First things first. My very first "BBC Sherlock" fanfiction :D And again i am so very sorry for grammer/spelling mistakes. Hope you like it.
I DON'T OWN BBC SHERLOCK! ALL RIGHTS BELONGS TO BBC AND THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS OF THE SHOW!
I just had to write something funny after i have seen the finale of season 2 yesterday.
Don't forget: My first language isn't english.
Master Detective?
No, not today ...
Phrases such as "Nothing can make him nervous," or "A human? No, he is everything, but not a human, "were for Sherlock Holmes and his roommate and at the same time best friend Doctor John Watson on the agenda and when John was quite honest:
He couldn't take it anymore!
Day by day he had to listen to sentences like this and no one seems to care about him.
But there had been a day which John remembered very well.
A day on which the great Sherlock Holmes had been anything but great.
A day on which he had behaved like a normal person...well, more or less.
We are talking about Sherlock Holmes here.
John had to grin and he leaned back in his armchair as he remembered a day that wasn't long ago.
It was on an evening like this.
He and Sherlock had just come back home from a new case and of course the detective had sat down in front of his laptop and continued to work immediately.
At least he wanted to, but John had been faster than him.
"Sherlock, everyone needs a break from time to time, even you," he had said, and Sherlock was about to begin his famous answers but the ex-soldier had taken him the wind out of the sails.
"Drink one with me."
These four little words seemed to have brought the most masterful detective of all time out of the socket. John remembered well his confused look, and his grin widened.
Without hesitation he had given his best friend a glass with whiskey.
The best he had been able to find.
It had not been easy for him at the moment to keep a straight face, because he knew that Sherlock was not the type for hard alcohol. He was a tea drinker and whiskey wouldn't fit in his scheme and that's what John had taken to his advantage and it had worked well, since Sherlock had been too proud to deny the glass with whisky and so he had drunk it.
It had not been half an hour until the Whiskey had its full effect and Sherlock looked as if he was now on another planet.
Grinning, he had watched how the otherwise emotionless acting detective had lost his stoic facade piece by piece. It had started with a grin, prompting loud, senseless laughter followed and when he tried to get up, he had stumbled right over the small coffee table in front of him. Instead of cursing he had laughed even more and in that moment, John could not hold back any longer and he had laughed along with his friend.
Especially when Sherlock had tried to get up again.
He had also managed to do so, but only after he had cleared half the table in the process and when he was staggering through their small living room, he also had torn down everything in his reach.
And John?
He lay on the floor with tears in his eyes from laughing so much.
It was a sight for the gods and his plan had just worked masterfully.
He had proved that the oh-so-mighty Sherlock Holmes was just a human like everyone else. He could pretend to be cold and emotionless as he wanted, but it took only a small glass of whiskey and the detective acted like he was from another world.
John remembered that after a while Sherlock had started to sing a few songs from the charts and of course John had recorded it with his cell phone.
Of course Sherlock knew nothing about that what was even better for him.
John's grin turned evil.
Perhaps Mycroft would be interested in these videos?
John chuckled as he thought about Mycroft's face when he would see his little brother like that.
The doctor was about to pull out his cell phone and watch the video again when suddenly the front door flew open and a pretty down-looking Sherlock Holmes entered the small apartment.
"Sherlock?"
John got no answer, only one of the infamous Sherlock Holmes glances and the detective threw his coat into the next best corner and threw himself down on the small sofa which stood against the wall not far away from John.
Then he turned his head to his roommate and looked at him in silence.
John grinned, which made the detective frown, and he put the bottle filled with whiskey on the small table in front of him.
"Well, Sherlock? How about it? Let us drink again one together?"
The only answer that John got then was a pillow, which flew in his direction, followed by an annoyed eye rolling from the detective and Sherlock turned his back to him as his roommate started to laugh loudly.
Never again he would touch this infernal stuff...
The End
