Just a short little comic drabble based off a captioned set of photos I saw on Sherlock.
I do not own BBC Sherlock. Wish I did, but I don't.
This was the third time this week.
"Jim, what are you doing here?" Sherlock growled upon seeing the notorious criminal sitting in John's chair.
Moriarty looked up from tea he had been drinking. "I got bored. You always provide entertainment. I came here. It's simple logic, Sherlock."
"How did you get in?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.
The criminal mastermind held up a set of lock picks with one hand while he took a sip of tea with the other. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Of course," he growled. He crossed over to the chair across from Moriarty and sat down. "Look, Jim, what is it you want?"
"Just a friendly chat," he replied, setting the tea down on the table. "You don't mind do you?"
"I'm afraid I do," Sherlock growled.
Moriarty raised an eyebrow. "Look, Sherlock, if you don't want me in your flat then lock your door better."
"I've changed the locks twice this week," the detective replied in a monotone.
"You changed the lock, not the type of lock. Four pins isn't going to keep me from getting in here."
"Get. Out," Sherlock said.
The criminal consultant smiled. "Have I made you angry?"
"I said 'Get out'," he repeated, this time standing up for emphasis.
"Oooh, touchy!" Moriarty stuffed the lock picks in his pocket and set the teacup down on the table before heading towards the door. Just as he was reaching for the handle, he turned around. "Oh, by the way," he said nonchalantly. "I'd recommend a six pin if you want to give me a challenge next time. Seven if you really want to have some fun."
"Out," Sherlock shouted.
Moriarty grinned wickedly before opening the door. "'Til next time!"
"Sherlock!"
The detective turned his head to see a very sticky and angry John.
"You know, I wasn't joking when I texted you saying you should come through the window," the detective said before turning back to his paper.
John pursed his lips then strode across the room and took the paper from Sherlock. "Why," he said in a tone that he hoped fully conveyed his anger. "Did you booby-trap the door so that it would spill honey and shamrocks on whoever entered?"
Sherlock reached for another paper from the pile and opened it. "That was intended for someone else."
However, John was hardly in the mood for Sherlock's enigmatic responses. "Who could you possibly want to cover in honey and shamrocks?" he growled.
Sherlock hid his head behind the paper so John wouldn't see "the look" on his face. "I'd suggest you take a shower before those shamrocks become even harder to get off," he murmured, gesturing with one hand towards the bathroom.
John threw up his hands, causing a little shower of greenery to fall from him. "You're impossible you know," he muttered as he made his way to the bathroom. "Simply impossible. I mean, where the hell do you even get shamrocks in London?"
Sherlock ignored his flatmate's protests. He at least now had proof that the trap would work when its proper victim came along.
A second later his phone beeped. He took it up with one hand and clicked on the text message he'd just received.
"Honey and shamrocks? Bit disappointed."
Sherlock frowned and looked about the apartment.
A second text came a moment later.
"BTW, the six bolt was fun. We should do this more often -JM"
A bit childish, but then again Sherlock is a child so much of the time.
Reviews appreciated as always.