Sherlock Fic - 'Nail gun'
Title: Nail gun
Author: TorchwoodAus
Rating: G
Wordcount: 413
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Warnings: None
Summary: Sherlock's been a nightmare for the past fortnight but none of that really compares to what John finds this time...
John plodded steadily up the stairs to 221B, shifting the shopping bags in his hand as he dreaded entering the flat. Sherlock hadn’t had a case in over a fortnight and was making sure that John suffered every moment of it along with him. Shrieking violin solos, loud explosions and the destruction of everything not nailed down had John nearly at his wits end, he himself had called Lestrade begging for something, anything to distract Sherlock.
None of that prepared him for what he was met with when he entered the flat.
“Afternoon John,” Sherlock greeted, he was curled up on the floor in his dressing gown, violin in hand, his mood jovial compared to the past few weeks of hell, “give me my patches.”
John let the shopping hit the floor as he stared, opened mouthed, at the scene before him.
“Sherlock, how….?”
“Hm, what?” Sherlock looked up from plucking idly at the strings of his violin and followed John’s gaze, “Oh, nails.”
“I was only gone half an hour,” he said weakly, “how the hell did you do all this in half an hour?”
“Nail gun,” his answers grew shorter and sharper as he grew bored with the conversation, he picked up his bow from among the mess on the floor and looked it over with an expert eye. “I need my patches John.”
“Oh grab your own bloody patches; you seem able enough if this,” he gestured around him, “is anything to go by.” He picked the shopping bags up again and placed them on the counter.
“Has Mrs. Hudson been up yet?”
“It’s Tuesday John,” Sherlock said with a tone that tacked on the end of his sentence ‘idiot’.
Mrs. Hudson visited Mrs. Turner on Tuesday for afternoon tea; John preferred not to think about what they probably talked about.
“You’re going to have to put it all back before she sees it, not to mention it’s going to make life difficult.” He extracted the teabags from the shopping bag and, after a moment of searching, located the kettle.
“Life, ha, life is dull and I was bored.” Came Sherlock’s predictable reply, slowly slipping back into his usual depressive mood. He drew the bow once across the strings, producing a single sorrowful note before resuming his inspection of it.
John rolled his eyes,
“Nail gunning all our furniture to the ceiling is not an acceptable way to deal with boredom, Sherlock.”
Sherlock didn’t dignify that with a response.
A/N: So what did you think? It was inspired by a line in this fic:
http://lamb-fic.livejournal.com/16245.html (NSFW), my mind seemed to just take it and run with it. Hope you enjoyed it :)