John was in a particularly pleasant mood.
For once Sherlock hadn't found some bizarre way to interrupt John's sleep, allowing him to get a full eight hours. He woke up feeling refreshed and had more energy than he had in weeks. It was a sunny and warm Saturday morning. Walking over to the sitting room window, he could see Molly in the front playing with little Audrey while Mrs. Hudson worked on her small garden of tulips. People were bustling up and down the street, many of them stopping in to the sandwich shop next door. He looked at the building across from him and noticed Jim standing behind his window, glaring daggers at him. He stifled a laugh with his hand, giving a short wave with his other before turning his back. 'Guess he's still pissed.'
Aside from his homework and books strewn carelessly on the floor around his desk from the previous night's study session, the room was satisfactory. Instead, he busied himself with the dishes, singing softly along the way. "There is no one like you. And in a world of black and white, you are the only one in color"
"Someone's in a good mood." Irene was leaning against the archway to the kitchen, smiling delicately at him.
"Sherlock's been gracious enough to let me sleep in." He rolled his eyes and grinned.
"That's unusual." She said moving toward him and sliding onto the counter. John raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
"I need a favor." She looked at her unnaturally sharp nails.
"Isn't Sherlock the one you kind of go to for favors? I mean he's probably more capable. Don't tell him I said that." He wiped his hands on the towel hanging from the oven handle.
Her lips twitched, "In this case, no." She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "I need to you watch Madame Meow for a few days."
John blinked at her. He scratched his head, "Who?"
"My cat, John." She rolled her eyes as if it were as obvious as the nose on his face.
"You have a cat?" His lip curled in amusement. "That you named Madame Meow."
He bit down on his lips to keep from laughing but a giggle slipped through.
"Yes John, I would have asked Sherlock but he's allergic and Molly has Audrey."
'Sherlock is allergic to cats?'
"I wasn't aware Mrs. Hudson died within the five minutes I haven't seen her." He raised his brows and folded his arms.
"Book club this weekend." She formed quotation marks in the air. "What she really meant to say was, no."
He considered refusing her but he couldn't bring himself to form the words. She almost never asked him for anything, seeing as she provided for herself more than well enough. A few days couldn't hurt. Obviously the cat isn't a complete terror if she'd managed to keep her hidden from him.
"How many days is a few?" He said with narrow eyes.
She grinned, obviously expecting him to turn her down. "Only until Tuesday afternoon. I'm due to leave in a few hours but I'll be home before three on Tuesday."
Okay, roughly four days. He could handle four days. Plus, he had Sherlock in case the cat tried to murder him in his sleep.
"Alright..." He trailed off. She'd hopped of the counter, leaving him with a brief kiss on the cheek before running out his front door. Yelling 'Be right back' over her shoulder, he was left to his thoughts.
'Aww shit. What did I just get myself into...' He went and plopped down on his sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. It took no more than ten minutes for her to return with what was the fattest beast of a cat he'd ever seen. The feline was grey and had one green eye and one blue eye. It was probably the size of John's entire torso, and he stared at her with wide eyes.
"That's not a cat. That's a small child." He raised his brows and pointed at it. "I said I would watch your cat, not a person."
She ignored his comments. "She will only respond to her name and she needs to be fed a special cat mix. She's very picky. " Irene handed him a small list of tasks with little boxes next to each, obviously meant to be checked off. "She likes a massaged before bed. If you play a little music beforehand, she get's better sleep."
John sprawled on his sofa and put a throw pillow over his face. Where was Sherlock when he needed him?
"Goodbye my love. I will return to you in a few days." She gave the beast a kiss on it's head and let her down to the floor. "Bye John."
A mumbled 'bye' emitted from under the pillow. He heard the door click shut and concentrated on the sounds of his breathing. He suddenly felt the beast pounce on his legs and stalk his way up to his chest. She weighed a ton. 'Holy crap.' John peaked from under the pillow.
'Ohmygod.'
It was staring at him with the rage of a thousand angry gods.
"Okay, nice kitt-" He moved to bring his palms up in a non-threatening gesture and she hissed loudly at him.
John was stuck.
If he moved, she would attack. He barely contained a jump when he felt her claws dip in between the fabric of his shirt. He tried to think...of anything.
Sherlock.
Sherlock!
His phone was in his pocket. He could just slip his hand... She started growling the lower his hand moved. 'The little shit...' He just had to do it. Fast and efficient. With as little movement as possible. Easier said than done. He slowly moved his hand down, keeping an eye on her, until he felt his fingertips brush against the cool plastic in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and brought it to his face.
