Muffins - a story
Answer to he prompt:
You move into the basement flat at 221 Baker Street.
What would be your honest impressions of your neighbors. Would Sherlock be able to deduct anything embarrassing about you.
MUFFINS
The self-baked muffins turned out to be way too sweet as for Margaret's taste, and, unsurprisingly, smelled horrendously of ammonia (she forgot to buy baking powder, and once in her lifetime this stupid chemisry set came in handy), so after a minute of deliberation she decided to make somebody else happy with this toothnumbing ammonia sweetness. Mrs Hudson, even if way too nosy, was nice enough to get something edible.
However her neighbours from flat B, who listened to violin in the middle of the night and made a racket at unhumanly early hours, did not. And she didn't introduce herself yet in this annoying american fahion she wanted to apply in her new, british life. And if the get an ammonia poisoning, well, than maybe those shouts and explosions would stop... Yes, that was a plan.
'Hello! I'm Margaret and I live in flat C, nice to meet you!' she chripped, shoving the tray of ammonia-muffins in the hands of small, blonde man in a doctor's gown who opened the door of flat B. 'I've brought you some self-made muffins!'
'That's nice, please, come in' said the man letting her in. 'Sorry for the mess, but Sherlock, my flatmate, has a different standards of order. Sit down, no, on the other armchair, this one is contaminated with... something. DOn't ask, if you value your santity. I'm John, by the way. Tea?'
'Sanity is overrated' she answered, examining closely the contaminated armchair.
'You're student of constructions, who wants to be a writer. Your dog died recently and you have sexuality crisis. You consider yourself intelligent' the tall, handsome man that suddenly stood up from behind the sofa made the last word sound like an insult. 'But you are only above average. You love literature, history and rock music, but you try to be educated in almost every topic. Boring.'
And he dropped back behind the sofa, taking a cup from John's hands. The smaller man smiled warmly, handing her a steaming cup of tea.
'Don't mind him, he's a bit unsociable. So, constructions, is it any fun?'
'And is there any particular reason why he should lie naked behind the sofa? Hey, I know that book, "Pathology revised"!' answered she, mentally cataloguing books in their flat. After several seconds she made a connection between ane naked man, and another, dressed as a doctor. 'Oh. OH. Sorry, I'm... interrupting something, ain't I? I mean I'll go now, sorry!'
'No, no, no! I'm dressed like this as en experiment' started John, what didn't really improve the situation, as told him the smirk from behind the sofa and Margaret's horrified expression. 'Forget it. We're just flatmates okay? Not partners, not friends with benefits. Flat-mates.'
'Fatmates. Sure. I mean, whatever rocks your boat, right? Wait. Rows? Rocks? Was it even a boat? Oh god, it's Star Trek again in my head.' she answered, deep in thought, still analizing the titles of books scattered around. The naked man stood up suddenly.
'John' he goaned in frustration,'The earring!'
'What ? No. You didn't! You didn't FORGET the bloody earring! It's EVIDENCE, Sherlock!'
'Oh course I didn't forget it, I just... dropped it. Somewhere. It wasn't important at the time being... It must be on the floor somewhere; help us, will you, Margaret? and you are not lesbian, if you are wondering'
'Looking at you now can just make me one' she sneered, but obidiently dropped on her knees, combing through the carpet next to John in doctor's attire and naked Sherlock; several minutes later they were tangled together in something resembling twister without the board, and of course there was no sign of any earring.
'I just noticed I'm on the floor, with two strangers, one of with is naked' stated the girl.
'Your observation skills leave much to be desired' sneered Sherlock and she showed him her toungue. Of course this was a moment when into the room came a silver-haired guy in long coat, followed by several policemen.
'Bloody hell, what is going on here!'
'Oh, another drug bust?' asked John untangling himself. 'Please, don't open the microwave, it's full of kineys and semen'
'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' said Margaret resolutly.
