"John, this is ridiculous. How can you even watch this tripe?" Sherlock, who had been sitting in front of the television all day watching some crazy woman go on about seeing Thor, asked in the most annoying way. John shook his head
"I don't. You do. I think they're all just as crazy as the alien sighters and monster hunters, alright? Just...please, turn off the telly and come help me with all of these dishes!" The long-winded reply made Sherlock lose interest far to quickly and he turned his attention to the television. He seemed to be completely engrossed in this woman's story, no matter how crazy it seemed. She acted as though she genuinely saw the Norse god of thunder!
Of course, the great Sherlock Holmes was not one to believe such insane claims without proof. Was anyone? So, he thought long and hard about it, then decided it was most likely nonsense before turning off the television and clasping his hands in front of his face, a gesture John was familiar with. It meant "Leave me alone, John. I am trying to concentrate."
So, he did just that and went back to washing the piles upon piles of dishes that had been dirtied the night before. It was a crazy party that Sherlock had no part in. Molly and Lestrade had come to celebrate 's birthday and it just got out of hand when Mycroft's mysterious lady-friend had dropped off two bottles of red wine. Nothing bad happened, but somehow the small flat was full to the brim with police officers, druggies, old women and various strangers John had no idea about.
However confusing and loud that night was, Sherlock managed to slip away and return the morning after, a heavy interest in the telly overwhelming him, it seemed. John mostly paid it no mind, but when the raven-haired man started ranting about the probabilities and statistics of the Thor woman's story, he became irritated. The lingering feelings of his earlier hangover weren't helping, either.
Sherlock suddenly stood, grabbing his scarf from the back of the chair and hurriedly wrapping it around his neck while he dashed to the front door. Right before he opened it, John yelled,"Sherlock! Where the bloody hell do you think you're going!" while running towards him. The dark-haired man smiled that mischievous smile and looked John dead in the eye."I'm going to find Thor." He said before opening the door and running out into the hallway.
John quickly decided it best to follow him and grabbed his coat, following the other man down the hallway. 'Oh, god.' John thought.'What the hell is he thinking! This is madness. He can't really mean Thor...can he? I thought he said that woman was crazy! Bloody fucking hell.' As he hit the sidewalk outside, he glanced around for Sherlock, having lost site of him, and immediately realized how cold it was outside.
Suddenly, his eyes caught a head of dark curls disappearing into a cab, the door shutting. As quick as he could, John ran towards the cab and flung open the door, right before the cab had taken off. Out of breath, the light-haired doctor was stuttering and gasping as he spoke."Sherlock! W-Why the hell did you just...just leave!"
"I believe her." Was all he said in reply, looking from John to the cabbie. "The airport, please." John walked to the other side and sat down in the vehicle."God, you're mad." He said, looking down and rubbing his forehead."But, I can't let you go by yourself."
Sherlock smiled crookedly and stared out the window. "Well, what would I be without my blogger?" To which John replied with only a halfhearted chuckle."Just some loon running about chasing mad old women with a thing for Norse mythology, I suppose." The taller man looked at him and grinned. "Accurately put, John."