Sitting Sherlock --Part 1
He had been sulking for 31 hours. And for Sherlock, sulking meant stomping around the flat and giving John the silent treatment and plenty of glares. John supposed it was more torturous to Sherlock than himself; he rather enjoyed the silence. It allowed him time to focus and tidy up the flat until it was at least presentable, and gave him the quiet he needed to post a few blog entries he’d meant to put up weeks ago.
Of course, when Sherlock realized that John seemed to prefer this new moping silence, he found ways of making it the unpleasant experience he intended. He practiced his violin at ungodly hours right outside John’s bedroom and rigged the telly so that it would only play children’s programs. John had been obviously irritated but retreated to Mrs. Hudson’s to watch his ridiculous soaps. However, before going to the landlady’s, John had left the telly running with a note posted on the side that said he was glad to see Sherlock doing his part in preparing for their guests next week.
John knew better. Of course John knew better, Sherlock would not have tolerated his as a companion if John hadn’t been intelligent. But Sherlock still appreciated the fact that John was feeling brazen enough to try and match wits. He’d loose horrendously, but the game would still be fun.
“You’ve been sending texts!”
“I have been known to do that, yes.”
“From my phone!”
“Don’t be silly. Your phone is in your hand, you’ve had it all day. Now quit waving it in my face.”
John collapsed onto the chair across from his flat mate, staring down at the glowing screen. His sent message folder was empty, and he had taken his phone to work. Yet that afternoon, Sarah had barged into his office demanding an explanation. Yes they had been dating for some time, but sending these sorts of messages was just childish. And rude. And how did he have the gall to send such things when he was supposedly with a patient at the moment.
It had taken a good twenty minutes before John had managed to convince Sarah he was innocent of the crime and that somehow his dear detective must have rigged a way to send them so it seemed he had done it. By the time he had finally gotten Sarah from his office, his phone was ringing with an angry call from his sister.
John looked up from his mobile at Sherlock who was feigning disinterest. “How did you send those texts, it said they came from my phone! And when did you even get Harry’s number?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I memorized your contact list months ago.”
John sighed and slid his phone back into his pocket, leaning back into the couch with arms crossed. “Well it was a nice try, but the kids are still coming. Tomorrow.”
“You’ve already made it clear you don’t even like your sister. It’s absurd to do someone a favor if you don’t even like them.”
“She’s still family, you are suppose to do favors for your family. Although considering how you and your brother act, you wouldn’t know much about that. Besides, just because I have a rocky relationship with my sister doesn’t mean I don’t like my niece and nephew. They are actually quite charming children.”
“How charming can they be if I didn’t even know you had them?”
“I…I have pictures of them in my room, Sherlock! And don’t act like you haven’t seen those photos, I know you’ve been snooping through my things on many occasions.”
Sherlock didn’t bother to object to the accusation. John continued, “It’s just for a few weeks, while Harry and Clara try to patch things up. It’d be great if those two could get back together instead of having to ship the kids back and forth every month.”
Sherlock obviously didn’t care much about John’s views on the matter as he scooped up his violin and began plucking at the strings. John fell silent for several moments. “As soon as they are gone, you can bring back all of your experiment’s from Molly’s lab. I’m sure you can handle not having body parts everywhere. I’ll even let you keep that cadaver in the bathtub like you wanted.”
Sherlock seemed to brighten at that prospect., although he was careful not to let it show. John noted the switch though of the violin’s noise from minor to major chords, it meant he had won the argument. “But no experiments while they are here. No body parts. No growing mold in the cupboard. No shooting guns. And definitely, under no circumstances, are you allowed to try any sort of experiment or tests on them. Please, Sherlock, I’d like to return them to their mothers in the same condition they arrived.”
“Oh, alright. I’ll be good, so stop looking so worried.”
John grinned and sprang up from the chair. “Excellent. I’ll go make some tea, hm? Are you hungry? Maybe I’ll start supper.” Sherlock watched his flat mate buzzing around, obviously pleased with himself. Sherlock continued to pluck away at the violin strings, slower and more thoughtful. He supposed he did owe it to John. The doctor was one of very few people able to tolerate him, and would even go so far as to call him a friend. While he might be hesitant to do any favors for his family, the same could not be said of his friends.
