"It's a foot."
"Yes."
John stared in a mixture of disgust, confusion and bafflement at the limb Sherlock held, a small, expectant smile on his face and those damned puppy dog eyes he knew worked on Molly. In his hands, a severed foot, a severed foot, was in what looked like a shoebox. It was clearly an adult man's foot, that much was obvious by the size and amount of hair on the toes. Even more peculiar, were the toes themselves. Some were shriveled and black, and there were only...yep. Four toes. Where it had been chopped off wasn't entirely revolting, as the wound had been cauterised, but still-
"It's a foot," he repeated.
"John, you know I loathe repetition."
"Why is it a foot?"
"Surely you being a doctor would provide you with more than ample knowledge of the human bo-"
"Why the bloody hell do you have a foot?"
"It's for you." Sherlock replied, having the nerve to look slightly hurt.
"Yeah, that's great. It's a foot," John said.
"Isn't it standard protocol to give your significant other gifts when in a relationship?" Sherlock asked. "I read it on the internet."
"So you thought a severed limb would be something I would enjoy?" John couldn't help but compare Sherlock with the image of a cat bringing in a mangled bird to its owner, as if to say, aren't you so proud of me? This is for you. You are welcome.
Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly. "It's technically for us. This man died of a rather severe case of gangrene, and I thought it would be fun to run a-"
"A few experiments?" John laughed incredulously.
"Well...yes." Sherlock shuffled his feet and looked down, an action that was incredibly uncharacteristic of him.
John couldn't help but soften at the sight of that. "Okay, sure," he found himself saying. "Thank you, Sherlock. It's very thoughtful."
Sherlock practically beamed, and kissed John quickly on the cheek, bounding over to his desk and John followed, shaking his head affectionately.
