Where do I begin?
Sherlock has been acting quite strangely recently; that is, stranger than usual.
Always giving me weird looks.
I tried asking.
He just stared for a second and walked away, all dramatic like.
What a curious person.
John looked down with contempt at his laptop screen. This entry was not, in fact, about their latest case. How disappointing.
Sherlock entered the room suddenly, causing John to start. He shut his laptop and looked up at his flatmate. Sherlock, still wearing his pajamas and robe, stalked into the kitchen to retrieve something. John assumed it was another one of his experiments. Without a single glance in John's direction, Sherlock marched out of the flat, down the stairs, and outside. From his spot in the chair, John could hear loud banging noises coming from the street below.
John wasn't curious enough to go see what it was the detective was up to.
The sound of the door opening and slamming again reached John. He looked toward the stairs leading to the flat, expecting Sherlock to come barging in at any moment.
It took only a few moments for Sherlock to reach the main room.
John, upon seeing him, gave a small yelp.
"What. Were. You. Doing." John made a point to emphasize each word.
"Merely standard procedure, John. The quality of the air this morning suggests a storm later on." Sherlock was covered in mud and filth, with bits of torn up weeds scattered along the front of his outfit. It appeared that he was now holding some dirt covered ornaments.
"I was collecting my subjects for the decomposition experiments that I have been conducting for the past few weeks." Here, he gave a tired sigh, as if he were bored. He looked around, as if searching for a place to put his fragile things. "As you know," he continued, "I've already collected the data I need for decomposition in temperate oceanic climates. I must keep these dry." He held up his hand to show John what he was talking about. Out of disgust, John looked away, afraid that what he might see would revolt him beyond repair.
"All right..." John began, "But don't put them anywhere near the tea." He looked up to make sure Sherlock was listening. "Got it?"
Sherlock merely nodded slightly, not even bothering to change his focus of attention.
His face lit up and he started for the fireplace, past where John was sitting with his legs crossed. John followed Sherlock's movements, simply trying to keep up with where not to look. Once Sherlock had finished, he turned sharply toward John and spoke quickly, though eloquently,
"John, I'm not busy this afternoon, and seeing as there's no cases for me – us, I mean, to solve, I was hoping you wouldn't mind coming with me to possibly pick something up."
John was about to protest, to say that he had been planning to meet up with someone, but Sherlock spoke too fast.
"Good, then. I'll be back in a few moments. I hope you're ready." With that, he headed toward his room, his blue robe neatly spread out behind him as he strode.
"Sherlock, wait – "
"No time to chat, Dr. Watson, this is of the utmost importance."
Okay, this is my first Sherlock fic, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks.