John * Appetizer
Appetizer: entrails of human specimen 459X, a light soupy dish peppered with exasperation. Underlying sweetness with the familiarity of your everyday life.
In all the years of my life, I cannot remember for the life of me how I put up with this flat mate of mine on daily basis.
Just yesterday, Sherlock had been a blunt cockblock on my eighth (I insist that it was only the eighth) failed date since moving in; and on the day before, I had nearly choked on his own spit upon catching a whiff of the truly terrible odor of rotting whatsits that wafted out from the kitchen.
Today, there were strange little lumps of grey and pink all over the floor.
Sighing had become a common expression, and I felt creases take form on my forehead. What sort of gruesome sight would lie before me in the kitchen?
"Sherlock? Sherlock are you in the kitchen?" I gritted my teeth as I struggled to pick my way through the undesirable substances that blanketed the floor. Pausing at a strange red spot of liquid on the ground, I wrinkled his nose at the familiar, irony tang of blood. "Sherlock! There's blood on the floor! Again! What've you been doing?"
Several muffled replies were heard, and I couldn't help but sigh again. There was clearly no way to find out what on earth was going on until I had seen that crazy flat mate of mine personally.
"You know, I'd appreciate it if you'd actually let me into your mysteries every once in a whi – SHIT SHERLOCK."
On the lacy tablecloth of Mrs. Hudson's table lay what could only be entrails of a human complete with various other body parts. The sink's handle was stained with blood (I dreaded to think of what the basin of the sink might look like. And that I might be the one clearing it up later) and a rather realistic, live-sized doll (fingers crossed that it wasn't an actual human) was positioned by the windows, dangling from a thick cord. The curtains looked slightly charred at the tips – meaning that Sherlock had been playing with his Bunsen burners again – and the wallpaper was dyed with brown-red still drying splotches.
Crimson streaked the table legs and puddled by the legs of Sherlock Holmes. The world's greatest and only consultant detective held a human hand (a real human hand) in his own, his brows furrowed as he examined his specimen.
"Sherlock for fuck's sake what are you doing?"
Silence. Sherlock showed no interest in the conversation in the slightest, continuing to glare accusingly at the hand as if it were going to come to life and strangle him.
"Sherlock."
Stony silence.
"Look, Mrs. Hudson wouldn't want to see this. You'd better clear up your little experiment soon and make sure you've –"
...
I bit down on my lower lip, body frozen in mid-step, squeezing my eyes shut in disgust.
"Sherlock, if I've just stepped into some brains from your mess I will kill you."
More silence. This time, I could feel Sherlock staring at me, his thoughts echoed loud and clear through my head (Really John? You'll kill me? Hardly possible, given the size of your brain). Upon hearing the chair creak, I wearily lifted his eyelids, willing myself not to look downwards at the undoubtedly unpleasant mess on my shoes. I tried to console myself with the fact that things could've been a lot worse had I been barefooted.
The ivory-black haired man had gotten up from his seat and was standing before me, his upper body bent so that he could hold my gaze evenly.
"First of all, you aren't going to kill me," Sherlock's deep voice hummed quietly, its sides laced with an emotion that I couldn't quite point out.
"Watch me."
Sherlock seemed to study my face, his eyes scanning the contours and various deep-set wrinkles. His eyes were nothing like I've ever seen – they could've been the lively blue of the summer sky, but it looked as if somebody had poked a hole somewhere by his iris and all the colour had drained out. What remained was the cool grey days of winter and frost.
"Second, those were the intestines."
That was all it took. I bent down to grab the slimy, bloody (literally) entrails and flung them at the consultant detective's stoic face. Pretty eyes be damned.
"SHERLOCK HOLMES I WILL END YOU."