John checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes and paced around the living room.
"It's been three hours now Sherlock"
Sherlock continued reading his book, ignoring John.
"I don't feel any different," he complained, "I thought it would have at least some kind of effect."
Another two laps of the living room and another glance at his watch, then a sigh as John sat down heavily in his chair, tapping his foot on the floor restlessly. Sherlock waited a moment then counted under his breath "5…4…3…2…"
John burst from his seat in frustration and stood in front of Sherlock. "Sherlock! Stop ignoring me!"
Sherlock finally condescended to glance up at John and raised one eyebrow in query.
"Is it working or not?" John asked abruptly. "You said it would peak at 5 hours… surely I should be feeling something by now? I don't want to hang around the flat all day if it isn't going to have any effect."
Sherlock was in two minds. On one hand he thought John had agreed to this so should just get on with it, but on the other hand he too was curious as to whether there had been an effect yet, even if it wasn't obvious. He decided that a couple of tests would be helpful to appease his own curiosity, and would also satisfy John.
"Go get your medical bag, John," Sherlock requested, "We've been looking for an emotive response - perhaps we will see a physiological one first. We'll do some tests and see if there is a measurable impact yet."
John positively raced up the stairs, eager to finally be doing something. Sherlock headed to the kitchen to where his laptop sat on the table and made some notes around John's apparent mood swings. It might not be to do with the formula (Sherlock admitted that frustration was quite often seen by John when Sherlock experimented, particularly when he was the test subject), but worth noting in case it was exacerbated by further formulations.
"We'll just do some simple tests" he explained to John on his return, "I'll record your pulse rate, blood pressure, pupil dilation and reaction time. This should cover any physical impairments relating to the chemicals of infatuation when released by the brain."
"That makes sense," John agreed.
In fact Sherlock was privately chastising himself for not having thought to collect data earlier. "We'll do this every two hours from now on, John," he explained, "that way we can track any imperceptible changes you might not notice yourself."
John willingly sat and rolled up his shirt sleeve for the sphygmomanometer cuff, and held still for Sherlock to check pupil dilation. Sherlock recorded them all in his spreadsheet. Unfortunately they didn't have baseline figures to compare against but could at least track changes from here through this phase of the experiment.
When they were done John buttoned his shirt-sleeve again and looked down at Sherlock's laptop. He sighed as he stood back up. "Hmmm… well my pulse rate is about normal, as is my blood pressure. No obvious effect yet then. Guess I'll make another cup of tea. Want one?"
Sherlock hummed in agreement, his mind already racing through calculations of what he would change for his second attempt.
oOo
It wasn't until 7pm and they were sitting in Angelo's eating pasta that Sherlock noticed a difference in John. If he didn't know better he would have thought the man was drunk - his voice was raised, he laughed loudly and readily, and his demeanour was unusually open and relaxed. However in the name of science and not skewing results by adding new variables, John had been drinking water only with his dinner - no alcohol involved. It must be the formula, Sherlock mused. He narrowed his eyes and observed without commenting, wondering how long it would be until John noticed himself.
Sherlock was privately amused that it took John until they were sharing a portion of tiramisu (in other words Sherlock was eating John's tiramisu) to realise that there was something happening.
John had a spoon of dessert midway to his mouth when he paused, frowned, and put the spoon back down.
"It's working, isn't it?" He asked Sherlock, who nodded in response.
"Sherlock!" John chastised, "You could have told me!"
"There was no need. You aren't doing anything out of the ordinary - you are merely acting as you normally do in here when you drink most of a bottle of wine."
"But still…" John moaned, annoyed now, "I wish you'd said something. It is beyond frustrating when you do things like this to me. We weren't supposed to be leaving the flat but you promised you'd tell me as soon as you detected a change if I didn't notice myself first."
Sherlock merely waved a hand in dismissal and stole another spoonful of the italian trifle. "You are fine, John. I wouldn't allow you to embarrass yourself here - I like Angelo's and wish to be able to return."
oOo
"I'm really not happy with you," John told Sherlock as they walked home from the restaurant.
Sherlock merely hummed in response, his mind only half on John. He was actually cataloguing in his mind all the effects he had noticed in John and their emotive strength so he could commit them to his notes when they got back.
"I wish you'd listen to me," John grumbled at his side, "you say you'll follow the rules but then you just do what you want, no matter the cost to others…"
Sherlock blocked him out completely, satisfied there was nothing new to be learned from listening to John moan about trivial things like 'following rules'. He continued walking briskly - it was cold and slightly drizzly and Sherlock really wanted to get back.
It wasn't until Sherlock went to cross the road and looked to his side that he realised John was no longer with him. Frowning, he scanned the street behind him, suddenly anxious. He'd promised not to leave John unattended while drugged; this would definitely fit into the category of behaviour classed as a bit not good.