. . .please. -John
He stole a glance at her. She was still glaring at him, patiently waiting for him to screw up. His phone buzzed in his hands.
John,
I know your observation skills are severely lacking but I have no doubt you've already noticed that it is simply a cat.
Nonetheless, I will make my way up to rescue you.
SH
He didn't have time to send a reply because no less than thirty seconds later John's door opened and in waltzed Sherlock.
Sherlock who was not moving.
Sherlock who was snapping a photo of him with his phone.
"Get her off." John pleaded.
He watched as Sherlock walked into the kitchen and came back out with a pot and a spoon. He walked right up to Madame Meow and without warning began smacking the spoon against the pot. John tensed waiting for the inevitable pain that would come with her sinking her claws into his skin, but it never came. She simply looked at Sherlock with bored eyes and hopped off of John's chest, trotting towards his bedroom. John flew off the couch clutching at his jumper.
"She's evil." He breathed heavily, staring at Sherlock. He just rolled his eyes.
"If that's all, I was quite busy and would like to resume my activity." Sherlock moved toward the door and John trailed behind him. No way in hell was he staying with that beast of a cat.
"What are you doing?" John struggled to keep pace with him.
Sherlock smirked. "It has come to my attention that certain video games are created to stimulate the player's sense of fear. I was merely attempting to download such a game and see if I could produce an emotional reaction. Plus, Anderson has a bet with Lestrade that I'll chicken out before I pass the first level."
He opened his door and practically ran to his bedroom. John had been in Sherlock's room plenty of times but it didn't stop him from feeling fluttering in his belly. He cleared his throat before his imagination could catch up with him.
"What game?" Sherlock sat in the middle of his bed, pulled his laptop on his lap and patted the spot next to him. John walked over and sat next to him peering at the screen.
"Lestrade and Anderson were discussing a game called 'Slenderman'. Stupid title." He yanked his blanket over his head like a cloak.
John perked up. "Yeah! Mike played that a few weeks ago. Said he couldn't sleep for days and wouldn't walk the campus at night alone. Really funny actually," He laughed.
"We shall see." Sherlock looked up at John and grinned. "Turn off the light and close the door."
There were so many thoughts that raced across John's mind and he was certain Sherlock could pick up on every one of them because he just laughed at John's distress.
"If I'm going to create an intense reaction of fear, I might as well be thorough and apply common stimulants that cause fear,"He paused. "...being surrounded in darkness."
John swallowed thickly. "Right, yeah, of course."
'...can think of other things to do in the dark...hell, I'll do them in broad daylight...'
He chastised himself and walked to the light switch. He flipped it and looked at Sherlock who was only visible by the light from the computer that illuminated his face. His window curtains were made of a thick black cotton and no light got through so it looked like it was midnight rather than early morning.
"John, it's starting." Sherlock held his arm out, the blanket forming a cave large enough for John to sit under. He shuffled over, stubbing his toe on the edge of the bed, before sliding on the bed next to Sherlock. They were shoulder to bicep, cocooned in a blanket of warmth, the laptop shining on their faces in front of them. Sherlock raised the volume to it's max as the beginning sequence pulled up. The word Slenderman slowly revealed itself in white, chicken scratch letters. The scene changes and they're suddenly in the woods, with a small orb of dim light coming from a flashlight, with the words 'Collect all 8 pages'.
"Here we go" Sherlock grinned. He was in control of the keys and began moving toward the trees in front of him.
"You can barely see anything." John leaned in closer, leaning into Sherlock's arm.
"That's the point." He continued to walk through the woods in no specific direction. The only sounds were the feet crunching on the ground and their labored breathing.
"THERE!" John yelled and pointed a finger at the screen. Sherlock glared at him.
They came to a big tree isolated in the middle of the woods. There was a paper attached. It read 'CANT RUN'. Sherlock scoffed but continued to make his way through the forest.
"The quality of the graphics is horrible," he quietly muttered. After a minute of walking they came across an abandoned truck with a trailer behind it.
"Check it Sherlock!"
"I AM John."
Suddenly there was loud static and the screen was blurring. They'd both jumped slightly.
"What was that?"
"I'm assuming that would be the Slenderman."
"Oh."
They were both quiet.
He kept moving.
John could have sworn he saw something lingering behind a tree but kept silent. A few minutes later they came along a an open field with brick walls intersecting each other creating four corners. There was another page sticking against the wall, this time a picture of a tree and a black stick figure with the word 'FOLLOW'.
