Hey, my lovely readers. This is my first Sherlock fanfic ever, and the first chapter in this collection of 221Bs. Since this is new to me, reviews are appreciated, and it is your sacred duty to make me aware if this is not, indeed, a true 221B.
This one was inspired by science class, only my science class doesn't feature the world's only consulting detective. Expect me to update slowly, as I have the misfortune to be both lazy and busy. Thanks for reading!
Dusclaimer: I am neither Moffat nor Gatis, therefore I do not own Sherlock.
"Sherlock." This was John Watson, trudging into the kitchen of 221B after a long and irritating day at the clinic.
"Busy." And this was Sherlock Holmes, dripping a blue fluid into a few glass vials spread across the countertop, surrounded by splatters of a liquid suspiciously sanguine in color.
"What the hell have you done to the kitchen?" John demanded, surveying the disaster.
"Working. A case. If you wanted to do something useful, you could pick up some more Benedict's solution. Please." The detective gestured impatiently toward the blue stuff in his dropper, which was now turning one of the test tube's contents a murky orange.
"Benedict? Like that actor who looks like you?"
"No! Don't you people know anything? I'm testing these saliva samples for sugar so I can solve that girl's murder."
"What? Sherlock, I don't have time to buy your bloody Benedict's."
"Yes, yes, your date. Relax, it's not until seven and she's going to stand you up, either way. Did you not see her socks? Besides, this is more fun."
"Fun for you. Where do they even sell that stuff, anyway?" This was John Watson, ignoring most of Sherlock's comment.
And this was Sherlock Holmes, smiling as his only friend trudged out to get some Benedict's.