John pushed the shopping cart through the automatic doors as Sherlock sat in the basket, wearing his pajamas, "Why couldn't you wear real clothes?" he asked. He knew that Sherlock had been off the case for a couple weeks, but he was positive that the detective's ability to throw a pair of old jeans on and to remove his dressing gown still stayed sharp.
"These are real clothes, John, I'm not naked," Sherlock replied, tugging his grey cotton shirt down so that it covered all of him and wrapping his blue dressing down tighter. John had forced him to leave the house to go grocery shopping with him, so he might as well be as difficult as possible so that John might give up and they could go home early.
"You know what I mean," John said, annoyance seeping into his voice as he pushed the cart containing Sherlock down the cereal aisle, the detective grabbing things off the shelf and then shoving them back into the wrong places, "Sherlock, stop that," John said, slapping the hand that was reaching for another box, "Only take stuff down that you actually want to eat," he grabbed down a box, stared at the nutrition facts, then placed in in the cart on top of Sherlock.
The detective threw the box towards his feet with a loud exclamation, "John, can we go home, John?" he pestered, becoming annoyed with the store and longing to be back on his couch in Baker Street as the few people wandering the grocery store were far too easy to read, and the mystery of the spilled milk on aisle four was currently being mopped up by a acne-ridden teenager.
"No, Sherlock, be patient," John said, his own patience was dwindling quite quickly as Sherlock still picked things off the shelf then returned them to the wrong spots, even as they switched aisles and John repeatedly guided Sherlock's hand back to his side, "Really, stop that," he said again, swatting the hand away from the box of plain oatmeal.
Sherlock sunk into the cart, now half-way full of various food and household items, "Fine," he said, fiddling with the belt of his dressing gown before he threw the box of earl grey tea at John with a childlike giggle.
This went on for a few minutes before they had finally made it to the check-out line, where a woman with a bright red beehive waited to scan their items. She eyed Sherlock curiously, then shrugged before running the few item over the scanner, smacking the gum in her mouth as she did so. "That'll be £30" she said, clearly bored as she stuffed the food into a couple of plastic bags and sent them on their way.
John wheeled Sherlock out of the doors and took the bags out from beside him as they reached the cart return. Sherlock climbed out of the cart and trudged alongside John before they got a cab back to Baker Street, where Sherlock was finally allowed to return to his quiet brooding, alone.