"2 out of 8."
John chuckled nervously. Sherlock grabbed the page quickly and turned in the opposite direction. Multiple rows of massive oil drums were presented to them. Making their way down line, they found a third page that said 'DONT LOOK OR IT TAKES YOU'. Sherlock continued straight and this time John was sure he saw something.
"Sherlock, I swear to god I saw something in between the oil drums." He looked at him with wide eyes.
"Quiet John." Sherlock said between gritted teeth. "Why don't we have some sort of weapon?"
They finally came across a small brick building with archways but no doors.
'"In we go." John bit at his nails. They moved through the halls. A broken chair came into view and they both jumped.
"THERE! SHERLOCK! QUICK!"
"JOHN" Sherlock screamed at him.
He picked up a fourth page. This one read 'ALWAYS WATCHES. NO EYES.'
"ohmygod."
"Shut up John."
They backed out of the room and moved to turn the corner.
A resonating boom of a drum screamed through the speakers as well as the loud static they'd heard before.
A white man in a suit with no face appeared.
John screamed at the top of his lungs and threw himself into Sherlock's lap just as Sherlock kicked the laptop off the bed, gripping John. He screamed for a solid minute, with Sherlock's face buried in his shoulder.
"What's going on? Are you two ok-" Lestrade chose that moment to hurl the door open.
The two huddled men looked at him and screamed even louder. Sherlock grabbed John around the waist and somehow managed to throw him over his shoulder and bolt past Lestrade, out the door, into the hallway, and through the building. They made their way past Mrs. Hudson digging in her flower bed. Molly and Audrey just stared at them.
Sherlock regained his sense and stopped running. He slowly let John slide off of his shoulders. Both of them shaking, they stared at each other. Sherlock nervously laughed and rubbed the back of his head. John blinked away tears and sat on the sidewalk.
Lestrade made his way out of the building, smug smile on his face and arms crossed over his chest. "You played didn't you," He looked toward the window across the street, "They played," He yelled.
"Yeah, I got the video camera after the first scream. Filmed the whole thing." Anderson hollered from Sally's window with a devious smirk on his face.
Sherlock blinked at them, and turned to walk down the street. John drew his knees to his chest and rocked slightly. He was chewing the hell out of his bottom lip. Lestrade walked back inside laughing and wiping tears from his eyes while Molly walked over and patted his back with comforting words.
Later that evening, long past Sherlock's return and John's emotional breakdown, he tried to get some sleep. He had spent the rest of his day sitting on his couch watching TV trying to get his mind off of the game they played so many hours previous.
John turned off the telly with a sigh, heaved himself off of the couch and made his way to his room. When he flicked the light on he saw Madame Meow sprawled in the middle of his bed. He slowly reached forward to move her off but she got on all fours and hissed at him. He stepped back, hands up, and exhaled sharply.
He could sleep on the couch. His back would kill him the next day though.
There was always Sherlock's rarely used bed. He didn't really want to sleep by himself in the dark anyway.
He considered this.
'Ehh, it won't kill him.'
John changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, swiftly reached for a pillow without being mauled and made his way downstairs. With his pillow tucked under his arm he opened Sherlock's door and walked right in.
Odd
He wasn't in the sitting room or the kitchen, his usual night time residence. John walked past the bathroom. He didn't hear the shower running either. Adjusting his pillow he gave Sherlock's bedroom door a swift rap with his knuckles and went in.
The light was off but the window curtains were open allowing a small sliver of moonlight to fill the room. John could see a large lump under the covers on the bed.
"I've been evicted from my bed. Move over." He made his way toward Sherlock and pulled the covers back.
Sherlock was curled in a ball staring at him with a confused look.
"John?"
"Yes. Irene's demon cat kicked me out of my bed and quite frankly I'm too terrified to sleep alone. So move over." Sherlock scooted back allowing John to slide in under the covers.
He fluffed his pillow and faced his friend.
After a few moments, "Can't sleep?" John asked.
"Not even if I tried." He blinked.
John was exhausted and his sense of personal boundary was lacking. "Turn around." Sherlock complied and rolled on his side, his back to John.
He reached his hand up and gently stroked the base of his neck where Sherlock's soft curls began. John softly tugged on one until it was completely uncoiled and let it go, watching it curl back up. He repeated this for a while. Eventually he heard quiet snores coming from his friend.
"Goodnight Sherlock. Don't let Slenderman get you."