Just a random one-shot that was inspired by real life events! Happy Monday to everyone!
Not beta'd, not brit-picked and sadly not mine!
Using his long legs to their full advantage, Sherlock strode confidently over the parking lot. John had to accelerate his own steps to keep up with his friend as they walked back to their Land Rover rental car.
"Am I getting this right? You want to drive all the way back to London, instead of taking the train?" John couldn't believe his ears. Sherlock never drove anywhere on his own!
"Well, we did just miss our train and the next one leaves at noon. By that time we should be almost home if we leave now. "
John couldn't argue with that logic. "But it is going to take at least three hours and you are not exactly..." he trailed off, well aware that he should better shut up.
"Not exactly what, John?"
"Well, you rarely drive..."
Sherlock huffed. "What are you talking about? I am a perfectly fine driver. I prefer to take cabs because finding parking is tedious and Lestrade refuses to waive my tickets."
"Hmm…" John was not convinced. True, Sherlock was a capable driver, from what little he had seen over the past few days. The detective's approach to driving a car was very similar to playing the violin. If you decide to learn it, don't stop until you have mastered it! As such he could handle a car with the precision of a stunt driver. The fact that worried John was not so much Sherlock's skill as rather the fact that he was not the most patient man. And driving into London required lots of patience…
"I should have taken the train!"One and a half hours into their impromptu little road trip and John was uncomfortable, to say the least. He hated it when attention was drawn to him, and by proxy, the car he was in, but the way Sherlock was driving it was unavoidable. He was vocal and certainly not shy about making his opinion known to other drivers, even if their only offence had been to stick to the speed limit. What, according to Sherlock, was more of 'guideline' than a rule anyway!
"I can handle the car safely at this speed, why should I slow down simply because a piece of metal says so?" were his exact words to that. John wished he could just sink into the seat and disappear from sight.
"Don't be unreasonable! We're making excellent time!" He swerved and honked at another car, obviously too slow for his taste. "We'll be home in time for lunch."
"If we live that long" John muttered under his breath, feeling slightly car-sick.
"Oh come on, I don't drive that badly!" He actually sounded offended. "It's the people around me that are complete idiots! Even you have to agree that that car was totally hogging the lane."
John just nodded weakly. The closer they got to London, and the denser the traffic grew, the more erratic Sherlock's manoeuvres got. He was weaving in and out of lanes, loudly abusing the other drivers for being in his way and generally behaving as if he owned the road. And despite all the rage, John could see the same gleam in his eyes that he usually wore when on a case. He was on fire and any attempt at stopping him would be futile.
"MOVE it! Bloody hell, what are you waiting for?" He pressed the horn repeatedly. They had entered the London city area and traffic was backed up in all directions. Things had gone from bad to worse as Sherlock's patience ran out and his frustration mounted. They were currently in line to merge with the main road and the car ahead of them was hesitant to move into the fast moving lane.
"It's a Nissan Micra! Probably an old couple. Give it a rest, Sherlock! We are almost home, we made excellent time, and there is really no rush!"
"Even a ninety year old blind nun would have taken that gap!" He exclaimed, inching forward even more, crowding the smaller car with the large Land Rover. There was barely a hand width of space between the two, and John felt bad for the poor driver ahead of them. "Oh, now come on. TAKE IT!"
The car finally merged into the main road and Sherlock accelerated hard, overtaking the small vehicle and getting ready to launch into another rant at the imbecile driver. His left arm shot up from its hold on the gear lever and fluidly extended out towards the other car, in a universal gesture of disapproval. The motion caused John to sink even lower in his seat. Hand twitching in irritation, Sherlock turned his head and took a quick glare at the driver. The detective blanched, his arm frozen in place and suddenly he became very still.
"Oh no," he moaned, eyes fixed forward and wide open, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.
Following Sherlock line of vision, John had a look at the driver as well. And started to laugh. The car was occupied by four elderly ladies, clad in traditional black and white habits. His laughter turned into hysterics at the absurdity of the situation. The sight of his stunned friend was such a sweet payback for the hours of suffering through his road rage!
A slightly shaken Sherlock decelerated to normal speed and pulled out of the speeding lane.
"Did you see that John? What are the odds?"
John tried to answer, but decided that he rather use the break in between his laughter to take a deep breath.
"Nuns! Real and very old nuns! Four of them. In a tiny Nissan! And I..." he broke off, mentally backtracking his rant and cringed.
Struggling to catch his breath, John managed to wheeze a quick "All right, that's it. YOU are so going to hell!", before Sherlock's scandalized expression pushed him over the edge of another hysteric laughing fit.