She was watching the commercial when her cheeks went red with realization.
London was stifling, the tube was crowded and she just couldn't wait to get rid of the last stitch on her body. She transferred her new toiletries to the bathroom, looked at the paper bag and decided to tackle the groceries later.
As she stepped into the water and opened her new shampoo bottle, she groaned. The new conditioner was in the paper bag.
"Well, I'll live with frizzy hair for a day!"
She dried her hands, started the music on her phone at blast and stepped into the shower.
Heaven!
Splurging on the new portable speakers just for her bathroom was a good idea…..as long as they remained dry.
Washing her hair, she literally felt the dirt flow away. And the new conditioner smelt as fresh as she thought it would when she bought it.
How she loved when the new products were actually good!
Stepping out of the shower, she felt fresh and alive.
Rather, she was feeling alive enough to want to start the coffee. Wrapping her dressing gown around her, she padded to the kitchen.
And almost had a heart attack.
"How many times! Don't bloody enter my flat as if it's the bloody NSY lobby!"
"I knocked," Sherlock deigned to respond.
"I should probably curtsy in thanks."
"I started the coffee. Good choice, your other Colombian brand was as Colombian as I am Moorish."
She huffed to her room, thanking her stars that she had her dressing gown on and did not stride out just in her towel.
Sherlock was already having his coffee when she came out wearing her at-home clothes.
"Good choice. And not only coffee," he smirked and left the flat, leaving her wondering if there were a few marbles loose in his otherwise godly head.
She locked the flat door, took the remote and settled for some lovely, crappy telly.
Oh the coffee was delicious. She just needed to find a new place to hide it, Sherlock would finish this in a week and replacing it would bring tears of happiness to her credit card company.
The perfect evening, atleast till takeaway arrived.
And then the commercial played. Same hair products that she had used today.
"Correct, for once," she threw praise at the telly.
And then-
The coffee cup remained suspended half way to the mouth.
Sherlock had handled the bag of groceries. And the forgotten conditioner had miraculously arrived in her shower shelf.
She groaned, banged the coffee mug on the table and hid her face in her hands.
That smug bastard!
What she would give to wipe that smirk off his face.
Atleast her new speakers would survive, no more music in bathroom.
And from now on, religious use of the lock on her bathroom door.