Richard Book is Innocent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oxfordtweed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tweedandtinsel2011-02-28 11:22 pm
oxfordtweed) wrote in tweedandtinsel2011-02-28 11:22 pm
There is a Very Good Reason Sherlock Doesn’t do the Shopping
Fandom: Sherlock
Character/s: Holmes, Watson
Word Count: 990
Rating: PG, for innuendo
Summary: Prompt: Say, you bought a new bra, a car battery, olive oil, taco chips, tissues and a length of rope?
Notes/Warnings: Minor spoilers for last week’s Casualty. Not a 5+1 like the prompt asked for, but I don’t think John would have let it happen that many times anyway. >.>
There is a Very Good Reason Sherlock Doesn’t do the Shopping
Sherlock Holmes would do one of two things when he didn’t have a case on: sulk endlessly, or turn everything he could get his hands on into an experiment.
The doctor part of John knew that Sherlock’s manic episodes were the more healthy side of a very unhealthy coin, but the flatmate part of him preferred when Sherlock would sulk for a few days, because then at least the flat would be quiet, and he could get a bit of cleaning done.
Ten days without a case, and the flat was not quiet. There was no cleaning to be done any time in the near future, as far as John could tell, and he was fairly certain that whatever he had found in the kettle that morning would never come out.
The sound of a stack of plates breaking in unison was enough for John’s temper to finally get the best of him.
“Would you stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing right now?” he shouted, pulling himself to his feet.
Sherlock stopped, but only because he seemed to have found the jar of marmite he’d been looking for.
“Why don’t you go out, like a normal person?” John demanded, trying to ignore the mess on the floor that meant they’d be eating out of take away boxes for the next fortnight.
“What do normal people do when they go out?” asked Sherlock. He opened the marmite and peered at it. “Has this gone off?”
John found himself peering at the marmite. “No, it looks – I don’t know. Go see a film. Get something to eat,” he said. “Christ, do the shopping.”
As soon as he said it, he immediately regretted it. A certain familiar spark flared up in Sherlock’s eyes, and he tossed the marmite at John, managing to give it enough spin to keep the spread contained in the jar.
Until John caught it upside down, and wound up with marmite on his shoes.
“I need to pick up some things anyway,” Sherlock said as he rushed for his coat. “Is there anything you need?”
John tossed the marmite jar into the sink and shook his head. “You’re doing the shopping?” he asked.
Sherlock paused just long enough to blink at him. “You suggested it, and I do need to pick up supplies, so yes,” he said. “Something wrong?”
“Last time you volunteered to do the shopping, I wound up strapped to a bomb,” John pointed out. “That’s not going to happen this time, is it? No deadly ninja assassins? The IRA isn’t going to come invade the flat in your absence?”
Sherlock snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “The IRA are more annoyed with Mycroft right now.”
Before John could properly roll his eyes, Sherlock was halfway down the stairs.
After several distractions and a dead bird on the road, Sherlock eventually found his way to Sainsbury’s, quickly winding through the aisles to pick up what he needed. Even when he was picking up things he needed for his experiments, shopping was a dreadfully boring affair. Go down the aisle, pick up the item, put it in the basket, take everything back to the checkout stand, wait in a queue that could be made fair more efficient simply by banning cash transactions – how any of these people could stand to do this on a weekly basis was a puzzle Sherlock wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.
Including the time spent in the queue, Sherlock gave himself twenty minutes to fetch up everything he needed. He rushed through the aisles, winding his way through crowds of people all standing around looking at boxes of pasta and cat food, and had his basket filled in just under ten minutes. With any luck, the queue would actually move quickly enough to get him out of this dreadful place by the time his twenty minutes were up.
Of course, whoever was in charge of hiring cashiers had other plans. The girl behind the counter seemed to think that her job description included chatting to everyone who came through her queue. She talked about her dog, and the weather, and that television show about doctors, and how one of them might have cancer now, oh how dreadful; she’d always liked that character.
Oh, how boring.
When it finally came his turn, Sherlock simply upended his basket on the belt and waited for the onslaught of inane chatter. Instead, the girl just stared at her task, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Sherlock. He vaguely registered the man behind him laughing slightly, but ignored it. People laugh at everything.
John stood at the table, not sure whether to laugh or throttle his flatmate. The shopping had been done, as promised, but putting it all away still apparently fell to him.
“Surprised you didn’t get laughed out of there,” he said. “Or have the police called.”
Sherlock looked up from his laptop. “Was that what he was laughing about?” he asked absently.
John covered his mouth with his hand. “Well, whether it was the cucumbers and the KY, or the turkey baster and the pregnancy tests, I’m not sure, but if someone was laughing, it was most definitely at you, yes.”
“Veg by the window, jelly in the freezer,” Sherlock instructed, his attention already fixed back on his laptop screen. “And I’ll need you to take one of the tests, and ask Mrs Hudson to take the other.”
“Wh—never mind.” John set the pregnancy tests aside and started fishing through the bags again. “Did you actually do any proper shopping?”
“You didn’t say you needed anything,” Sherlock said.
“Right.” John threw a package of nylon stockings at Sherlock. “Don’t burn the house down. Mrs Hudson is downstairs if you need anything.”
Sighing, he reached for his coat so the two of them would have something to eat besides squidgy cucumbers and vinegar.
