Shampoo and Sheets

by KathyG

In this two-chapter gap-filler to LyricalSinger's story, "You've Got a Friend," Sherlock is most dissatisfied with John's shampoo, and after having slept on Sherlock's quality bedsheets for several weeks following his accident, John is dissatisfied with his own regular sheets and pillowcases. Will Sherlock do something about it?

1. Chapter 1

Shampoo and Sheets

By KathyG.

In this gap-filler to LyricalSinger's story, "You've Got a Friend," which can be found on "https colon forward slash forward slash www dot fanfiction dot net forward slash s forward slash 12315224 forward slash 1 forward slash You hyphen ve hyphen Got hyphen a hyphen Friend" and "http colon forward slash forward slash archiveofourown dot org forward slash works forward slash 11340162 forward slash chapters/25379586", Sherlock is most dissatisfied with John's shampoo, and after having slept on Sherlock's quality bedsheets for several weeks following his accident, John is dissatisfied with his own regular sheets and pillowcases. Will Sherlock do something about it? Thank you, LyricalSinger, for beta-reading my story!

Chapter 1

Sherlock gently slipped into his room, where he had helped John to bed a half-hour earlier. To his satisfaction, the former army doctor was deep in slumber. Good, he thought. The painkiller, anti-inflammatory, and sedative will ensure that he sleeps heavily, and it will be a while before his sleep pattern goes into REM mode. I have time if I hurry. His bedroom first.

Just as quietly, he slipped out his bedroom, his shoes clicking on the bare floor, and minced softly toward the flat's front door. He crept up the stairs toward John's bedroom on the third floor. Opening the door, he switched on the overhead light and approached the bed. Light flooded the bedroom. The blinds had remained shut ever since John's accident, so he didn't bother to check on them.

Throwing back the bedcovers, Sherlock examined the sheets and pillowcases; at one point, he ran his fingers over them. Straightening up and putting his hands on his hips, he took a long look at the folded twin sheets and pillowcases stacked neatly on one of the shelves against the wall, and then, furrowing his eyebrows in consternation, shook his head. This will never do, Sherlock thought, roughing his dark curly hair, as he turned back to the covers on John's bed and rubbed his hand over the top sheet's regular cotton surface. These things are horrid!

He scowled at the sheets and pillowcases on the bed and then the ones on the shelf. These plain cotton sheets are simply unacceptable. Not only does John's shampoo need to be replaced, so do his sheets and pillowcases!

Immediately, Sherlock stripped John's bed, removing the sheets and pillowcases from it, and then he moved over to the shelves to retrieve the stack of linens sitting there. Flipping the light switch off, Sherlock gently closed the door behind him with one hand while clasping the sheets and pillowcases against his chest with the other, and returned downstairs to their flat. He entered the bathroom, turned on the light above the sink, approached the tub, and picked up John's bottle of shampoo off the shelf in the back corner of the tub.

Before I go to bed tonight, this goes into the dustbin outside, and so do his sheets, he thought. When I pick up his prescription tomorrow, I will get him a better-quality shampoo he'll be able to afford on his budget, and some new sheets and pillowcases for his bed.

Careful to make no noise, Sherlock laid the shampoo on the sheets and pillowcases, and then, leaving the flat, took everything downstairs to the front door. Once outside, he binned the lot.

XXXXXXX

The next day, Sherlock entered the flat, a couple of bulging shopping bags dangling from both hands. He had been to the pharmacy to pick up John's prescriptions, and then he had engaged in some extra shopping at Harrod's, followed by a stop at Mark and Spencer. John was fast asleep on the sofa, having taken his pain medication earlier, and Mrs. Hudson was seated in the doctor's armchair, keeping an eye on the convalescing doctor, her hands folded in her lap. The sunlight poured in through the windows, forming rectangles of reflected light on the floor at the edges of the room; a shadow covered most of the carpet that spanned most of the living-room floor. Twisting her upper back to face Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson raised a finger to her lips. Nodding, Sherlock entered the kitchen, where, setting the bags on the table, he rummaged through one of them to remove a small white paper sack containing John's latest prescription.

"Don't say anything to John," he whispered, as he handed the sack to Mrs. Hudson. "I've made some purchases for John that I don't want him to know about yet."

Smiling Mrs. Hudson nodded. "I won't," she whispered back. Grinning, Sherlock returned to the kitchen and slipped a couple of bottles out of the same shopping bag. He took them to the bathroom, where he left them in the cabinet. He would move them to the shelf in the back of the bathtub/shower when John was able to wash his own hair once more.

This shampoo and conditioner will work as well as my own, he thought, gazing at the bottles, and they aren't nearly as costly as mine are. John's hair is healthy now, and I intend to make sure it stays that way. He's been taking his own baths as of late, and the day is fast approaching when he will be washing his own hair once more.

The cabinet door clicked shut as Sherlock closed it. And now to make John's bed before he wakes up. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he returned to the kitchen, where he picked up the bags and exited via the hall door to go upstairs to John's bedroom.

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