A/N: You can find the "prompt" and whatnot in the end notes. I have no beta. I have no britpicker. Everyone's probably OOC. Read at your own risk. Feel free to give me constructive criticism with the understanding that I'm only writing these because I have no life and they're not to be taken seriously.
"Sherlock, have you seen my keys?" I was late. Very, very, VERY late to my second day at the surgery. Honestly, I was lucky I didn't get fired for falling asleep at my desk on the first day.
The flat was a disaster from the case and I was so tired my vision blurred if I turned my head too quickly. "Sherlock?"
He was lying on the couch in his thinking position, either asleep or ignoring me.
I growled. I didn't have time to fight with him.
My keys weren't in my coat, my pants, the cracks of my chair, the kitchen, the loo, the coffee table or anywhere else as far as I could tell. "Forget it. Let me in after my shift I have to go." I was probably speaking to the wall because he didn't give any indication he heard me. I huffed and was half way out the door when he spoke.
"Take your phone. I'll need to text you if there's a case."
That was actually thoughtful. Wait, he probably meant he'd need to text me to come help him with the case, not that he wouldn't be home to let me in. I patted my pocket, "I've-" there was nothing there. "What the...?" I was sure it was there earlier. I spun around. "Where...?" Nothing. "Have you seen my phone Sherlock?"
"Yes."
I waited.
"Well, where is it?"
His phone chimed and he ignored me to start texting.
"Sherlock!"
"Boring!" He huffed and flopped back down dramatically.
"Sherlock, I need to leave. Help me find my phone." I looked at my watch. Oh, I was so late.
"You should just stay home with me. Work is boring. People complaining about the common cold are a waste of your time."
I rolled my eyes. "Never mind. I'll just take a cab. I'm sure you can figure out the office number." I was half down the stairs when I pulled out my wallet to check and make sure I had enough cash for the ride.
Except my wallet wasn't there. Nor was it in my jacket pockets. It was unlikely I'd lost my wallet by setting it down in the flat somewhere. In fact, I knew I had it this morning. I checked the seams of my pockets. There were no holes.
I replayed the morning in my head. I got up, took a shower, went to dress, bumped into Sherlock while making tea...
I thundered up the stairs.
"SHERLOCK!"
"Yes?" He was texting again.
"Sherlock, where is my wallet?"
"I imagine it's where ever your keys and mobile are."
"You think so, huh?" I stopped myself from walking closer because I wasn't sure I wouldn't strangle him.
"I know so." He grinned.
I was ashamed it took me that long to see the phone he was using was mine. He wasn't even trying to hide the engraving with his slender fingers.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. When that wasn't working I tried to run through the reasons I wasn't allowed to murder him in my head: 1. It's illegal. 2. ... Something with his brother? Maybe? He'd be mad, if I killed Sherlock. He had to care if he went through all that trouble to test me. 3. I'd have to move back into the bedsit. Or in with Harry. I shuddered in abject horror.
"Sherlock."
He smirked. It was one of the many expressions I hated, the one that crazy people would give themselves after training their cat to use the toilet. Smug self satisfaction never looked good but he took it to another level.
"Take mine." He held out a mobile and waited.
I wondered just how long he'd sit there with his arm in the air if I didn't move. One of these days I'll test it. When I'm not running late.
I snatched the mobile. "Wallet, keys."
He reached under his back, contorting his arm in a way that made me wince on his behalf but didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He held it out with a flourish.
"Keys."
He glared at me and waved the wallet in my face.
I rolled my eyes and took it. "Keys, Sherlock."
His thumb moved around the screen of my mobile while his other hand reached under the cushion withdrawing with a jingle I recognized as my set of keys. How I noticed the differences between the jingles of our key rings and not the text tones of our phones I didn't know. Maybe I was just so used to him using my phone, my laptop, my everything as his it didn't register anymore. Half the time I was just glad he wasn't ordering me to do his input for him.
I flew down the steps and out the door. Things were finally looking up. I'd snagged a cab right out of the door and traffic was light.
*Ping.*
A text. I frowned; normally I make Sherlock check his own texts. It was somehow an invasion of privacy for me to read his texts. I don't know why he was allowed privacy and I wasn't. Honestly, he probably would yell at me for not reading it if it were important.
"Think it though next time." Memory Sherlock said.
Ok, what would he do if it weren't important? Probably shrug and wonder why I was bothering him with it.
The office kept calling. Make them stop so they'll cease interrupting my work. -SH
Damnit, Sherlock!
What do they want? -JW
I scrolled through his stored contacts halfheartedly hoping he had my job stored so I wouldn't have to look it up.
M&D
Body Parts
Possible Case
Ignore This Number
Ignore This One Too
Call This If Desperate
John
Drunk Sister
Home
C Food
I Food
S Food
That Place John Likes
*Ping*
The text message scrolled over the contacts list:
You get angry when I listen to your voicemails. -SH
I don't know what I expected. Well, I do. I expected that response. That's why I was in his contacts to begin with.
I wondered if "That Place John Likes" was my work. I decided to scroll through a couple more and see if anything else was a better fit.
DI's Dog
That One Place
Transport
Unnecessary
M H's Friend
M H's Niece
That Stupid Girl
John's Barts Friend
John's Army Friend
John's Other Army Friend
That One Guy John Sees Sometimes
That Place M H Goes To
The Pub John Goes To
The Other Pub John Goes To
Jesus, Sherlock! I stopped scrolling and rubbed my face with my hands.
*Ping.*
They said some stuff that means you're fired. Come home. -SH
"WHAT?!" I screeched.
The cabbie swerved and I apologized. I hit "John" and dial.
*Ring.*
*Ring.*
"I swear to God, Sherlock if you-"
"What?"