---
There is more truth in this, than I want to admit...
You move into the basement flat at 221 Baker Street.
What would be your honest impressions of your neighbors. Would Sherlock be able to deduct anything embarrassing about you.
MUFFINS
The self-baked muffins turned out to be way too sweet as for Margaret's taste, and, unsurprisingly, smelled horrendously of ammonia (she forgot to buy baking powder, and once in her lifetime this stupid chemisry set came in handy), so after a minute of deliberation she decided to make somebody else happy with this toothnumbing ammonia sweetness. Mrs Hudson, even if way too nosy, was nice enough to get something edible.
However her neighbours from flat B, who listened to violin in the middle of the night and made a racket at unhumanly early hours, did not. And she didn't introduce herself yet in this annoying american fahion she wanted to apply in her new, british life. And if the get an ammonia poisoning, well, than maybe those shouts and explosions would stop... Yes, that was a plan.
'Hello! I'm Margaret and I live in flat C, nice to meet you!' she chripped, shoving the tray of ammonia-muffins in the hands of small, blonde man in a doctor's gown who opened the door of flat B. 'I've brought you some self-made muffins!'
'That's nice, please, come in' said the man letting her in. 'Sorry for the mess, but Sherlock, my flatmate, has a different standards of order. Sit down, no, on the other armchair, this one is contaminated with... something. DOn't ask, if you value your santity. I'm John, by the way. Tea?'
'Sanity is overrated' she answered, examining closely the contaminated armchair.
'You're student of constructions, who wants to be a writer. Your dog died recently and you have sexuality crisis. You consider yourself intelligent' the tall, handsome man that suddenly stood up from behind the sofa made the last word sound like an insult. 'But you are only above average. You love literature, history and rock music, but you try to be educated in almost every topic. Boring.'
And he dropped back behind the sofa, taking a cup from John's hands. The smaller man smiled warmly, handing her a steaming cup of tea.
'Don't mind him, he's a bit unsociable. So, constructions, is it any fun?'
'And is there any particular reason why he should lie naked behind the sofa? Hey, I know that book, "Pathology revised"!' answered she, mentally cataloguing books in their flat. After several seconds she made a connection between ane naked man, and another, dressed as a doctor. 'Oh. OH. Sorry, I'm... interrupting something, ain't I? I mean I'll go now, sorry!'
'No, no, no! I'm dressed like this as en experiment' started John, what didn't really improve the situation, as told him the smirk from behind the sofa and Margaret's horrified expression. 'Forget it. We're just flatmates okay? Not partners, not friends with benefits. Flat-mates.'
'Fatmates. Sure. I mean, whatever rocks your boat, right? Wait. Rows? Rocks? Was it even a boat? Oh god, it's Star Trek again in my head.' she answered, deep in thought, still analizing the titles of books scattered around. The naked man stood up suddenly.
'John' he goaned in frustration,'The earring!'
'What ? No. You didn't! You didn't FORGET the bloody earring! It's EVIDENCE, Sherlock!'
'Oh course I didn't forget it, I just... dropped it. Somewhere. It wasn't important at the time being... It must be on the floor somewhere; help us, will you, Margaret? and you are not lesbian, if you are wondering'
'Looking at you now can just make me one' she sneered, but obidiently dropped on her knees, combing through the carpet next to John in doctor's attire and naked Sherlock; several minutes later they were tangled together in something resembling twister without the board, and of course there was no sign of any earring.
'I just noticed I'm on the floor, with two strangers, one of with is naked' stated the girl.
'Your observation skills leave much to be desired' sneered Sherlock and she showed him her toungue. Of course this was a moment when into the room came a silver-haired guy in long coat, followed by several policemen.
'Bloody hell, what is going on here!'
'Oh, another drug bust?' asked John untangling himself. 'Please, don't open the microwave, it's full of kineys and semen'
'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' said Margaret resolutly.
---
There is more truth in this, than I want to admit...