Sherlock stood stock-still in the centre of the bathroom, staring at the jar in his hand in disbelief. He felt as if he had stumbled upon something very secret and very forbidden, and was now unsure what to do about it.
Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective – unsure. The very idea was absurd. In fact, he had to take several moments just to come to grips with what he was feeling. And what was he feeling? Betrayal? Most certainly. Confusion? Definitely. Incredulity? Oh, absolutely. He had discovered a side of John he had not known existed.
Because, yes – the item that the detective now held between his pale, slender fingers must belong to John. There was no one else. It certainly wasn't Sherlock's. It had been in hiding, too, that much was obvious. John did not want Sherlock to know about this. And it had been going on a long time, as well – the seal of the jar was broken and the contents were depleted almost to nothingness. John had been smart about covering this up. Deliberate.
There was a knock at the door. "Sherlock?" came the hesitant call. "You've been in there an awful long time… everything alright?"
Sherlock could not find words. "I… I…"
The doctor in John took this as a bad sign. Sherlock was never speechless. "I'm coming in," he announced, and opened the door, ready to respond to whatever emergency lay beyond.
John's expression mirrored Sherlock's shock as he came face-to-face with the detective, who was fully clothed and obviously just fine. Except for the look on his face. "What's the matter…?" John questioned, bracing himself for the worst.
"What's this?" Sherlock demanded, scraping together some composure. He held the jar out to John for his inspection.
The doctor blinked. "Bubble bath," he replied. "It's bubble bath."
"Yours?" pressed Sherlock.
John coloured as he put the pieces together. "Yes!" he said defensively. "It isn't so far-fetched an idea that a man should enjoy a nice bubble bath once in a while!"
"I see…"
"I'm not ashamed!"
"Of course not."
FIN.