PROMPT: "So here Sherlock kept poisoned food in the fridge and Mrs. Hudson came and threw it away and put fresh food. Then John ate it and Sherlock comes back and sees john finishing the food and SHERLOCK PANICS."
Unbeta'd, unfortunately.
Ten months ago Sherlock Holmes would have sworn on his brother's cake addiction that his heart had never stopped for anything. (Other than that one time he nearly drowned in the Thames. His heart only ceased beating for a few short minutes, though, and someone managed to resuscitate him before any permanent damage could occur. Sherlock refused to acknowledge that experience.) However, when he returned from a brief visit to the Barts lab to find his flatmate, his friend, eating the contaminated salad he had left in the fridge, his heart did, in fact, stop. So did he.
For a whole minute Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. He knew, of course, that John would need to be treated for his poisoning, but the knowledge was lost in his nearly unprecedented fear.
John just looked up from his dish, flashing a brief little greeting of a smile, and Sherlock's brain, heart, and body burst into a flurry of motion. He pulled the dish away from John.
"Hey, Sherlock," John protested over Sherlock's loud questions and demands, being manhandled out of his chair at the table. "Stop! What are you-"
"-poisoned, John. I told you that anything on the second shelf was likely contaminated. We need to get you to hospital-"
John managed to twist his way out of Sherlock's increasingly frantic hands. "Poisoned? Sherlock, we talked about this!"
"I know!" Sherlock shouted, a horrible glint in his eyes. He looked almost as he had back in the middle of the Baskerville case. "And I told you that the second shelf was for experiments only."
"Sherlock-"
"We don't have time, John!" Sherlock spun him around again and shoved John's arms through his jacket sleeves.
"Mrs. Hudson," he called down the stairs ahead of them.
She took a moment longer than Sherlock cared to lose, but he continued to urge John forward as she rushed after them
"What is it, dear? What's going on?"
"We'll be out, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said over John's exclamations, demanding Sherlock 'Calm down already, you bloody tosser. And let me go!' "John's ingested some experimental food from the fridge."
John wrigled and pulled out of Sherlock's grasp long enough to straighten his jacket, grumbling to himself as Sherlock tried to hail a cab.
"The fridge?" Mrs. Hudson hurried after them. "I just changed out the groceries this afternoon, Sherlock," she said. Sherlock finally stopped clutching at John and turned to look at her.
"Ruined good food already. This is getting out of hand, Sherlock..." She muttered, and he ignored her as he dropped his hands from John's shoulder and neck. He stepped away from his friend.
"Oh."
John and the waiting cabby looked incredulous. "Oh?" John asked.
"'Oh, I wasn't aware that our land lady threw out my experiments in the fridge.' Oh." Sherlock slammed the cab door. "It appears there is no actual cause for alarm."
John, confused and turned around, watched the cabby curse and drive off before finally catching up. "False alarm- Sherlock, what was all that about?"
"Never mind, John," Sherlock gave him a fake smile, burying the remaining panic from the moments before. John didn't bother to call him on it.
"Mrs. Hudson, what did you do to the old bowl of salad in the fridge? The one you replaced?" Sherlock herded the other two into 221 with a hand on each back.
She turned to him just before reaching her little doorway. "I threw it in the bin, dear."
"With the pudding that was sitting next to it? It's all together in the bin?"
"Yes, dear, all of it."
Sherlock's eyes widened and he bounded back up to their flat. "Mrs. Hudson, John, you may want to stay out of the flat for the evening!"