Sherlock Holmes and the Haunting of the Horrendous Hiccups
Hic.
Hic.
Hic.
"Sherlock, what the hell is that noise?" John yelled over the blaring of the telly, casting a glance over his shoulder. He'd turned the telly up, too loud, when Sherlock had started grating away on his violin. Now, the violin had stopped, John hadn't turned the telly down, and there was a new noise coming from Sherlock's room.
Hic.
"Sherlock?" John griped, looking back to the telly before standing, punching the mute button as he did. "What are you up to?" He trudged through the kitchen and down the hall, peering into Sherlock's room. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock's head snapped to John when the doctor stepped into his room, a quick, heavy exhale leaving his lips. It seemed as if the detective had been holding his breath, although John couldn't fathom-
Hic.
Sherlock's hands flew to his mouth, a look of disgusted annoyance crossing his eyes.
Ah.
"You have the hiccups?" John asked, his previous irritation melting away as a smile caught his lips.
"No. Why would I have the hic-cups." Sherlock's face was unreadable as his sentence was disturbed by another hiccupping noise, no matter how he tried to disguise it.
"Do you want the scientific explanation for that or the smartass remark?" John replied, leaning against the doorframe.
Sherlock hiccupped again behind his hands. His expression melted from one of annoyance to utter exasperation, which the latter was a look generally reserved for anyone who said that they read John's blog.
"John, what do I do? It isn't stopping! I've been holding my breath, but it just keeps- hic- happening." John started chuckling, ignoring the glare that Sherlock gave him. "It isn't funny! It's atrocious and it won't- hic- let me think!" He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it in agitation. "Help me!" he ordered, stepping closer to John.
"Okay, okay..." John laughed, waving Sherlock into the kitchen. "Have you tried sugar?"
"I have hiccups, not- hic- a desire to form cavities."
John rolled his eyes, grabbing the sugar container from the cupboard. He paused in unscrewing the lid, flashing a glance at Sherlock. "You haven't poisoned it, have you?" Sherlock shook his head irritably. "Okay." He grabbed a spoon and handed both to Sherlock. "A spoonful, on the back of your tongue."
Sherlock made a face, but did as John suggested. After placing the sugar in his mouth, he slapped the canister and spoon back on the counter before turning to head back to his room.
Well, that had gone we-
Hic.
Sherlock stopped in his tracks. John looked at him, fighting the overwhelming urge to laugh. "Okay, that didn't work. Water, then?"
"What, why? Water's... dull," Sherlock replied, looking back over his shoulder.
"Because I don't feel like making you tea right now," John replied, pinching a bottle from the fridge and tossing it to Sherlock. "Just drink. See if it helps."
Sherlock sighed, popping the top and pressing the bottle to his lips. One second, two seconds, three seconds... Unfortunately, the moment when Sherlock stopped drinking, to breath, most likely, the hiccups returned.
At Sherlock's face, just then, John really couldn't contain his laughter.
"John, it's- it's not funny!" Sherlock repeated, slightly breathless from his long draw from the bottle.
"You know that if you hiccup one hundred times, you die?" John joked, taking the bottle back from Sherlock before the latter could drown himself.
"What? That's pre- hic- posterous. It's a myth. I don't concern myself with-" He hiccupped again, and John stopped laughing when a short groan escaped from Sherlock's lips.
"Okay, hang on. I suppose it's pointless to try and scare you-"
Hic.
"John..." Sherlock muttered, curling his arms around his torso.
"Yes, I know. There's no real medical solution..." John frowned, looking around the kitchen. "I don't know, Sherlock... Oh! Peanut butter!" John rummaged through the cabinets again. "Do we have peanut butter? Hang on, I'll see if Mrs. Hudson has any. Stay there."
Sherlock groaned over another hiccup, plopping his head onto the kitchen table.
"Don't spill anything!" John chastised, pulling a particularly vile looking beaker away from Sherlock's hair. "I'll be right back."
A few more hiccups, peanut butter, and a few steps back into the flat later, John grabbed the spoon from earlier and got a dollop of the substance on the utensil. "Here, Sherlock."
Sherlock raised his head and took the spoon, placing it in his mouth. He paused with the spoon in his mouth before removing the spoon, swallowing the peanut butter. John watched him carefully, Sherlock watching him in return. Five seconds... ten seconds...
Sherlock let out a deep breath. "Oh, finally."
John smiled, feeling pleased with himself as he dropped the spoon into the sink and turned to grab the jar of peanut butter.
"I shudder to think of the many insect body parts that I've just consumed, but sometimes, desperate measures are called for," Sherlock continued, standing with a wince. "Unreliable diaphragm."
"Wait, insect parts? What are you on about?"
"One hundred grams of peanut butter can hold up to thirty or more insect fragments, one rodent hair, and no more than twenty-five milligrams of rodent feces and still be considered non-hazardous, under the law."
John frowned, looking down at the peanut butter jar in hand. "... Thanks for that, Sherlock," he said, shaking his head. "Thanks a lot," he muttered, trailing back into the living room.
He would never touch a peanut butter and banana sandwich again. All thanks to Sherlock's case of stubborn hiccups.
And what did he get out of it? Not even a thank you. He got aversion to peanut butter.
Well, that was the hazard of living with Sherlock Holmes.
... Damn. He had really liked peanut butter and banana sandwiches, too.
Hic.
John froze, staring wide-eyed at the telly without really seeing it. Was that...
Hic.
"John!"
Oh, damn.
I have this weird idea that John would like peanut butter and banana sandwiches, although I've never tried one myself. Anyway, I've seen a couple hiccup stories that end with a surprise kiss, and me, being the non-shipper, wanted to write my own semi-cute thing. There you go. xD
Credit goes to R.A. Gallagher for persuading me to mould the ending in the way I did. :3 Thank you.
Thanks for reading!