Quick note: Happy 16th birthday, Jo-Anna! Hope your day is as awesome as you are!
Texts and Tea
Bzzzt.
John turned over, reaching for his buzzing phone on the end table. After a minute of searching in the dark, he finally found it. The screen blinded him as he opened it. He squinted, trying to get the text to focus.
John. –SH
The doctor just groaned. He dropped his phone back in its spot, desperately hoping that his flatmate would just leave him alone.
Bzzt.
Yeah, because that was going to happen. Sighing, he opened his phone again.
John. –SH
what –JW
He closed his eyes, wishfully thinking of the peaceful dreams he had just been torn from.
Bzzt.
You should really learn to punctuate, John. It will help you in your blog, your texting habits, and countless other areas of life. –SH
Come downstairs. –SH
John rolled his eyes. He texted back, purposely leaving out the punctuation.
why –JW
Now you're just being childish, John. Punctuation matters. –SH
why should I come downstairs? –JW
Please. –SH
Of course that would be an afterthought. Heaven forbid that Sherlock would be polite when making his original request.
WHY? –JW
I said 'please.' Isn't that supposed to be the 'magic word' or something of that sort? –SH
It's only magic when there's a SANE REASON behind the request. –JW
There's no need to type in all caps. I can hear your tone of voice perfectly fine. –SH
Do you have a SANE REASON? –JW
It's an emergency. –SH
Now John was caught in a dilemma. Sherlock could just be exaggerating, as usual, in order to get him to come downstairs. But, if John didn't go down, he knew this would be the one time there was a real emergency. Sighing (again), he rolled out of bed and stomped down the stairs, heading towards the sitting room.
"Well?" he asked, crossing his arms. The detective was lying on the couch, hands together under his chin.
"Ah, good. I want tea."
John's jaw dropped. "You want… tea?"
"Yes, I've just stated that fact. Weren't you listening?"
"You woke me up at," he checked his watch, "2:30 in the morning. Because. You wanted. Tea."
"Yes. Within the next couple of minutes would be ideal."
"Wha- no! I'm not your servant, Sherlock!"
"No, but you will make me tea."
"And why should I?"
"Because, as you're going to realize very soon, the time it will take you to fall back asleep is longer than the time it would take you to brew me a cup of tea. If you walk back upstairs right now, your time will have been completely wasted."
"You underestimate the speed at which I can fall back asleep."
"I really don't. I've seen you drop off while watching telly. I'm simply taking into account the fact that you're riled up after arguing with me, so it will take you longer than usual."
John just continued to glare at him.
"You know I'm right. Don't bother denying it. The more time you stand there fuming, the more statistically likely you are to make a cup of tea."
Wait for it…
In three, two, one…
"I hate you; I really do." The doctor stomped into the kitchen. Sherlock smiled as he heard the sounds of the kettle being put on. After several minutes, it started whistling, and his friend reentered the room, steaming teacup in hand.
The detective smirked. "I knew you would see reason eventually."
"Oh, this isn't for you." John smiled contentedly, sitting down in his favorite armchair. "This is for me. After I finish drinking this, I'm going right back up to my room and going back to sleep."
Sherlock looked at him in shock. "You didn't make me one?"
"Nope. And I'm not planning to, either. And, if you try to text me again, I will promptly turn my phone off. Actually, you know what? I'll do that right now." He took his phone out of his pocket and promptly shut off the power.
The detective's mouth was still hanging open. "But… I want tea."
"Somehow, I think you can put your brilliant mind to use by figuring out how to make a cuppa." When the look on his friend's face didn't change, he commented, "It's really not that hard. There's even still enough boiled water left in the kettle that you don't have to heat up any for yourself. All you have to do is walk into the kitchen, find yourself a teacup and a teabag, and pour in the water. I think you can handle it, Sherlock." With that, he took the last sip of his tea, and walked back into the kitchen to put the cup in the sink.
Sherlock was silent for a moment. "Please? John?"
John didn't answer.
"I'm… sorry… for waking you up. Will you… please… make me a cup of tea?"
His friend just walked back, setting a fresh cup of steaming tea on the coffee table. "Just. This. Once. If you ever wake me up at this time again, you don't want to know what I am going to do to you."
He smiled at his friend's retreating form. "Thank you. John."
The doctor turned back, a tired smile on his face. "You're welcome. But I mean it. Even Mycroft and all of his men won't be able to find the pieces."
"Duly noted." He sipped the warm drink, smiling, listening to his friend's footsteps going back up the stairs.
JWJWJW
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