No sign of John anywhere.
Sherlock spun around and walked briskly back towards Angelo's, looking into each alleyway and dark corner as he went, searching for his missing friend. He frantically rewound the conversation - how long was it since John had spoken to him? Not that many minutes… so where was he?
He turned a corner and to his relief caught a glimpse of familiar sandy blond hair on a man staring into a shop window. Hurrying over he called out "John!" but got no response. It wasn't until he stood next to his friend and touched his shoulder that John even seemed to be aware of Sherlock's presence.
"Oh! Sherlock! Come look," John exclaimed, catching Sherlock's hand in his apparent excitement and steering him to face the shop. He let go of Sherlock's hand to press his own up against the window, a rapt expression on his face as he gazed in.
Sherlock paused, confused, and looked into the shop window to see what had caught John's attention so markedly. It was a department store with a window display of various small electrical items. Sherlock failed to see what was so fascinating.
"What are you doing John? I thought you wanted to get home?"
"Have you ever seen something so lovely?"
Now Sherlock was getting worried. John's voice had the same tone to it as he did when he'd got back from a successful second date with a new girl. He sounded infatuated. Sherlock spoke cautiously, as though to a small child, "What is it John? What is so lovely?"
"The red kettle of course! It's so red. And shiny. And red. Did I mention red? I really do love kettles, they make excellent tea. You can't make a good cup of tea without a good kettle. Have you tried? Boiled water in all sorts of things when I was in the army, but it never tastes the same…used to always have weird metallic aftertaste from the pots…Not like red kettles…"
Sherlock was beyond bemused, but starting to recognise the symptoms for what they really were. Apparently this version of the formula managed to make John;
- Have some level of enhanced mood swings, given the lack of provocation
- Act in a manner comparable to consuming the majority of a bottle of red wine - a bit loud, a bit giggly and more outgoing than usual
- Fall in love with miscellaneous electrical goods.
- Or more specifically - a red kettle
- To be exact - a red kettle because it looked like 'it would make a really excellent cup of tea'
Sherlock eventually managed to pry John away from the window display with the promise of coming back the next day when the shop was open, and with the incentive of a cup of tea, albeit using their 'stupid normal boring kettle', once they got home.
The formula had considerably loosened his tongue. John continued to wax lyrical about the wonders of the kettle all the way home, through Sherlock's last round of tests on his blood pressure and pulse rate, and through the consumption of the promised mug of tea.
By the end of it Sherlock was tied between finding the whole thing completely hilarious and most exasperating. He was amused at how vocal John was being but also really wanted silence so he could process the results and make a plan for the next formula. To his relief after an hour John suddenly went quiet. Sherlock looked up from the laptop to see John staring into space, and with a little encouragement and cajoling from Sherlock he agreed to go to bed, leaving Sherlock in the wonderfully silent living room able to finally process and order his thoughts.
"That was interesting," he murmured to himself as he settled with the laptop to write up his notes.
oOo
John came down the stairs the next morning to find Sherlock snoozing on the sofa, still wearing the previous day's clothes. He stumbled into the kitchen, tightening the belt on his dressing gown as he automatically reached blearily for the kettle and a much needed cup of tea.
To his surprise the kettle was missing from its home on the work surface. Looking around properly for the first time John registered a cardboard box on the dining table with a note propped against it.
Curious, he opened the box to discover inside a shiny new red kettle. The red kettle. John instantly flushed in chagrin as memories of his obsession with it in the shop window the previous night flooded back to him. Wincing internally in anticipation at the mockery he was due, he picked up the note. To John's surprise he smiled as he read the contents. In Sherlock's scrawled handwriting it simply said,
John -
Because even though it was chemically induced, anything you like this much has to be worth owning.
Milk and sugar in mine please.
S
Summary of S. Holmes experiment notes - use of chemical stimulation to promote an indiscriminate strong attraction and personal attachment ('Love') in test subject for a controlled period of time.
Week 1: compound 2013107 #01
Subject: John H. Watson MD
Notes: The experiment went as predicted with test subject showing noticeable reactions to the formula #01, although would not define the responses as concurrent with those of the original subject. Increased psychological responses were observed along with slight changes to physical markers most likely to respond to feelings of love or lust. Heart rate increased when subject was presented with an object of desire (in this case an electrical appliance), although expected pupil dilation was not significant.
Outcomes: Strong liking for an inanimate object. No 'love' observed.
Conclusion: Further testing required with revised formulation (maybe increase norepinephrine levels?) and intensity.
A/N -
Sphygmomanometer - blood pressure meter. It is such an awesome word I couldn't resist using it!
Reviews, con crit and other feedback always welcome x