“Sherlock!”
The consulting detective stilled the strings, “Hm?”
“There are toes in the drawer!”
“I suppose there are.”
Favors could only go so far.
Of course, when Sherlock realized that John seemed to prefer this new moping silence, he found ways of making it the unpleasant experience he intended. He practiced his violin at ungodly hours right outside John’s bedroom and rigged the telly so that it would only play children’s programs. John had been obviously irritated but retreated to Mrs. Hudson’s to watch his ridiculous soaps. However, before going to the landlady’s, John had left the telly running with a note posted on the side that said he was glad to see Sherlock doing his part in preparing for their guests next week.
John knew better. Of course John knew better, Sherlock would not have tolerated his as a companion if John hadn’t been intelligent. But Sherlock still appreciated the fact that John was feeling brazen enough to try and match wits. He’d loose horrendously, but the game would still be fun.
“You’ve been sending texts!”
“I have been known to do that, yes.”
“From my phone!”
“Don’t be silly. Your phone is in your hand, you’ve had it all day. Now quit waving it in my face.”
John collapsed onto the chair across from his flat mate, staring down at the glowing screen. His sent message folder was empty, and he had taken his phone to work. Yet that afternoon, Sarah had barged into his office demanding an explanation. Yes they had been dating for some time, but sending these sorts of messages was just childish. And rude. And how did he have the gall to send such things when he was supposedly with a patient at the moment.
It had taken a good twenty minutes before John had managed to convince Sarah he was innocent of the crime and that somehow his dear detective must have rigged a way to send them so it seemed he had done it. By the time he had finally gotten Sarah from his office, his phone was ringing with an angry call from his sister.
John looked up from his mobile at Sherlock who was feigning disinterest. “How did you send those texts, it said they came from my phone! And when did you even get Harry’s number?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I memorized your contact list months ago.”
John sighed and slid his phone back into his pocket, leaning back into the couch with arms crossed. “Well it was a nice try, but the kids are still coming. Tomorrow.”
“You’ve already made it clear you don’t even like your sister. It’s absurd to do someone a favor if you don’t even like them.”
“She’s still family, you are suppose to do favors for your family. Although considering how you and your brother act, you wouldn’t know much about that. Besides, just because I have a rocky relationship with my sister doesn’t mean I don’t like my niece and nephew. They are actually quite charming children.”
“How charming can they be if I didn’t even know you had them?”
“I…I have pictures of them in my room, Sherlock! And don’t act like you haven’t seen those photos, I know you’ve been snooping through my things on many occasions.”
Sherlock didn’t bother to object to the accusation. John continued, “It’s just for a few weeks, while Harry and Clara try to patch things up. It’d be great if those two could get back together instead of having to ship the kids back and forth every month.”
Sherlock obviously didn’t care much about John’s views on the matter as he scooped up his violin and began plucking at the strings. John fell silent for several moments. “As soon as they are gone, you can bring back all of your experiment’s from Molly’s lab. I’m sure you can handle not having body parts everywhere. I’ll even let you keep that cadaver in the bathtub like you wanted.”
Sherlock seemed to brighten at that prospect., although he was careful not to let it show. John noted the switch though of the violin’s noise from minor to major chords, it meant he had won the argument. “But no experiments while they are here. No body parts. No growing mold in the cupboard. No shooting guns. And definitely, under no circumstances, are you allowed to try any sort of experiment or tests on them. Please, Sherlock, I’d like to return them to their mothers in the same condition they arrived.”
“Oh, alright. I’ll be good, so stop looking so worried.”
John grinned and sprang up from the chair. “Excellent. I’ll go make some tea, hm? Are you hungry? Maybe I’ll start supper.” Sherlock watched his flat mate buzzing around, obviously pleased with himself. Sherlock continued to pluck away at the violin strings, slower and more thoughtful. He supposed he did owe it to John. The doctor was one of very few people able to tolerate him, and would even go so far as to call him a friend. While he might be hesitant to do any favors for his family, the same could not be said of his friends.
“Sherlock!”
The consulting detective stilled the strings, “Hm?”
“There are toes in the drawer!”
“I suppose there are.”
Favors could only go so far.