Adventures on Aisle Eight
Disclaimer - Don't own them, don't really want to.
Summary - Where do you go when you need a kid-sized tunnel at 8pm?
A/N - Forensiphile requested this as "payment" for a very generous offering, I don't think she realized what she asked for..
He stood there, right outside the doors, looking up at the great expanse of concrete and glass before him; in awe, in disgust.
"Must we really go in, Watson?" He asked, eyebrows arched, pleading with her to change her mind.
"Sherlock, this is ridiculous. It's a Target, not a morgue." She answered curtly, already standing just inside the automatic doors.
"A morgue? I would be most delighted to go to a morgue, Watson. That was a poor comparison, even for you." He finally walked through the doors to join Watson but his posture was stiff and his expression irritated.
Once inside, Watson watched as Sherlock's face morphed from utter disgust to one of complete shock.
"Not what you were expecting? Honestly, Sherlock, sometimes I wonder how you function in the real world." She started off toward the back of the store.
"As you might recall, Watson, I do not exactly 'function in the real world'; at least, not in the traditional sense. Where are we going?" He looked up and she was already out of sight. "Watson?"
She didn't answer, she was on a mission and just assumed Sherlock would catch up. It wasn't until she had made it to the housewares section that she noticed that he was being rather quiet. She turned to address this fact and was surprised to see that not only was he being quiet, he was nowhere in sight.
Annoyed, and slightly concerned, she went off in search of the missing detective; she just hoped he hadn't found the electronics section; she'd never be able to pull him away from the row of televisions.
Rounding the corner between the shoe and women's clothing sections, she heard it.
"Bees!"
Sherlock's unfettered apiatric joy was unmistakably coming from, she should have guessed, the sock aisle.
"Sherlock? What are you doing?" She asked as she walked up next to his bent form; he was studying the selection rather intently.
"Bees, Watson, they have BEE SOCKS!" He held up a grey pair of socks with little yellow and black bees all over them. He was clearly very excited by his find.
"I see." She answered, amused but not quite matching his level of enthusiasm.
"I was walking past, in search of you since you quite rudely stalked off without bothering to make sure I was with you, and I caught site of this aisle that is, if I'm not mistaken, dedicated entirely to socks. Extraordinary. I might not have been bothered had to opted to carry on back to the Brownstone on your own but since you're here, what are your thoughts on these?" He asked, thrusting a pair of loudly striped socks her way.
"Um, they're nice…" Had she realized that all she had to do was tell him they sold socks for him to be this excited, she would have done it weeks ago.
"Yes, I thought so as well." He was smiling unabashedly, his arms full of various pairs of oddly patterned and wildly colored socks.
She was standing there, watching Sherlock practically morph into a little boy in a candy shop when she spotted a pair he had not yet seen. They were a muted tan, which is probably why he hadn't gone for them yet, but they had tiny green turtles circling the top just below the cuff. She smiled and reached for them, Sherlock spotted the motion and turned just in time to see her pluck the pair off the rack. He audibly gasped.
"Those are magnificent, Watson. You have an excellent eye!" He was practically salivating, which caused her to chuckle as she went to hand them to him.
"Clyde won't feel left out anymore if you get these." She said simply.
"Quite right, Watson, and we musn't have him feeling neglected, poor chap." He had to juggle his armful quite a bit in order to accommodate the newest find but he finally managed.
"Maybe it's time we moved on, Sherlock, I think you've depleted the sock department enough for today."
"Hmm, perhaps you're right, Watson, I think leaving a few pairs undiscovered would be best; more to choose from next time." And with that, he and his ten pairs of socks walked out of aisle eight. Watson just shook her head and followed.
As they headed toward the hardware department, Watson saw Sherlock stop suddenly in his tracks.
"What is it, Sherlock? More socks?" She asked, somewhat jokingly.
"Watson...have you seen the selection of teas?" He was peering to the left, at the aisle containing assorted coffees and teas.
"Of course, it's where I buy most of mine." She answered matter-of-factly.
"I much prefer loose leaf tea, myself, but the variety here is superb." He stated and then continued on his way.
Watson smiled and followed, finally nearing the department they ventured out for to begin with: paint.
"Alright, Watson, what will it be? Pink? Green? Perhaps a lovely shade of mauve?" Sherlock asked when they reached the paint sample section. Watson smiled and strode over to the array of colors; this was going to be fun.
After much deliberation, various tiffs, and a very wide-eyed check-out clerk, the pair were settled into a cab and on their way back to the Brownstone.
"Thank you, Sherlock." Watson said quietly.
"For what, exactly, do you owe me thanks Watson?"
"For coming with me; for letting me paint my room at the Brownstone." She answered, looking at the Target bags full of socks between them.
"Of course, Watson. I've always said that it was your space, I want you to be as comfortable as possible; I want you to feel as comfortable as you have made me feel." He answered, looking over at her.
"Although, your taste in colors leaves a bit to be desired; I'm sure I'll get used to it...eventually." He looked back out his window.
She pulled out the sample card that had her color choice circled in Target-Red sharpie; it was an interesting shade, a sort of mix of blue, green, and grey. A color she had come to love, having looked at it every day for the past few months. The color matched Sherlock's eyes almost perfectly.
-fin