2
"So..."
The silence was bothering John. If he had something to work on, he could have handled this a lot better. But, giving him a stuck lift and Sherlock Holmes and nothing else to do, well, he got a bit anxious.
"Perhaps an hour."
"Hm?"
"I know you're wondering how long we're going to stuck here. However, you're not asking, probably because you don't want to sound like you really care, so I simply answered the question in advance."
"Oh. Great," John replied dully. Sherlock had it down, as usual, to a tee. He didn't want to ask because he didn't want to shine light on the slowly-growing bit of panic. Sherlock was calm- he didn't seem to be so much as phased by the whole thing. John could act calm, too.
... He just forgot that his best friend was Sherlock Holmes, the man who noticed everything.
"Panicking will only make the situation worse," Sherlock said.
"I'm not panicking," John replied.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Because I know different."
"Well, you're wrong."
"I'm never wrong."
"Don't," John started tartly, before stopping. He took a near-silent breath before continuing. "Don't make me have this conversation again. It never ends well with you."
"Admit that you're panicking."
"I'm not panicking!"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him as his voice raised. John dropped his head back against the wall, sighing heavily. His fingers worked over the top button of his shirt, undoing it. He was irritable.
Sherlock wasn't right- he wasn't panicking. He was just... a bit anxious.
"You're worried," Sherlock stated slowly. "You're restless; you're hardly sitting still for longer than a minute, which, if your mind was on something else, you could manage it easily. Then there's also the nervous habits: biting your lip, tapping your fingers against your leg, which I can still hear, by the way."
John frowned and curled his fingers into his palms, ceasing his unconscious tapping.
"You're irritable, as proven by the fact that you were almost just yelling at me. That could be a product of the heat, no doubt, as well as the sweating, but both are signs of anxiety. Your body's tense; you're holding yourself in the military stance that usually designates a crisis. You're not claustrophobic; you've never had a problem with small spaces before, and it's highly unlikely that you've just formed a fear of lifts or heights, so, the conclusion, obviously, is that you're anxious, and thus, slightly panicking."
John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. Sherlock was right about all of that; of course he was. However, as he had told Sherlock time and time again...
He hated being deduced.
Movement to his right made him open his eyes again and look towards Sherlock.
The detective had shrugged off his Belstaff coat and had sank to the floor, leaning back against the wall. As John watched, Sherlock fumbled with his phone.
"It's been a half hour," Sherlock said.
John replied with the first thing on his mind. "Feels like longer."
"This really bothers you?"
"S-Seriously? Why wouldn't it?"
"It could always be worse."
"How could it be worse, Sherlock?"
"Could be underground. In a crypt."
John frowned, resisting the urge to shiver even though he was sweating. "Has that happened to you?"
A brief smirk passed Sherlock's otherwise passive expression. "Once, actually. Lestrade and the Yard took awhile to find me. The bodies made for entertainment, though."
"Oh, you would find it funny to be locked in a crypt."
"Well, not funny; it was rather irritating. I could have caught my criminal by that point and been back at Montague for that matter. But, when faced with the unchangeable..."
"When life gives you lemons," John muttered.
"What?"
"When... When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade?"
"Oh. I don't like lemonade."
John looked at him harshly. "It's... It's metaphorical, you know. There's actually no lemonade involved. Or lemons."
"Isn't there?" Sherlock's voice was distant; his eyes were locked on his mobile's screen. It was clear that he wasn't really listening to John now, probably having lost interest.
John sighed heavily, sliding a bit down the wall. "You know..."
"Probably."
"That dehydration can occur without hours," John continued, ignoring Sherlock's interruption.
"Yes."
"In warm temperatures."
"Yes."
"You can still get dehydrated even if you're drinking water."
"You have to drink enough to make up for the lost water, yes, I know. Not drinking enough water in hot temperatures can result in quick dehydration, especially when one factors in excessive sweating- oh." Sherlock looked up. "I see what you're getting at. We could end up in a mildly unpleasant situation."
"We're already in a mildly unpleasant situation. It could get a lot worse... quite quickly, is all I'm saying."
"Interesting." Sherlock paused, looking back at his phone as he thumbed to one screen or another for a moment. He then looked back to John. "It's been a half hour. Temperature in the lift is anywhere from ninety to one-hundred. John's concerned about probable dehydration. He is also suffering from anxiety."
John frowned. "Who are you talking to?"
"Documenting our experience."
"What?"
"It's an experiment."
John looked from Sherlock to Sherlock's phone, recognition falling into place soon thereafter. "Sherlock, turn your recorder off!"
"I'm documenting-"
John reached over and swiped the mobile from Sherlock's phone, cutting off the audio recorder. "We're not making this into an experiment."
"It's an experiment whether you want it to be or not," Sherlock said after a moment, taking back his phone.
That was when John noticed the one bar of signal on Sherlock's phone. "Wait wait wait!" Sherlock's fingers froze on the phone. "Signal! There's a signal! What's your speed dial for Lestrade?"
"Two."
Without moving the phone, John and Sherlock both holding it, John hit Lestrade's speed dial and turned on speakerphone.
"'lo?"
"Greg, we need your help."
Lestrade paused for a moment before his police procedure kicked in. "Where are you?"
"The warehouse that you sent us. Listen, the lift's broken down."
"You're stuck in the lift?"
"Yeah, I can't believe it, either. Sherlock thinks that-"
"We're stuck between floor fourteen and floor fifteen. We've been in here a half hour," Sherlock said, cutting in. "Anytime that you could get some of your force here would be wonderful, but the quicker, the better."
John glanced sideways at Sherlock as Lestrade repeated the address to someone on the other end, explaining in clipped sentences what was happening.
"I don't want to be stuck with you if you happen to have an anxiety attack," Sherlock said in return to John's glance.
John knew that Sherlock could be an arrogant prat, but there was something in that statement that made John feel a mixture of anger and... betrayal...? Well, that didn't make any sense, except that... well, Sherlock was his friend, and would it kill him to not be such an annoying sod for five seconds...
"We're sending someone out there right now-"
Lestrade's voice cut out. "- outage, so there's- might take-"
"Wait, hang on, I can't hear you," John said quickly.
"- reception. Help's on the-"
"Greg? Greg!"
But only a dead dial-tone echoed in the confines of the lift. For a moment there, John had been able to forget that, really, they were stuck in a stupid lift!, and he had had someone else to talk to, an outside source that could get them help, let them know what was happening around them. But now...
"I'll take that back now, thanks," Sherlock said, pulling his phone out of John's grasp and going back to immersing himself in whatever the hell was so important on it.
John almost glared at him, but it wasn't worth it. Sherlock wouldn't understand it, anyway. Sherlock didn't understand... human emotion.
He slumped back against the wall again, closing his eyes tightly. This was a nightmare... and it was only just beginning.
Getting stuck in a lift with the most disagreeable man in all of London? Come on, there's going to be some angst. There's going to be some fighting, and there's going to be moments where they're sick of each other [or John is sick of Sherlock, at least]. But... where there's angst, there can also be positive bonding. Heh...
By the bye, I like this stuck-in-an-elevator idea. xD I ended up writing a Cabin Pressure fic to it. I'm so mean to my favourite fandoms' characters. xD
Your feedback was great for Chapter One, and I hope it continues! Thanks so much!
