Author's Note: I set myself the rather unusual challenge of writing a fic containing the line "Sherlock eats a badger"—this is the result...
If You Go Down to the Woods Tonight...
There is a distinctive pattern to the stomping as John ascends the stairs, a tell-tale sign that the date tonight has Not Gone Well. That, and John's only been out for half an hour. Sherlock puts his feet up on the sofa and schools his face into a bored expression, when in fact he's curious as to what went wrong this time—such stories are often highly entertaining.
John arrives at the top of the stairs and discards his coat carelessly onto a kitchen chair. He then stomps into the living room but doesn't sit down, only paces. He still holds a box of 'Woodland Chocolates'.
Sherlock's fake boredom is beginning to turn genuine as John's frustrated pacing continues. "Well?" he prompts impatiently.
"I told her how much I admired her work at the wildlife sanctuary," John says, bitter.
"Good."
"No, not good—because it wasn't her that rescues hedgehogs and rehabilitates otters—oh no, it was the last one!"
Sherlock winces. "Not good."
"No." Spent, John finally flops into his armchair. He eyes the dark green box in his hands. With a little growl he tears it open and eats a little chocolate fox. He reaches over to hold the box under Sherlock's nose.
"No, thanks, I—" he stops at John's glare. With a shrug, Sherlock eats a badger.
THE END