at a time as he rushes for his room. Within moments he's pounding back down them, coat wide open and scarf thrown carelessly around his neck. He nearly rushes to John, who merely raises another eyebrow in disbelief.
"I'm ready. Are you ready? Of course you are, let's be off." He moves to walk by John, who grabs his sleeve and tugs him back.
"Sherlock," John chides, "Don't you need shoes?"
Sherlock pauses, not bothering to pull his arm from John's grasp, and looks down at his bare feet. "So I do," he agrees, flicking a glance back at John. "A moment to put a pair on?"
John sighs. "I suppose. But if I find out that you're tagging along to harass two year-olds..."
Sherlock scoffs as rummages about the den, in search of his elusive shoes. "Of course not, John. How banal. I'm above...what would you call it? Stealing candy from a baby, yes?"
John laughed, watching Sherlock as he shoves on a pair of loafers. "No need to rush," he assures his flatmate. "I won't hurry off without you. Would you like a moment to fix your coat?"
Sherlock fixes him with an intense gaze, a fiery one that makes John feel like he's missing something, then purses his lips in agreement. "Yes, thank you."
John watches Sherlock loop the scarf around the neck, and tuck it in as he buttons up his fancy coat. As the slender and white fingers flit up the hem he ponders that gaze, then shoves it away. "Just don't break anything," he warns. "I haven't got any extra money this month for food. I've got barely any, to be honest."
"Nonsense," Sherlock announces as he pushes past John and clatters down the stairs. The doctor shuts the door with a sigh, but readily locks it, following the mad detective at a slower pace. At the bottom of the stares, Sherlock yanks the door out to the real world open and turns to grin broadly at John. "Mycroft is paying this month, of course. If he's going to insist upon giving me these hunks of plastic, I might as well use them."
John stops on the stairs, hand on the railing, and hesitantly smiles. "Does that mean I can buy crap food?"
Sherlock smirks, not unkindly. "The most expensive you could possibly want."
John smiles outright. "Brilliant."
SM