He sounded irritated. My reaction to that cut off the surprise that he had actually answered. "What do you mean, what?!" I didn't wait for an answer. "What happened? Why am I fired?!"
"They called again so I told them to stop. That I was busy."
I waited for him to finish. Then I realized he was finished. "What. Did. You. Say. Exactly?" I growled.
"What? Then they said is this Dr. Watson and I said no and they said where can we reach him and I said he's on his way already stop calling-"
I cut him off because I knew he was lying. "Sherlock."
"Fine. Fine, I said you were wasting your time by even bothering to think of working for them and had more important things to do-"
"Sherlock!" I was aghast.
"Then some things were said and now you can come home."
"Wha...? I... Urgh." I honestly didn't want to know what else he said. Even my morbid curiosity wouldn't permit me to ask.
The cab pulled up to the kerb outside the surgery and I decided to try to pry myself out of the hole Sherlock had dug for me.
It did not go as well as I'd hoped but it went better than I'd expected.
Sarah, God bless her, put me down as unavailable until further notice instead of canning me outright and agreed to a second date.
I was trying to hail a cab back home when another message came in.
*Ping.*
Go to the bank before coming home. -SH
I rolled my eyes and decided that going to the bank would give me more time to cool off before I had to see his face.
Why? -JW
*Ping.*
To deposit the cheque, of course. -SH
Of course.
I gave the cabbie the name of Sherlock's bank.
When I entered the bank I was greeted by name and pulled into an office.
"What's this all about?"
"Please sit, Dr. Watson. Would you like tea?" The banker looked nervous.
I eyed him warily.
"Mr. Holmes just made some changes to his account and told us to expect you." He grimaced as he explained and I wondered which Mr. Holmes he dealt with, either one would cause a grimace.
I took a seat.
After a lengthy explanation I didn't quite believe and a few texts to Sherlock I'd signed papers that added me to Sherlock's account and deposited the cheque. I caught a glimpse of something on screen that looked like complex rules for withdrawals and approved charges.
Somehow I managed to never find out the balance.
When I got home the fight over the bank account took precedence over the fight over my job, which was probably planned.
"Paying bills is boring, John!"
"Sherlock, you're a grown man-"
"You getting a job would interfere with The Work. This solves both problems."
I opened my mouth to start to argue but hesitated. I mean, why not? I did do a lot of work for The Work after all. Would it be so horrible to take part of the compensation?
Any argument I may have had ended at the same time the microwave exploded.
I used my new bank card to purchase a new one after calming Mrs. Hudson down. I was glad that the waiting period for new cards didn't apply to Sherlock.
- Two Days Later
"Sherlock, where are my keys?"
"Where did you last see them?"
"I last saw them in the shoebox in my closet with my wallet. They're gone."
He continued typing on my laptop and ignored me.
"I haven't been in my room since I hid them there and Mrs. Hudson doesn't go though my things."
"Doesn't she?"
"No, no she doesn't. You go through my things. Where are my keys Sherlock?"
"With your wallet I'd imagine."
"I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS!" I wailed.
Sherlock ignored me.
"Fine." I grabbed the chequebook. I didn't know if the pub would take cheques but Lestrade would cover me if I gave him one to pay him back.
I didn't even need to explain the situation to Greg. I just asked if he'd take a cheque and cover my tab and he nodded while smiling.
"So, how's life with Sherlock?"
"He's such a dick I swear one day I'm going to duct tape him to the fucking wall." I pictured how much tape that'd take and how he'd glare when I was done and I laughed.
Greg spewed beer across the table and choked.
We couldn't look at each other for the rest of the night without choking or laughing.
- Seven Days Later
"Sherlock."
He froze and turned his head to face me slowly.
We stared at each other for a long moment.
I dove for him the same time he snagged my wallet and ended up tackling his legs. After a few minutes of wrestling I ended up sitting on his hips with my elbow in his back and my hand on half his face pushing the other half into the sitting room floor trying to grab the wallet his long scrawny arm held out of my reach.
"Damnit, Sherlock, gimmie!"
"Never!" He spat and failed his legs.
"Woo, hoo!" A knock.
I looked up in horror as Mrs. Hudson squeaked and blushed.
"Don't mind me!" She set the tea on the floor and left, swinging the door closed behind her. "Just, shut the door next time, yeah?"
"Oh, God!" I moaned, mortified. I could feel my blush under my hands as I buried my face in them. "It's not what it looks like!" I called after her.
"Ooo! She brought the good biscuits." Sherlock tried to wiggle free now that his upper body had mobility.
Almost an hour of elbows, knees, and scrambling over an item I didn't even need today later we sipped cold tea, ate the good biscuits, nursed our bruises and giggled.
After the giggle fit was over I opened the door. "You know we can never shut the door now, right?"
When I turned around Sherlock was sprinting down the hall and my wallet wasn't in my pocket anymore.
"Damnit, Sherlock!" I tore off after him, wondering if you could get a bulk discount on duct tape.
Prompt:Zim is a clingy little alien. Let's be real here.
Not only is he a tiny green bean full of rage, but he needs constant attention and if someone else is given more attention than him, he'll start hiding things.
"Zim, where are my keys?"
"I don't know"
"ZIM PLEASE IM LATE FOR WORK"
"Mhm what a shame it looks like you have to stay home with me"
And Dib is just "I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS"
So eventually Dib realizes he has to keep important stuff out of Zims reach like on top of the refrigerator. But of course Zim uses his PAK legs to retrieve the precious item and fucking RUNS because Dib usually catches him.
And by now Dib is just SO done.
"So how's life with Zim?"
"He's such a dick I swear one day I'm just going to duct tape him to the fucking wall"
link: Tumblr
I don't own anything to do with Sherlock in any iteration. I don't make any money off this and the other basic disclaimer rambling.