4 Arty Di who likes non-slash laughs. Happy Birthday, Honey!
Sherlock had been skulking in his room all week and it was beginning to wear thin.
"I can kit you out in an entire new wardrobe from Tesco in what you paid for that stinking pair of boxers you refuse to take off," John called through the closed door.
"You can't make me wear them though!"
"Y' wanna bet? ... while taking photos of the boys from the Met getting you kitted out."
A short silence followed, then Sherlock emerged from his room, wearing his second best dressing-gown, carrying a towel and a small pile of clothes as he headed off towards the bathroom.
"You can't make me eat, though!" he said defiantly as he stomped past John.
"I'm a doctor, you'd be surprised what I can get you do - with or without medication. And I'm getting married, not going to the moon," John said.
"You're moving out. I said she could move in here. Why do you need to move out?"
"To avoid being manipulated."
"Surely pandering to her silly request to move out is playing into that."
"I didn't mean Mary, Sherlock. You are manipulating. Having you in the same house as us, is pandering to you!"
"'Us' used to mean - 'Us'," Sherlock said in a melancholy voice. "And you can't make me eat!"
"I'm calling the Met boys!"