The Case of the Missing Houndstooth

Disclaimer - I do not own Elementary/Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson/Clyde...I just borrowed them, briefly, for my own amusement.

Description - Something very near and dear to Sherlock's heart goes missing. Is Watson to blame?

Thanks to Forensiphile for sharing that sock GIFset and making all of this appear in my head!

Sherlock, standing at the bottom of the stairs on one-socked foot, holding his ever-so-naked other foot aloft toward Watson, standing mid-descent down the steps.

"Watson, you need not deny it any longer. I have known for quite some time that you loathe my sock choices. However, stealing a single sock is NOT the way to get your point across!"

He was very agitated, gesticulating wildly to the still-naked foot. Seeing no reaction from Watson, he stomped the naked foot on the ground, two-year-old fashion, and held out his hand towards her.

"Hand it over, Watson. I demand it!"

Sighing, she crossed her arms across her chest and replied in that even tone that she has grown accustomed to using whenever Sherlock gets over excited. He hated that tone.

"Sherlock, I assure you that if I wanted to deny you your crazy sock-wearing-self, I would not only take ONE."

Seeing his obvious despair and knowing his unwillingness to let anything, and she did know anything, go, she decided she might as well help him look for it.

"Are you sure you've looked everywhere?"

"Of course, Watson. I am not some average Joe-schmoe. I am a detective. I have searched high and low and it is nowhere to be found." He answered shortly. Honestly, did she expect anything less of him?

Watson has a thought, furrows her brows briefly, uncrosses her arms, and scoots past Sherlock at the bottom of the stairs. She walks into the laundry room and Sherlock is still standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking annoyed that she isn't taking him seriously.

"I know this doesn't seem all that important to you, but I daresay you are being rather flippant about it. Had it been any of your undergarments missing, I can assure you I would have searched right alongside you.."

She interrupts this preposterous, albeit entertaining, visual, "Sherlock...could you come in here a moment?"

He huffingly obliges and sees her standing next to the dryer with it pulled away from the wall, caddy corner fashion.

"Hardly a time to suggest rearranging, don't you think?" He asks, clearly annoyed.

"Sherlock, why don't you take a look back here..I think you'll find it interesting." She has that tone again..

"Oh dear God. I didn't leave Clyde out again, did I?" She can hear his honest fear and tries not to let him see her amusement.

"No Sherlock...well, yes, actually..but I put him away. Again." She really would have to have another discussion with him about the importance of proper tortoise care, but that could wait.

"Oh good. I do love that tortoise; I just get distracted."

"I can see that. The dryer?" Amused.

"If there's a mouse behind there, I will be making you throw it out. There is no reason why, in this day and age, a capable woman like yourself needs a man to cast away a tiny vermin. Really, Watson, I'd think you'd have more pride."

At this she rolls her eyes, stoops down behind the dryer and plucks up a lone sock.

"My sock!" Overjoyed, he snatches the loudest Houndstooth print sock known to mankind and quickly covers his naked foot. Instant warmth and symmetry restored.

"You looked everywhere?"

"Why on earth would I check behind there, Watson? This machine is clearly defective and I will get a new one at once. Dryers vanishing socks. What kind of world are we living in?" He responded dismissively as he walked out of the room.

Watson could hear the TVs being turned on and, again, rolled her eyes and sighed. She pushed the dryer back, smiled and shook her head, and turned off the light as she headed back up the stairs.

-fin