Sherlock was lying on the sofa, squirming as if he had impregnated himself for an experiment again, just moaning and grimacing in pain.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"I have a bellyache. Don't you examine me!"
"Ok I won't"
"It's all your fault"
"How is it my fault that you ate an entire batch of peas in sauce?"
"It's your fault for making it so good"
"Well... I'm going out"
"Oh, so you're leaving me when I'm in pain? That's nice"
"Can I get you something from the chemist?"
Sherlock made a face of utter disgust. "John!"
"What?"
"Don't say the c-word! Why do you think I don't eat for days? It's so I won't ever have to discuss such icky things!"
"Sherlock, I'm a doctor. Nothing is too icky for me"
"Then how come you've never asked me to drop my pants?"
"And you're a consulting detective who looks through the cavities of dead bodies all the time for 'clues'"
"So what?"
"Well, you should have learned a very long time ago that when people die they void their bowels"
"Not if they've had your peas in sauce they won't"
John took his jacket from the hook, leaving.
"Wait" said Sherlock and sat up slowly. "Jim didn't void his bowels..."
"Heeere we go..." John said, sighing and didn't know why he was lingering. Perhaps it was because the longer Sherlock went without medicine the longer he'd be in physical pain.
"He must have had your peas in sauce..." Sherlock went on. "But why? Because he had something in his bowels, that he didn't want to void..."
"Jim died. That would have showed up at the autopsy"
"Yet, there are no records of an autopsy because Mycroft wanted to keep the body in his personal mansion morgue that he's refused to let me see. Bastard"
"So, do you want me to get some ginger ale?"
"I bet it was a phone, that would be so like him"
"Maybe he just timed his eating in such a way he'd have nothing to void. It's possible. He was so crazy he forgot to eat just like you. Jim's dead"
Sherlock's eyes widened and became glossy. His bottom lip trembled and he sprang from the sofa and ran to his room with tears gushing over his cheekbones.
John's phone rang and he took it from his pocket.
"Hey, Jim. No he's not in at the moment can I take a message? 'Did you miss me?' Ok, got it. Chinese sounds good, see you then"
John hung up, put on his coat and went to get that ginger ale.
