A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.
Hope you enjoy.
Chapter: Bookface.
Rating: PG
Over the course of the next week, Sherlock found himself unearthing some not-so-concealed hints that John left behind. All of which were encouraging Sherlock to join the new era. Sherlock really had nothing against technology, he just didn't have any reason to have a Bookface, or an instant messaging service. He loved e-mail, and he loved texting; it was a lot for him to say he loved something, but he legitimately did love these parts of the millennium, and he would not trade them for anything less.
However, there were just some things he deemed unnecessary, and that was social networking. He'd had a Myspace, for a short time, but he'd offended someone at Uni and they'd hacked into it, and destroyed the whole thing. Oh, he got them back (there mother was very displeased to find the homoerotic images all over their Myspace the next morning) but he felt no need to return to social networking after that incident. He had no one with which to network socially, even though his entire consulting business was by word-of-mouth, it still got around in the right places, and that was all Sherlock cared about. He, actually, loved most modern advancements, but everything he'd read about Facebook was people knowing your business, and he didn't want just anyone knowing his business. Not to mention that it was his business to know everything about everyone, and he didn't need some stupid website for that.
John, however, was being so infuriating he was considering doing it just to make John stop! It wouldn't have been so bad had John been discrete, or at least tried to be. If he at least pretended that he wasn't trying to bully Sherlock into being social, then Sherlock could ignore it. He could feign ignorance. Easy. No problem. As it was, John was making it painfully obvious, and it was impossibly to ignore.
John left a note in the fridge: "Send me a Tweet if you need anything while I'm out"
John set Facebook as his homepage on his laptop, so when he left his computer sitting around, and Sherlock went to use it, he was confronted- multiple times a day- with the sign up instructions.
John had too-loud conversations with Sarah about poking her on Bookface, or Facebook, or whatever it was. John insisted on correcting him, casually, each time he used the wrong name.
John purposely ignored Sherlock, and laughed loudly at pictures his friends would post.
John joked with Mrs. Hudson about her banner on Bookface. Sherlock didn't even know what that meant either, and it made him mad.
John had his volume all the way up, so Sherlock heard the ping when John got a new instant message. It grated on his nerves.
John talked about the latest Bookface drama with Lestrade at crime scenes, while Sherlock was looking at the corpse. He had wanted to throw a tantrum.
John talked to Anderson about a supposedly-hilarious video on youtube.
Sherlock seethed.
John talked to Mycroft about the latest updates to Yahoo messenger.
Sherlock was livid.
After nearly eight weeks of this foolish run-around, Sherlock hit a breaking point. When Sherlock was lounging on the couch, and John was sitting too close, laptop on his knee's 'skyping' with Sarah and chatting about what to name their couples-album on Facebook (There! See, John, see? He knew the proper bloody name, so drop it!) Sherlock realized he could not win. This was a very crippling feeling for Sherlock, he was unaccustomed to losing ("Like Charlie Sheen," John had once joked and then pointed out Sherlock would get the reference if only he was on Facebook.) Thus, the feeling came out as rage, he threw his arms into the air and positively screamed:
"ALRIGHT! I'LL MAKE A BOOKFACE!"
"Facebook." John replied smugly, as if he'd expected the outburst.
Sherlock just glared, and threw himself back onto the couch. He covered himself in his dressing gown and pouted gloriously for the rest of the evening.