Contact Lenses
Sherlock glared intensely at the little object which laid on his index finger, a contact lens. For the past minute or so, he has been murdering his eye trying to get the bloody thing in. He tried once more. He took his left middle finger and lifted his top eye lid. So far, so good. He then took his other middle finger and pulled his bottom eye lid. Carefully, he put the contact lens on his eye. POP! It fell out. Sherlock slammed his fist on the counter top and let out a grunt of annoyance. John peeked his head into the bathroom, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Is... is everything alright?" he asked, daunted by the noises emanating from the bathroom. He became even more perplexed when he saw what Sherlock was doing. Sherlock stared at the sink counter in disgust. John didn't have the slightest guess on what was happening. His first thought was along the lines of anorexia, but he pushed the thought away, thinking it was too absurd to be true.
"Get out." Sherlock grumbled, still glaring at the contact lens.
John stepped into the bathroom, to see what was going on, and stood beside Sherlock. "What are you doing? I could hear you from out there."
Sherlock directed his glaring gaze over to John. "Get out." John rolled his eyes and asked what he was doing once more. "Can't you see I'm busy?" Sherlock muttered, "Get out."
John then noticed the contact lens case that laid on the counter, as well as the contact lens that Sherlock had been glaring at. "You wear contacts?" he asked.
"Yes." Sherlock grumbled, slightly embarrassed. He, pretending John was not there, proceeded to try to get the damn thing in his eye.
John studied him. "You don't seem the type to wear contact lenses, Sherlock."
Sherlock lifted his eyelid and then the bottom eyelid, once more. "How so?" he questioned, still completely focused at the task at hand.
"Well," John started, "You're very impatient and get annoyed easily. You also have to put your attention into it, I would think, and your mind is always buzzing with things."
Sherlock took his middle finger and ever so slowly touched his eye. POP! Sherlock let out a noise that was half whimper, half growl. "I do it," Sherlock explained, glaring at himself in the mirror, "Because it allows me to move more freely and use my peripheral vision. When I where glasses, they bobble all around and it pisses me off, and also I can't see above me or below or on the sides of me."
John rised his eyebrow. "Most humans can't."
Sherlock said exasperatedly, "No! I mean-" He sighed, "Peripheral vision. You know what that is. It's where you can see-"
"It was a joke, Sherlock." John let out a slightly nervous laugh. "You just made it seem like you can see like a horse or something."
Sherlock glared at John as he tersely said, "I hate contacts."