FF – Sherlock
Contradictions
Warnings : Poor humour
Characters : Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, mentions of others
Summary : Three times John spotted a contradiction in Sherlock's statements, and three times Sherlock decides John was a lot more perspicacious than most people gave him credit for.
A/N : The Webley-Fosberry is a rather old model in the series of British Revolvers. I expect the style of it was what Watson used in the canon series, despite the fact that Fosberry was after his time. So I took a bit of liberty on this. Fine. I just liked that model in particular.
John frowned in his book. His mind paused.
Some things made no sense.
"Sherlock?"
The blue lump on the sofa grunted in response. "Hmm?"
"Remember how you said that your 'hard drive' only consisted of things relevant to crime-solving?" John phrased his question carefully. "Which is why you refused to remember things such as the solar system, right?"
"What about it?"
John coughed. "Right, so, if you supposedly only stored-"
"I don't supposedly store crime related information, John, I store only them, and nothing else." Sherlock sounded mildly annoyed at being questioned, but John couldn't resist being curious.
"Alright, yes. I just don't see how the lyrics to 'Round and round', a nursery rhyme, would fit into it."
There was a stale pause and John smirked in triumph. Sherlock bolted upright and smiled at him, the quilt cover falling off his head.
"Are you thirsty? Would you like some tea?"
John grinned. "English breakfast, two sugars and no milk please."
"What's got you into another mood this time?" John scowled slightly as he pushed his bedroom door open. Three AM in the morning and Sherlock was still pulling away at his violin in absolute havoc without a care for the world.
"Oh, nothing. Just thinking." Sherlock said grumpily above the noise of incomprehensible notes.
John took a seat before him, stretching his pyjama-clad legs on the coffee table. "About the bank case? The yellow codes?"
"No." Sherlock paused. "Yes."
"Ah… I see." John tapped his fingers lightly on the armchair in thought. "Has it got to do with me referring to you as a colleague today?" Sherlock's playing came to an abrupt halt.
John watched as he visibly stiffened. "No."
He smirked knowingly, relaxing into the soft leather as he leaned back. "You did say friends were dull."
Sherlock glared at the newspaper on the coffee table as he started pulling the bow again in random sequences. He stopped, before glancing at John, lips twitching at the corners. "Breakfast tomorrow then, at Angelo's? They make excellent pancakes."
John chuckled and stood up to return to his room. "I'd be delighted."
"Are you trying to tell me something here?" John commented loudly as he removed the empty shells from the revolver, feeling its weight in his hands.
"No, not quite. Why?" Sherlock flicked at the bullet hole in the wall.
"This is a Webley-Fosbery Automatic." John said, shoving the shells into his pocket.
"And?"
"I counted six empty shells. This revolver holds only six rounds. You fired four when I was on my way up, and two when I tried to yell at you." He locked the gun in a drawer, despite knowing that Sherlock would find his way to it again. "I don't keep extra bullets in the house, and you wouldn't leave this place for anything."
Sherlock looked vaguely pleased when he turned around to face John. "And?"
"In other words, you only started shooting when I entered the house. You didn't shoot the wall out of boredom; you were trying to tell me that you were bored." John concluded. "I'm not entertaining you."
"But you already did." Sherlock beamed in delight as he dropped down on the sofa, legs crossed on the arm chair.
John rolled his eyes with a barely suppressed smirk. "And I'm not doing that again."