Do Want
It had been a mistake, quite possibly the worst that Watson had ever made. And there were lot of mistakes made competing for that title.
Still, it had seemed like a reasonable enough idea at the time, what with Holmes about to descend into one of his infamous black moods. And him with no way of legally obtaining drugs to soothe it.
But Watson quickly came to regret his idea to introduce Holmes to the wonders of the internet.
It only led to him becoming an entirely different sort of junkie, browsing through website after website on his screen. A post he eagerly and currently inhabited as Watson brought out the day's 3 o'clock tea.
As Watson set down the tea tray beside him, Holmes let out a chuckle. The robotic doctor could not help but raise a latex eyebrow. "What is it you're reading now?"
"Oh, just some speculation that I'm the Messiah, due to my, ahem, 'second coming'." Holmes tore his eyes away from the screen to meet Watson's. "The author does a very good job of arguing for it, actually."
"I should say that theory is the last thing your ego needs."
Another chuckle. "Oh come now, Watson. Do you not want to be my loyal disciple?" Raising his cup, Holmes calmly sipped at his tea. "Our fanbase is rather scary at times, Watson."
"Your fanbase, you mean."
"Please, I don't care what they say. I happen to find your presence very essential in our investigations… and in the fanbase's many wild theories."
"I think I'd prefer to stay out of their speculations, if you don't mind."
He could have sworn he caught a "More's the pity," breathed into Holmes' empty cup, but quickly decided it must have been a temporary hearing malfunction; it made no sense for Holmes to mutter such a thing.
"I do not know how you can stand it, Holmes. Having people speculate so freely upon your life."
"It makes little difference to me, and is hardly the worst thing I have ever read." His nose curled up in mild disgust as he replaced his cup upon the tray. "But did you know that there are many who believe there was something going on between me and that woman?" That woman, of course, being Irene Adler.
"Really? I had no idea," Watson said, keeping quiet that he had often pondered such a thing himself.
"Really. I set off a firework in her house, she rushes off to get married, and everyone suspects me of wishing to hold an affair with her." He shook his head ruefully. "Truly, there are some things in this world I will never understand."
"I'm sure you'll survive, just as the rest of us do."
"Oh, but's that's hardly the worst of it. There are even theories that there was something going on between me and Professor Moriarty."
"…what."
Holmes spread his hands in supplication. "Exactly. Interesting how you can throw a man off a cliff, and it will still lead to all sorts of romantic speculation." Another shameless smirk was shot at him. "Would you care to hear some of their more graphic imaginings?"
Somehow Watson managed the highly improbable, though clearly not impossible, task of turning an elasto-mask face green. "Please, Holmes. Spare me the details." He shook his head as he cleared away the tea tray. "I honestly don't know why you read that sort of thing."
"Pure scientific curiosity, I assure you," the reply came as the doctor removed the tea things back to the kitchen.
Once certain he was out of earshot, Holmes murmured to himself, "Although I must say, Watson, in regards to their theories of a potential romance between you and myself…" his lips quirked ever so slightly. "Do want."