The answer was a light switch. Other answer include: the sun, a sunflower, a loved one's mouth (proven by Mycroft R Holmes' evidence), and a blindfold.
Our very first winners of this compilation are:
Silver Fox Animagus
Imbecamiel
Lurker
Mycroft R Holmes
Samantha
Congratulations! Only five, yes, but a great start so far. This compilation is still new and more people will find it and its riddles in time. Until then, I am very happy you all enjoyed the fic and took the time to give an answer. And I am extremely pleased to see a familiar name.
So, I had originally planned to post a different fic today but after all the rain today, I figured this one was better suited.
oOoOo
Bloody Wet Clothes
John Watson heard the door open and then slam shut. He heard the typical complaint that served as Mrs. Hudson's greeting which went ignored. He heard the soft thud of footsteps trekking unhurried up the stairs.
And then he saw Sherlock Holmes.
"Jesus, Sherlock."
The detective was thoroughly and completely soaked. His dark coat hung heavy with water and the blue scarf that had fit smugly 'round the throat had become sinewy and taut. Dark hair had lost its curl and now lay plastered flat against the forehead and neck.
Sherlock blinked trailing droplets away from his eyes and the water trickled instead down cheeks tinged red from the cold.
"John," Sherlock sniffed, perhaps to achieve a grandiose greeting but more likely to quell a running nose.
With barely a glance at the doctor, Sherlock sauntered over to his table of vials and papers, wet stains blossoming in the carpet where his feet touched. He delicately plucked one test tube out from its spot under an ultraviolet lamp. He lifted the tube up towards the light and peered at it intently.
John was standing now, his process of updating his blog forgotten. "What happened?"
"It rained," Sherlock answered boredly, pushing one hand through his dripping hair, sleeking it back to keep it out of his eyes. He replaced the test tube and lifted another than had been simmering under a typical 60W tungsten light.
"I know that," John amended, slightly offended. It was a hard fact to forget after all. It had been raining for three days straight. If it continued too much longer, John feared he would start seeing animals walking in pairs down Baker Street.
"I mean, why are you so wet? Where's your umbrella?"
"Over there," Sherlock answered, flicking a finger to a spot at the corner of the room without taking his eyes off the viscous contents in the test tube.
John followed his finger to find a black umbrella resting lightly in the corner, dry.
As John puzzled over the placement of the umbrella, Sherlock returned the test tube to its original position and moved to his chair. He sat down with a muffled squelch.
John's attention instantly swiveled back to him. "No. Don't sit down," he exclaimed.
Sherlock shot him a look; one brow arched questioningly.
"You're wet," John insisted, indicating Sherlock's soaking figure.
"Perfectly sound analysis, John," Sherlock said, bringing his steepled fingers to rest at his chin.
"You'll ruin the chair," John protested.
Sherlock made no sign that he had heard him.
"At least go change into dry clothes before you get sick."
Still no response. Sherlock's eyes were closed in thought.
"Sherlock," John pleaded.
"No time," he murmured, albeit a bit tersely.
"What?"
"I'm thinking, John," Sherlock snapped, fixing a hard glare on the doctor, "I don't have time for your useless and unwanted advice and I am rather busy determining the photochromic effects of Mrs. Burberry's lipstick so I'd be most appreciative if you would… Stop. Talking." With that said, he returned to his thoughts.
John, undeterred, pursed his lips and folded his arms haughtily over his chest. He moved to stand in front of Sherlock, his form rather menacing despite his inferior size.
"Fine, then I'll do it," he said stubbornly.
"Do what?" Sherlock sighed.
"Get you out of those bloody wet clothes."
Sherlock's eyes opened slowly and his gaze rose to fixate on John's. He seemed to take a moment to consider John's threat. Then he's eyes closed once more and he casually leaned back in his chair, completely unconcerned.
"Fine," he said, catching John off guard. "Just don't talk. You'll disturb me."
John opened his mouth to fire off a retort but snapped it shut with a huff. There was no point in arguing with Sherlock Holmes while the detective was in one of his moods.
Instead, John spun on his heel and turned his attention to the fire that had kept him warm throughout the morning. The flames had receded, the wood black and crumbling. So, John added more wood to the fire, reviving the joyous flames that eagerly accepted the fuel. The fire popped and crackled merrily, shedding more light and heat into the room.
John travelled with the rolling waves of heat back to Sherlock. The detective hadn't moved.
John targeted the sopping coat first. He pushed down Sherlock's hands and slid the top of the coat off Sherlock's shoulders, pulling it down roughly to get it out from between Sherlock's back and the back of the chair. Then he had to maneuver Sherlock's arms through the sleeves. The heavy cloth had little flexibility and clung to the jacket underneath, making the task infuriatingly more difficult than it needed to be. But Sherlock's arms complied to John's orders easily enough and soon both arms were free. Lastly, John callously jerked the bottom of the coat out from under Sherlock.
His task complete, John threw the crumbled cloth near the fireplace.
Next, the scarf was hastily unfurled and joined the coat.
John easily slipped Sherlock's jacket off, leaving the pale white undershirt. It seemed that the coat and jacket had taken the brute of the watery onslaught from the rain. The shirt was generally unharmed with only a few damp patches that would heal easily in the fire's heat.
This and the trousers were left on. John wasn't a servant after all.
With the mass of wet clothes forming a puddle at the base of the fireplace, and with Sherlock in just about the same position he had started in, John left the room to return with a towel and a thick blanket.
The blanket was momentarily placed on John's chair and the towel was thrown over Sherlock's head. Still a bit sore from Sherlock's uncouth remark, John rubbed the water out of Sherlock's hair with perhaps a little more force than was really necessary. After a minute or so of drying, the towel was pulled away to reveal a dry face and a shocking mess of tangled black hair.
The towel quickly joined the other wet clothes.
John then unfolded the blanket and draped it over Sherlock's shoulders carefully, as if in apology for his previous rough treatment of the detective. The blanket was tucked tight around Sherlock until only his head and joined hands were visible.
John left again and it was a while longer before he came back with a steaming cup of coffee. This was squeezed between Sherlock's icy fingers.
"Two sugars," John announced, the edge smoothed out of his words.
Finished, John stepped back to admire his work. Sherlock was sufficiently bundled and dry. He nodded with satisfaction.
Refilling his own cup with the hot drink, minus the sugar, John returned to his computer, typing away in time with the beat of the rain pattering against the windows.
When his changes had been saved, John closed his laptop and looked up at Sherlock.
The detective was staring into the fire, both hands clasped around his coffee cup as he sipped it. The cold seemed to have visibly thawed out of the tall man's body and the minute shaking of his shoulders that he had likely hoped John had overlooked, had stopped.
John smiled.
"Better?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. Well, he did expect a glare and a complaint that he had disturbed Sherlock's thoughts.
To his surprise, Sherlock returned his smile. "Much."
OoOoO
I'm not entirely thrilled with the ending but it will do. I hope you liked it and, if you are getting all this rain too, I hope you are staying warm and dry. Don't get sick!
So, this week's riddle will be another easy one in case some new readers want to take a stab at it. It also had a variety of possible answers so don't be afraid to get creative with your answer. Good luck.
**I have eyes yet cannot see. What am I?**
Thank you as always for reading and your comments are most appreciated.
Hobey-Ho