[fic] Curiosity
Title: Curiosity
Author: chibinecco
Universe/Series: BBC
Rating: Gen/G
Word count: ~500
Genre: Fluff, humor, pre-slash
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Sherlock watches something important to John at his request.
Notes: beta and brit-pick courtesy of freak_in_corner
"Sherlock! Aren't you coming?" John called down the hall, Telly paused as he tried to coax his recalcitrant flatmate out of his hole.
"No! I have no interest in the Olympics now, nor did I ever. Stop trying to distract me. I have real work to do," Sherlock called back, he had no intention of indulging John's obsession with the physical accomplishments of others, especially when they followed such arbitrary conditions for success.
"This isn't the Olympics you oaf. Now, get out here. You should see this."
Sherlock sighed, greatly put-upon, shuffling out of bed and emerging his tousled head through the door. "I highly doubt I will find anything of merit whatsoever from this."
"I don't care if you delete it as soon as it's over, you should see it, just once. Now, get out here."
"It's bad enough you've stolen my couch, now you're dragging me away from my work."
"Don't give me that, we both know you're just as bored down there as you would be out here."
Sherlock snorted, plopping morosely into the couch.
John settled down beside him and hit play.
"Big things have been happening here in London the last week, but we're not the only ones up to our ears in excitement. Last night, the National Air and Space Association, United States of America's very own NASA, began the latest attempt to land a motorized vehicle on the surface of Mars."
Sherlock groaned. "John, I don't-"
"Shh, just watch."
"Let's see how they planned to do it."
John inched forward to the edge of his seat, riveted. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but remained silent to the end of the clip.
"Can I go?"
"No, hush."
"That's the idea anyway. Now, did they make it?"
"Come on, come on..."
"You don't already know?"
"Shh."
"John, this happened hours ago."
"Shh!" John swatted a hand at Sherlock, leaning closer to the telly, as if his proximity could will a favorable result.
The rover touched safely, and the scientists on screen erupted with cheers and applause. John joined them, jumping to his feet in excitement with a look on his face.
"We did it, Sherlock! We landed on Mars."
"We did no such thing, John. We just watched-" Sherlock paused, seeing the disappointment at his lack of concern peeking in through the exasperation. "We, the human race, have successfully landed a craft on another planet."
"Yes!"
"That's.... cool?"
"Yes!"
Sherlock watched, seated on the couch, as John jumped about the flat, babbling about everything they'd just watched. Something about missing a moon landing. Sherlock had no idea what that was about.
Regardless, this experience was useless. There weren't likely to be murders on Mars anytime soon. The presence of a robot toddling about on another planet millions of kilometers away made no difference to him or his cases.
Sherlock didn't think he'd ever delete the look of joy on John's face, or the mundane events that put it there.
Author: chibinecco
Universe/Series: BBC
Rating: Gen/G
Word count: ~500
Genre: Fluff, humor, pre-slash
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Sherlock watches something important to John at his request.
Notes: beta and brit-pick courtesy of freak_in_corner
"Sherlock! Aren't you coming?" John called down the hall, Telly paused as he tried to coax his recalcitrant flatmate out of his hole.
"No! I have no interest in the Olympics now, nor did I ever. Stop trying to distract me. I have real work to do," Sherlock called back, he had no intention of indulging John's obsession with the physical accomplishments of others, especially when they followed such arbitrary conditions for success.
"This isn't the Olympics you oaf. Now, get out here. You should see this."
Sherlock sighed, greatly put-upon, shuffling out of bed and emerging his tousled head through the door. "I highly doubt I will find anything of merit whatsoever from this."
"I don't care if you delete it as soon as it's over, you should see it, just once. Now, get out here."
"It's bad enough you've stolen my couch, now you're dragging me away from my work."
"Don't give me that, we both know you're just as bored down there as you would be out here."
Sherlock snorted, plopping morosely into the couch.
John settled down beside him and hit play.
"Big things have been happening here in London the last week, but we're not the only ones up to our ears in excitement. Last night, the National Air and Space Association, United States of America's very own NASA, began the latest attempt to land a motorized vehicle on the surface of Mars."
Sherlock groaned. "John, I don't-"
"Shh, just watch."
"Let's see how they planned to do it."
John inched forward to the edge of his seat, riveted. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but remained silent to the end of the clip.
"Can I go?"
"No, hush."
"That's the idea anyway. Now, did they make it?"
"Come on, come on..."
"You don't already know?"
"Shh."
"John, this happened hours ago."
"Shh!" John swatted a hand at Sherlock, leaning closer to the telly, as if his proximity could will a favorable result.
The rover touched safely, and the scientists on screen erupted with cheers and applause. John joined them, jumping to his feet in excitement with a look on his face.
"We did it, Sherlock! We landed on Mars."
"We did no such thing, John. We just watched-" Sherlock paused, seeing the disappointment at his lack of concern peeking in through the exasperation. "We, the human race, have successfully landed a craft on another planet."
"Yes!"
"That's.... cool?"
"Yes!"
Sherlock watched, seated on the couch, as John jumped about the flat, babbling about everything they'd just watched. Something about missing a moon landing. Sherlock had no idea what that was about.
Regardless, this experience was useless. There weren't likely to be murders on Mars anytime soon. The presence of a robot toddling about on another planet millions of kilometers away made no difference to him or his cases.
Sherlock didn't think he'd ever delete the look of joy on John's face, or the mundane events that put it there.