It has taken four months, three lectures, two scoldings and one A&E visit to achieve the impossible.
Sherlock is cleaning the house.
Apparently, John accidentally poisoning himself with one of Sherlock’s experiments is all it takes. Sherlock’s still not conducting himself with any graciousness though, acting instead as if John had poisoned himself solely to inconvenience Sherlock. If Sherlock hadn’t spent the entirety of John’s hospital stay worrying himself sick, John might have been insulted. As it is, he knows perfectly well what lies beneath the snide commentary about being beyond little things like housework or categorising his experiments, anyone could have told that bread was poisoned if only they’d paid attention, honestly, John.
John shakes his head at himself and returns his attention to the sandwiches he’s putting together (there is no more poisoned food in the kitchen, Sherlock assures him). There’s something very wrong with him, he’s sure, when he gets poisoned through Sherlock’s carelessness and all he can think is that at least that’s got Sherlock’s pasty arse moving. He’d recovered fine; all’s well.
He knows that this state of affairs cannot possibly last. Sooner or later, Sherlock will get distracted and he’ll go right back to what he used to do. John’s determined to enjoy having a slightly less lethal home while it lasts.
“John! John, look what I found. Old case notes! There’s some fascinating material here, you know, and some truly inspired work. Ah, here’s my analysis on decomposition rates in various media. Come have a look, you never know when you’ll need this sort of knowledge –”
John plates the sandwiches and wonders if anything could possibly rein Sherlock in for good.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-01-17 07:50 am (UTC)It has taken four months, three lectures, two scoldings and one A&E visit to achieve the impossible.
Sherlock is cleaning the house.
Apparently, John accidentally poisoning himself with one of Sherlock’s experiments is all it takes. Sherlock’s still not conducting himself with any graciousness though, acting instead as if John had poisoned himself solely to inconvenience Sherlock. If Sherlock hadn’t spent the entirety of John’s hospital stay worrying himself sick, John might have been insulted. As it is, he knows perfectly well what lies beneath the snide commentary about being beyond little things like housework or categorising his experiments, anyone could have told that bread was poisoned if only they’d paid attention, honestly, John.
John shakes his head at himself and returns his attention to the sandwiches he’s putting together (there is no more poisoned food in the kitchen, Sherlock assures him). There’s something very wrong with him, he’s sure, when he gets poisoned through Sherlock’s carelessness and all he can think is that at least that’s got Sherlock’s pasty arse moving. He’d recovered fine; all’s well.
He knows that this state of affairs cannot possibly last. Sooner or later, Sherlock will get distracted and he’ll go right back to what he used to do. John’s determined to enjoy having a slightly less lethal home while it lasts.
“John! John, look what I found. Old case notes! There’s some fascinating material here, you know, and some truly inspired work. Ah, here’s my analysis on decomposition rates in various media. Come have a look, you never know when you’ll need this sort of knowledge –”
John plates the sandwiches and wonders if anything could possibly rein Sherlock in for good.