Just a quick one-shot, to fill the time while I'm trying to untangle my other story! This idea has been niggling at me for ages, so I finally decided to get it written – enjoy! And if you enjoy – please review, it help me to write!
It wasn't so much a *Bang!* - more a *Phtttt!* - never the less it had John dashing up the stairs to the flat in double-quick time. There was smoke filling the flat, and the smell was appalling.
Sherlock appeared in the doorway, a semi-frown creasing his forehead.
"What have you done this time Sherlock? I mean, seriously Sherlock, what?"
Sherlock's frown deepened.
"Why do you assume….?"
"Because the flat's filled with black smoke and the kitchen seems to have exploded AGAIN!"
"Ah"
John shook his head and peered around the doorway. The smoke seemed to be emanating from what was left of the microwave, its door hanging off, and what looked like….no, wait…is that a melted face? And what the hell was that blackish goo that was dripping down the cupboard opposite where the (now deceased) microwave stood?
"Sherlock" he was using that voice – the one that meant business – the one that made Sherlock feel like a school child who'd forgotten to do a particularly important piece of homework. "Please tell me that isn't a face I can see dripping onto the counter…"
"No, of course it isn't….well….it is, but….it's not!"
John's eyes resembled saucers as he turned to look at his flatmate, his MAD flatmate! Taking a step back from the kitchen doorway he drew himself, shoulders back, John the soldier very present in every muscle.
"No, Sherlock," he said quietly, as if to a particularly stupid child, "it's not a face now, now it's just a…." he really hoped he didn't look as sick as he felt, "it's just…a mess! What possible reason could there be? What experiment this time?"
Sherlock took in the slightly greenish tinge in John's skin, the shallow breaths that and swallow reflex that indicated his flatmate's struggle against a need to be sick. His eyes widened as he realised exactly what John was thinking, and hurried to correct his mistake.
"No, no John, it's not what you think!" he grasped John's elbow and led – or rather dragged – him to the living room, pushing him down into his favourite chair. "You've got it wrong…"
"Wrong?" his flatmate yelped jumping to his feet again and pointing shakily towards the still smoking kitchen. "I'll tell you what's wrong, Sherlock, that….that mess…." His voice tailed off as he noticed the slightly sheepish grin on the other man's face. "What?"
"It's not just a mess, John, it's a misunderstanding." Sherlock struggled to straighten his face. "It's a mannequin, really, just the face of a mannequin."
"And you blew up the microwave with it…why?" John wasn't sure that he really wanted to know the answer, he was just too relieved that it wasn't a real face…..
"Ah, well, I wanted to know what the effect of internal heat would be on a human brain so I put one into the mannequin's head….."
"SHERLOCK!"
There are times when retreat is the best option….and Sherlock decided now was one of those times!