John recalls a case in which a poor serial killer was chased by a manic Sherlock and how his Tesco shopping bag became the hero that saved the day.
Sherlock worked on the case for a full week. There were a series of murders across London and every corpse was found with a bloody hatchet and an empty Diet Coke can - signs suggesting that a serial killer is in town and that Sherlock is very, very, interested.
Very, very, interested.
When questioned about the interesting points of a mundane B-rated movie murder weapon and a soft drink can, Sherlock who was pacing ( skipping) from the kitchen to his computer merely explained that Mycroft loves Coca Cola but hates the guts of its alternate diet version. John didn't really understand but didn't press for further details.
Sherlock had spent the following days and nights sorting through investigation files, screaming for tea, and thinking. John had gotten used to the sight of a hundred coke cans lying around in their flat ( Mycroft once sent men in black suits, complete with dark sunglasses and headsets, to stack them into neat, orderly piles - one bloke even made an impressive replica of the Big Ben - John thinks Mycroft couldn't stand the horrific sight of scattered Diet Coke cans through the CCTV camera). There were times when John thought his flat mate had gone completely nuts; Sherlock would occasionally bursts into fits of laughter when he is on his laptop. Again when questioned, he either replied :" " or " Diet Coca Cola", John couldn't tell which answer was more worrying.
The week Sherlock spent trying to solve the case was mildly depressing to John. He would wake up everyday to find more empty Coca Cola cans in the living room, which is hardly sanitary, as the stench of more than two hundred soda cans began to attract the complains of . John knew it was highly unlikely that she will kick them out because of that, but still, you have to listen to your landlady. Sherlock would not listen to his pleas for the use of a bin, and would always give one-word answers to any question John asked that week.
To be truthful, he was getting kind of lonely.
" Dear, you know Sherlock is always like this." had reassured him over a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, " I'm sure he'll come around soon. That's marriage for you." The second sentence was said under her breath.
Then came the 7th day after the case was given to Sherlock, he solved it, of course, but it had been surprisingly tough for the consulting detective . Of course Sherlock would not admit that, but he did say "Clever. Clever!". Which is basically the same thing. Although Sherlock managed to identify the killer, Mr. Howard Hastings, there was the question of how to catch him, seeing that his real identity was presumed to be dead but Sherlock claimed the man is working on building a trade company complete with a rivaling beverage brand.
"The key to identifying the killer, John, was the secret ingredients Hastings cleverly placed in the drinks while he was working at his old company." Sherlock had said while putting on his cloak, preparing to go out.
John asked why it was that important.
"Because, John, they're not just any ordinary special ingredients, they are codes!" Sherlock said with his head peeking through the door of the flat.
Seeing that Sherlock was very near to completing the case, John reminded himself to go buy the ingredients for making pasta. Sherlock must eat anyway,
So on that particular Thursday evening, John was walking home from shopping at Tesco's when suddenly this poor lad in a blue suit was running towards him with one manic-looking Sherlock at his heels. John stopped dead in his tracks, but the two ran past him without stopping, Sherlock said a "Hello, John!" before snatching his plastic bag, emptying the eggs and milk cartons on to the pavement and winning an indecent "Hey!" from John.
The lad was fast, but not fast enough for Mr. Sherlock-the-world's-only-bigot-consulting-detective-Holmes. Very soon Sherlock closed the distance between them with his long legs, and just as John though he'll tackle the man, Sherlock quickly pulled the Tesco bag over the killer's head. Both of them crashed into the London sidewalk in a flurry of flying arms and legs. Struggle, however, was futile, and after a few moments Sherlock's head turned back to give John a victorious grin with twinkling eyes.
Until this day, John never understood why the Tesco bag and his eggs should have suffered.
John jogged towards the two men with the surviving groceries in hand as the Scotland Yard arrives. Sherlock was looking absolutely pleased with himself; with his head held high, chest puffed out, a smug grin - John almost expected to see a cat's tail standing upright from Sherlock's bum.
" This case, John, this case, was absolutely fantastic!" With one knee on the killer, Sherlock exclaimed, his arms spread wide open like he was yelling to God.
"Coke cans, BRILLIANT. Thank you, Mr. Hastings, Thank you for this brilliant case!" He bent down to kiss the Tesco plastic bag head of the man with a loud 'Mmwa!'. At that, Lestrade rolled his eyes and the Yard took control and separated the mad detective from the poor killer.
John wanted to lecture Sherlock about the mental value of groceries , the importance of not wasting resources, and how are they going to have their bloody dinner now that there ingredients are gone.
But just then Sherlock approached him with his messy curls, a wide smile on his face, and a mad twinkle in his eyes. For the first time in that week, Sherlock seems to notice John properly, and John is once again reminded on the fact that Sherlock seems to know all the little gears in John's head and what he is thinking. That made John Watson, temporal bachelor, remember another fact he learned while living with the world's only consulting detective.
" Take-outs tonight, John?"
" Chinese?"
" Thought you'd never ask."
And they left the crime scene, giggling.