A/N: One-shots and scribbles for those rainy days; some in response to prompts and suggestions.

Chapter 01: Prompt: John is having a bad day and self-checkout machines are not for everyone … inspired by one very observing comedian.

Sherlock © ACD and BBC

Machines Maketh the Man

"Please place your first item on the scanner …"

The voice was beginning to grate on John's nerves. Slightly higher than a female-toned Sat-Nav, it spoke with a condescending lilt, telling him for the umpteenth time to scan the uncooperative bag of sprouts in his hand.

He ran the barcode carefully along the scanning strip, consciously aware of the self-checkout staff member hovering somewhere near his right shoulder, practically poised in a ready-to-assist position. They live for these moments, John thought, somewhat peevishly. He's just waiting for me to fail.

"Please place your first item on the scanner …"

John ran the sprouts through again.

"Please place your first item on the scanner …"

The member of staff had shuffled closer; the swipe-card which hung from the bright green ribbon around his neck clutched between eager fingers. His encouraging, seemingly-smug smile did nothing to dissipate John's growing annoyance.

John breathed out a whispered curse and punched in the barcode manually.

"Please place your first item on the scanner …"

"Oh come on," John hissed. He turned slightly as the store assistant drew closer, the can-I-help-you? faux smile locked into place.

"Problem, sir?" the young employee said, a tad too hopefully.

"No," John replied firmly. "No problem. I just–"

"Please place your first item on the scanner …"

"For the love of … I haven't done anything!" John retorted, his head snapping back around to glare at the self-checkout screen. The protest earned him several stares from the people using the neighbouring machines and those queuing behind, and the employee took a hasty step back.

"Now, sir–"

"Please place your first item on the–"

John slammed the sprouts into the scanner; then for good measure repeated the action. The machine jolted with the force. The screen flickered; the voice jumped and then faded into blissful nothingness.

John closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again every customer and employee within close proximity was staring at him, their expressions a mixture of bemusement, sympathy and surprise. The young assistant by his side impressively brushed the shock off first; he cleared his throat as he turned to John, chest puffed out as far as it would go, all business.

"Sir, I must ask you to–"

John had already gone, the automatic door closing behind him with a definitive swish.

"Sprouts," the checkout machine declared happily to no one in particular.

~o~

Back in Baker Street, Sherlock was sat comfortably in his armchair, fingers pressed and staring into an un-lit fireplace. He turned as John entered, eyes flicking briefly to the empty hands before resting on the doctor's face.

John sighed and sunk wearily into the opposite chair. He ran a hand over his face and met Sherlock's gaze. "I can't go back to that Asda."

Sherlock said nothing; one eyebrow quirked questioningly.

John glared at him. "Shut up."

~o~

End

~o~

A/N II: This idea came from John's argument with the self-checkout service during 'The Blind Banker' and comedian Lee Evans' brilliant observation of those condescending machines in his 'XL Tour'. If you wish to see it, type in 'Lee Evans Self Checkout' in Google and click on the first link. Not the best quality, however forty seconds of YouTube footage worth watching.

I for one cannot abide those self-checkout services … only because the machines don't like me. They sense distrust, I believe.