Just an insane little drabble that happened while on vacation. Cheers!
Three hours was quite long enough.
"If you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to stab you in the eye," a pause, "With this spoon,"
Sherlock didn't even blink. John Watson sighed mightily and ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his shoulder pulled. He moved to fix another cuppa for himself, feeling his flatmate's gaze burn into his back.
Was there something on his face? Something wrong(er) (than usual) with his jumper? Was he thinking too loud?
If that was the case, then Sherlock should very well know that three hours of nigh constant observation was making the sandy haired blogger go insane.
So John did the only think left to do. He fled to his room.
Almost instantly Sherlock appeared too loom in his doorframe like a spider.
"What do you want Sherlock?" John was at his very frayed wit's end.
The wild haired consulting detective gave no answer.
John flung his pillow at him. Sherlock merely turned his body so the fluffy projectile thudded against the hallway wall ineffectively, eyes never leaving John's.
John glared. Sherlock merely gazed at him. After nearly ten seconds, Sherlock abruptly turned and quickly vacated John's doorway, mutter to himself what sounded worrisomely like 'hypothesis not upheld'.
"Oye! What hypothesis? Was I just in an experiment? DID YOU POISON MY TEA AGAIN?!" John screamed after his flatmate's retreating form, "Sherlock!"
John flailed for a moment in sheer frustration, casting his remaining pillows and the duvet to the floor.
Living with Sherlock was going to kill one of them.
John hoped it wasn't him.