Character/s: Holmes, Watson
Word Count: 990
Rating: PG, for innuendo
Summary: Prompt: Say, you bought a new bra, a car battery, olive oil, taco chips, tissues and a length of rope?
Notes/Warnings: Minor spoilers for last week’s Casualty. Not a 5+1 like the prompt asked for, but I don’t think John would have let it happen that many times anyway. >.>
There is a Very Good Reason Sherlock Doesn’t do the Shopping
Sherlock Holmes would do one of two things when he didn’t have a case on: sulk endlessly, or turn everything he could get his hands on into an experiment.
The doctor part of John knew that Sherlock’s manic episodes were the more healthy side of a very unhealthy coin, but the flatmate part of him preferred when Sherlock would sulk for a few days, because then at least the flat would be quiet, and he could get a bit of cleaning done.
Ten days without a case, and the flat was not quiet. There was no cleaning to be done any time in the near future, as far as John could tell, and he was fairly certain that whatever he had found in the kettle that morning would never come out.
The sound of a stack of plates breaking in unison was enough for John’s temper to finally get the best of him.
“Would you stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing right now?” he shouted, pulling himself to his feet.
Sherlock stopped, but only because he seemed to have found the jar of marmite he’d been looking for.
“Why don’t you go out, like a normal person?” John demanded, trying to ignore the mess on the floor that meant they’d be eating out of take away boxes for the next fortnight.
“What do normal people do when they go out?” asked Sherlock. He opened the marmite and peered at it. “Has this gone off?”
John found himself peering at the marmite. “No, it looks – I don’t know. Go see a film. Get something to eat,” he said. “Christ, do the shopping.”
As soon as he said it, he immediately regretted it. A certain familiar spark flared up in Sherlock’s eyes, and he tossed the marmite at John, managing to give it enough spin to keep the spread contained in the jar.
Until John caught it upside down, and wound up with marmite on his shoes.
“I need to pick up some things anyway,” Sherlock said as he rushed for his coat. “Is there anything you need?”
John tossed the marmite jar into the sink and shook his head. “You’re doing the shopping?” he asked.
Sherlock paused just long enough to blink at him. “You suggested it, and I do need to pick up supplies, so yes,” he said. “Something wrong?”
“Last time you volunteered to do the shopping, I wound up strapped to a bomb,” John pointed out. “That’s not going to happen this time, is it? No deadly ninja assassins? The IRA isn’t going to come invade the flat in your absence?”
Sherlock snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “The IRA are more annoyed with Mycroft right now.”
Before John could properly roll his eyes, Sherlock was halfway down the stairs.
After several distractions and a dead bird on the road, Sherlock eventually found his way to Sainsbury’s, quickly winding through the aisles to pick up what he needed. Even when he was picking up things he needed for his experiments, shopping was a dreadfully boring affair. Go down the aisle, pick up the item, put it in the basket, take everything back to the checkout stand, wait in a queue that could be made fair more efficient simply by banning cash transactions – how any of these people could stand to do this on a weekly basis was a puzzle Sherlock wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.
Including the time spent in the queue, Sherlock gave himself twenty minutes to fetch up everything he needed. He rushed through the aisles, winding his way through crowds of people all standing around looking at boxes of pasta and cat food, and had his basket filled in just under ten minutes. With any luck, the queue would actually move quickly enough to get him out of this dreadful place by the time his twenty minutes were up.
Of course, whoever was in charge of hiring cashiers had other plans. The girl behind the counter seemed to think that her job description included chatting to everyone who came through her queue. She talked about her dog, and the weather, and that television show about doctors, and how one of them might have cancer now, oh how dreadful; she’d always liked that character.
Oh, how boring.
When it finally came his turn, Sherlock simply upended his basket on the belt and waited for the onslaught of inane chatter. Instead, the girl just stared at her task, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Sherlock. He vaguely registered the man behind him laughing slightly, but ignored it. People laugh at everything.
John stood at the table, not sure whether to laugh or throttle his flatmate. The shopping had been done, as promised, but putting it all away still apparently fell to him.
“Surprised you didn’t get laughed out of there,” he said. “Or have the police called.”
Sherlock looked up from his laptop. “Was that what he was laughing about?” he asked absently.
John covered his mouth with his hand. “Well, whether it was the cucumbers and the KY, or the turkey baster and the pregnancy tests, I’m not sure, but if someone was laughing, it was most definitely at you, yes.”
“Veg by the window, jelly in the freezer,” Sherlock instructed, his attention already fixed back on his laptop screen. “And I’ll need you to take one of the tests, and ask Mrs Hudson to take the other.”
“Wh—never mind.” John set the pregnancy tests aside and started fishing through the bags again. “Did you actually do any proper shopping?”
“You didn’t say you needed anything,” Sherlock said.
“Right.” John threw a package of nylon stockings at Sherlock. “Don’t burn the house down. Mrs Hudson is downstairs if you need anything.”
Sighing, he reached for his coat so the two of them would have something to eat besides squidgy cucumbers and vinegar.
no subject
*SHRIEKS FOREVER*
It's a very good thing I wasn't drinking something as I would have spat it all over my laptop. I cannot afford a new laptop. Therefore logically I cannot drink anything whenever you have posted a fic.
no subject
no subject
no subject
OP from the meme
Re: OP from the meme
no subject
no subject
no subject
Still, I'm wondering if Sherlock would ever realize just how bad that particular batch of shopping looked. *snerk*
no subject