I obviously don't own Sherlock. DANGIT MOFFAT.
Pre-Reichenbach, because that is too feelsy. I cannot even with Reichenbach.
Not intentionally Johnlock, but you can take it however you want. Enjoy, my fellow Sherlockians!
Written for hiddenheart4020 :) HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
"There must be something in the soil traces on the victim's coat. John, get me the hydrogen peroxide and the manganese oxide."
Silence.
"John! John what are you doing?!"
Groggy footsteps.
"Sherlock, what in the name of - it's 3 o'clock in the morning! What are YOU doing?"
Sherlock was bent over the kitchen table, mixing solutions of heaven knows what in multiple glass jars, immersed in his work. He had been working on the case for a few days now, but to him, it lasted centuries. There had to be something missing from the equation.
"Why is the teapot half melted? What did you do to the sink? What is all this…never mind, I don't want to know." John surveyed the damage to the cluttered table and countertops. It was hopeless; the kitchen would never return to whatever meager state of glory it had known before the two had moved in to 221B Baker Street. He didn't even want to peek in the refrigerator.
"I hardly think those are questions that anyone with any sort of reasonable brain would ask. The question is, what caused the soil to disintegrate and…" Sherlock paused. "Of course! It must have been the luminol solution that…" He continued on into an intelligible ramble that John didn't have the patience to even try to understand.
"Sherlock. You haven't slept in two days. You haven't eaten in three. I swear I will force food down your throat. Again."
"And you haven't responded to your sister's texts. Or done your laundry in over two weeks."
"Oh? And could you tell by the wrinkle patterns in my shirt? The miniscule stain from what I ate last Monday?"
"No, Mrs. Husdon told me. She's doing it tomorrow if you don't," Sherlock replied.
John had been on edge all week. He was in no mood to be smart-talked by Sherlock at the moment. Muttering angrily to himself, he walked back into his room to get a bit of sleep.
The next morning, the kitchen was worse than before and John decided it would be best if he took some time to walk in the cold London weather for a few hours to clear his mind a bit. He lost his job at the clinic because he was constantly caught sleeping in his office or showing up late. And a few other reasons. All of which were because of Sherlock and his crazy habits. He'd look through the paper again tonight. No, tomorrow. He was too tired today, too exhausted. He'd take a break from everything for a bit. Maybe try to get a date. His latest girlfriend said she didn't want to date a guy who all her friends said was gay. Which he constantly denied. So maybe he'd hold off on dating for a while.
John wasn't ready to face whatever horrible state the kitchen was in, but decided to go home anyways. When he got into the apartment, he smelled something burning. His immediate thought was, "That's just wonderful, Sherlock has burned down the kitchen" which then turned into "Sherlock is in trouble." John frantically ran into the kitchen.
Through smoke, John saw Sherlock's tall outline, trying to open a window above the sink. John ran to the oven to close it, in case something was on fire inside. The two attempted to fan out the smoke, and through coughing and a bit of yelling, succeeded.
"Sherlock, you could have burned this place to the ground, what were you thinking?"
" I…I made brownies."
"…what?"
"You heard me, I don't want to say it again."
John took a better look at the kitchen. In the place of microscopes and test vials were measuring cups and various ingredients, strewn across every available surface. Sherlock was covered in flour and melted chocolate.
"Don't make some sappy remark. I only did it because…because I didn't want you to be so annoyingly moody and sullen all the time. It makes you less able to run errands for me," Sherlock said.
John didn't care about the mess anymore. He didn't care that he lost his job and girlfriend. He was just grateful that he had Sherlock. That even through his sociopathic ways, Sherlock could show that he cared about John. He was grateful for a friend.
"Alright. I won't. But let's eat these brownies, don't want them to get cold."
Though he'd never had worse brownies in his life, John smiled.
So did Sherlock.
I hope you enjoyed it, favorite and review if you'd like - I would greatly appreciate it!
And no, they aren't "funny brownies", silly goose.
DFTBA.