A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.
Hope you enjoy.
Chapter: John's Decision.
Rating: PG
John sat down across from Sherlock, leaning forward and looking at his friend very seriously. He'd decided to do this over the last week, seeing Sherlock look quizzically at the fellows of Scotland Yard when they made reference to an internet joke, had made up his mind. A young policeman had commented on Sherlock being the personification of "Leroy Jenkins" Sherlock's eyebrows had risen, then rose twice over when everyone laughed at his lack of knowledge. Sherlock hadn't cared, but John sure as hell had. He was now on a mission to get Sherlock to join at least a few social networking sites. Apparently his presence did not go unnoticed, the next moment Sherlock peeked over his book to look at John.
The pure look of determination on John's face made him look back down. John had his tongue on his upper lip, and his bottom lip pursed around it. It was John's I'm-about-to-talk-about-something-Shelrock-isn't-going-to-want-to-talk-about look. Sherlock decided, then, that whatever it was, the answer was no.
"Sherlock..."
"No."
"You don't even know what it is yet."
"Doesn't matter. The answer is no, John."
"Hear me out!"
Sherlock sighed, and put his book down on his knees, John wasn't persuasive, but maybe if he humored the man he'd drop it, "What?"
John knew that tone. It was Sherlock's I'm-just-pretending-to-listen-so-you-don't-get-cross-and-quit-making-me-tea tone. John already felt he was losing control of the situation, and the conversation hadn't even begun yet. For a moment (and just a moment,) John seemed uncertain of what he was about to request, and while Sherlock was chalking that up to a win, John inhaled, then spoke: "I want you to get a Facebook. And download an instant messenger."
Sherlock was perplexed, so he said nothing to encourage John to elaborate. He had been requested stranger things (for cases, of course!) but he still hadn't expected this. Why should John care if he had one of those silly things? He had no need for them. No interest at all.
John took the silence as a refusal, but he decided to elaborate,and grasp the situation before it became entirely hopeless, "Now, listen. I think you'll rather like social networking. No- no. Don't pull that face. Listen to me. It's fun. You can add everyone from the Yard, and you can message me instantly when I'm upstairs, or not here, or when my phone is off."
"Or I could just call for you. Like I do now." Sherlock replied, "Or text. Like I do now."
"Well, there's another reason too, Sherlock."
"Such as?"
"Well, often now people run into trouble online. You know. People get kidnapped, and- or murdered from too much social networking."
To this, Sherlock raised his brows with interest, "But I already 'social network' with my site-"
"No body reads your bloody site!"
Sherlock glared, put-off, "Then what makes you think they'll add me on bookface?"
"Facebook, Sherlock. Keep up." John smiled, and then gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back because Sherlock's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he gave John the dirtiest glare he could muster. Which, if you were wondering, is pretty dirty.
"No." he said, now just being petulant and returned to his book.
John plucked the book from his friends hands, and Sherlock glared, "You can advertise your services on Facebook, Sherlock. You could get little things to tide you over between big cases."
Sherlock snatched his book back, "No."
John sighed, and decided to drop it.
For now.