1. Snap Out Of It - What's been happening in your world? What have you been up to?
There were too many types for Sherlock to process. Why does the country of Great Britain see fit to have so many different types of the delightful beverage that is tea? PG Tips was crossed off the list immediately considering there was an odd looking puppet/sock thing gracing the front of the box. It is tea, not a child's plaything. Sherlock's eyes wandered to the next row of boxes where there was another brand printed on to the box. Before Sherlock could even begin to consider if this tea would suffice for Mrs Hudson, images began filling his memory of days spent in Yorkshire with his despicable brother Mycroft and his parents. Wet, windy and strangely tranquil. No, Yorkshire Tea shall not be in 221B. The place was miserable enough with John not there and the ramblings of Mrs Hudson. The next was Twinings which seemed the most alluring so far. The most important factor (being the tea itself) were in a black box with a little pointless pattern on the front with no strange talking sock thing or unwanted memories clung to them.
The detective grabbed the box of Twinings from the shelf and began fast walking towards the aisle the biscuits were situated at. He felt as if the biscuits should be next to where the tea was situated. Tea and biscuits obviously go wonderfully together so why don't the shop save the hassle for people and place them together? This time he needed no time to think of what brand and what type of biscuit to buy because there is obviously only one winner; pink wafers. With a little smile and his heart skipping a beat, he scooped up 5 packets of pink wafers and headed towards the shops exit, purposely forgetting to pay for his much needed biscuits and tricky tea.
"Mrs Hudson! I feel as if I should give you the tea now otherwise they shall be under the sink for the rest of eternity." Sherlock shouted into the oddly silent hallway. There was no sound emitting from Mrs Hudson's apartment. No sound of the television or radio or the sound of clanking pots and pans. It then crossed Sherlock's mind how quiet the streets of central London were and the shop he purposefully stole from. The streets of London weren't echoing with the thump of pubs and clubs or the wailing of emergency vehicles. No alarmingly bright red buses trailing through the unusually empty roads. Sherlock was pulled out of his recollection of his way home at the sound of the locks of Mrs Hudson's front door. Sherlock watched as the door opened and Mrs. Hudson appeared in her dressing gown, all heavy-eyed and hair ruffled.
"Ah, Mrs Hudson" he says while handing her the cold box of Twinings, "I hope this tea will suffice considering I have absolutely no idea which tea brand you usually buy. There are too many to choose from. Britain as a nation is very indecisive."
Mrs Hudson didn't reply and instead stood with a vacant face looking directly at Sherlock. The detective furrowed his eyebrows at her facial expression, unsure why she looked so puzzled. Instead, Sherlock brushed off her silence and began walking towards the stairs. "I will be in the kitchen. Two sugars." He states before taking one last glance at her before ascending the stairs.
Sherlock arrived into 221B and paused by the doorway, looking out to the furnishings, paper and the random bits and pieces of his flat. His flat. It was odd even to think it was just his now. For so long he had shared the flat with John that it was quite unpleasant seeing it so empty. John's chair was correctly placed the left side of the fire still and for Sherlock it was extremely comforting to still have his chair in the flat. A piece of John always with him for when he is not there. And recently his visits have become less frequent. The arrival of the Watsons baby has disturbed the usual days of murder, mystery and mayhem.
Sherlock brushed away the thoughts and headed for his chair. While delicately placing himself in his chair, he grabbed a packet of his recently stolen pink wafers and began munching on the pink rectangles of happiness. Pink wasn't one of his favourite colours. Sherlock thought about the time he was made to wear a pink shirt by his parents. Absolutely hideous considering he also had chickenpox at the same time. He locked that memory firmly away and focused on eating the whole packet which was innocently waiting to be devoured.
Sherlock shuffled a little, the cold becoming more prominent as soon as he moved. He decided that was a bad decision and groaned before he began to focus on the voice that became louder by the second before it surfaced out of the mist and into the open.
"Sherlock!"
He jolted and sat bolt upright from the power in the voice, answering the best he could, "H-hey whoa… I didn't… oh." He was fully aware of the figure in front of him and to his surprise, it was John.
"Rough night?" John joked, placing himself in his chair, gesturing towards the pink crumbs over Sherlock's jacket and the half eaten packet of wafers wrapped in his arms.
