John is NOT the Little Red Hen
Once upon a time, Sherlock was in a stroppy mood. Actually, it wasn't once upon a time — it was quite a frequent occurrence. This particular stroppy mood, however, happened to coincide with John's decision to buy a new bed.
"Who will help me go to Ikea?" asked John.
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Ikea is full of idiots."
So John went to Ikea by himself. When he returned, he found Sherlock right where he'd left him, sulking on the sofa.
"Who will help me drag this box up the stairs?" asked John.
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Dragging boxes is a drag."
So John dragged the box up the stairs by himself. He opened it up and took out the instruction leaflet.
"Who will help me figure out these ridiculously complicated directions?" asked John.
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Those directions were written by language-impaired toddlers with no sense of spacial awareness."
So John figured out the ridiculously complicated directions by himself. He gathered the tools he would need, and laid out all of the parts in some semblance of order.
"Who will help me build this bed frame?" asked John.
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Building beds is boring."
So John built the bed frame by himself. He was proud of his accomplishment, but his work wasn't done.
"Who will help me go mattress shopping?" asked John.
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Mattress shops are full of morons."
So John went mattress shopping by himself. He tried each mattress, until he found one that was just right. Deciding that even he would be incapable of wrestling a king size mattress up two flights of stairs without help, he arranged to have it delivered.
Once the new mattress was in place, John asked, "Who will help me make up this bed with fresh linens?"
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Fresh bedding is for fools."
So John made up the bed himself. It looked quite inviting.
"Who will help me use this bed?" asked John.
"Not I," said Sherlock. "Sleeping is stupid."
"Who said anything about sleeping?" asked John.
Sherlock's stroppy mood suddenly evaporated, never to return. Well, at least not as frequently. And when it did make an unwelcome reappearance, John knew just the remedy.
So they lived — mostly happily — ever after.
The End
End Notes: "Who will read this without leaving a nice review?" I asked. (You know your line, right?) ;)
I'm marking this story complete, because I have to make myself stop adding chapters to this while I've got two other WIPs that I've been neglecting. Since each of these tales is a stand-alone, though, I may eventually write some more. :)