"Hmph." Sherlock replied flatly, brushing the remainder of crumbs from himself. He felt a little embarrassed at the state of him but then again John has only seen him in a sheet at Buckingham Palace. Sherlock heavily sighed at the memory before he was interrupted.
"So, um, any improvements on the Blessington case?" John awkwardly asked, focusing more on the pink wafer packet that Sherlock was still cradling. John knew he liked pink wafers but not to this extent. Maybe it was his new addiction and on that thought, John smiled slightly, laughing inside much more than intended.
Sherlock sighed once again, "No. I visited the practice out of hours last night to see if our two sly men would return to collect something they didn't retrieve the first time however, there was nothing. Not even an attempt of a break in. Thoroughly disappointed if I must say."
John nodded before falling silent, his eyes still fixed on Sherlock clutching his pink wafers. It was amusing to see Sherlock attached to something so simple and unusual. John glanced up to find the detective's brows furrowed and eyes piercing through him in an innocent way.
"What?" Sherlock replied innocently, unaware of John biting the inside of his cheek.
"W-wh… Why are you holding that?"
"Holding what?" he replied, innocently, once again.
"That." John stated, gesturing towards the pink wafer packet. Was Sherlock actually unaware of himself clutching the packet or was he trying to act innocent? John's bet was on the latter.
The detective glanced down at his arms wrapped around the pink wafers like it was a precious childhood teddy. He doesn't even remember falling asleep here in his chair and he certainly doesn't remember Mrs. Hudson bringing him tea. He quickly glanced around the surrounding tables for a tea cup or pot of tea but there was nothing.
"What did you do with my tea cup?" Sherlock asked, only to be disappointed in the answer.
"What cup? I haven't touched a cup," John replied, leaning forward a little, "Look, Sherlock, we need to get on with this case. Your inbox is bursting and Lestrade isn't exactly going to solve it without you, is he?"
Sherlock, now annoyed snapped his head towards John, "Get on with this case? Exactly where have you been the past few days, weeks even?" he bitterly replied. How could John even have the balls to say that to him when he has been waiting on John the past weeks? Sherlock stood, "Mrs Hudson! Where is that tea I asked for SEVEN hours ago?" he shouted to the lower layers of the building, stalking over to the living room door, wafers falling to the ground in a domino fashion.
"What? Me?" John exclaimed, standing from his chair and turning to face Sherlock by the door, "Has it slipped your mind that I have a baby and a wife to look after? Hm? The world doesn't revolve around you, Sherlock!"
"Obviously not because according to you, the world revolves around the sun," Sherlock said sarcastically, turning to face the doctor who was now stood right by him.
"Not this again! It is more significant than you are letting on, Sherlock. Even more significant than your pink wafers!" he yelled, the room falling silent.
The detective kept his eyes on the doctor, his eyes giving away that he was somewhat hurt at the fact John was taking the piss out of him for his love of pink wafers. Sherlock could do the same with John and his love for jumpers. He disliked arguing with John but this has been building up for weeks. It had been awkward between them when they were together. The detective didn't know if he was imagining it or if it was an actual problem. Unfortunately, the detective realised it was the latter.
The silence was sliced by the sound of Sherlock's mobile echoing into the room. John backed away knowing it was pointless to argue with Sherlock. He always had to have the last word, always had to win. The Reichenbach Fall was and still is a perfect example of this.
The detective dug out his phone, a little smirk working its way on his face before answering the phone. "Yes?" he rudely answered, the smirk now forming into a full sized grin. John watched on, impatiently waiting for Sherlock to hang up to let him in on the gossip.
"Marvellous" Sherlock happily replied, hanging up before grabbing his coat.
"What? What's happened?" the doctor quickly said, watching the detective put his coat on. John stood, taking a step closer to him as he waited for Sherlock's reply.
"Mr. Blessington has been found hanged in his bedroom." Sherlock replied, a little excitement in his voice.
"What? When?"
"This morning," Sherlock replied, picking up some essentials before heading towards the door, "Come on John, time is of the essence..," he paused by the door, looking back at the doctor who looked lost, "The game is on!"
And on that note the detective left the room and descended the stairs, shortly followed by the doctor, who, in all honesty, had missed the thrill of the chase.