Author's Note:
I'm so sorry I haven't posted in ages! I meant to, I promise, but life keeps getting in the way (university applications take a stupid amount of time). This one is also really short but I love it. I'm almost exactly like Sherlock in this situation which may be why. If enough people want it, I will also post the blog post that goes with this chapter (the case in America) so please leave reviews below.
Thanks so much to everyone who has already followed, favourited, or reviewed; you make me a very happy writer!
Chapter 6- or, John's experience with Sherlock the grammar Nazi
"You need a comma there." John sighed in exasperation and clicked back to correct his mistake. "You happy now?" he asked Sherlock who rolled his eyes and stalked back to his experiment in the kitchen. Five minutes later, he was back and hovering at John's shoulder like an overly-pedantic guardian angel. Every so often he would snort at something particularly hyperbolic or tut at a spelling error but he never articulated precisely what the problem was. It annoyed John to no end.
His blog was steadily becoming one of the most read online sources in London. The people enjoyed the excitement of his stories, the mystery and suspense of their cases, the humour that came with odd little anecdotes from life on Baker Street. Sherlock despised it. There had been at least one instance in which he had vented about it in the comments section, much to the amusement of his avid fans, and their banter had been the cause of several blazing rows that Mrs Hudson had dubbed 'domestics'. He wouldn't stop just because of Sherlock though. He continued to type. This particular case had taken them out of London to York, investigating some rather vague rumours of a Jack the Ripper-like serial killer. Sherlock solved it in a matter of hours, of course, but it was still of some interest to the public. Sherlock long ago decided he would only take cases rated at least a 6, though what the scale is I'm not quite sure. This particular case barely made it on the radar at first- it was only a 4 and mostly speculation- but then an old acquaintance of Mrs H went missing and all signs pointed to the murderer we'd been hearing about so Sherlock decided to go on up there. Sherlock was, of course reading over his shoulder again as he typed. The clacking of the keyboard acting as a siren's call to him. He snorted at John's style, or lack of it as he was fond of implying. This had been going on since he had moved in all those years ago and John had had enough.
"Will you stop reading over my shoulder if I take time off work so you can go on that American case you're pretending not to be interested in?" Sherlock huffed out a sigh and stepped back, arms crossed. "Honestly, John, you don't have to bribe me. I'll leave you alone if you want." Closing the lid of his laptop, John twisted in his seat to look at him. "No, don't start this again. I'm not giving in just because you guilt-tripped me; it's not happening." Sherlock was trying so hard not to look hurt it was laughable. John turned back to his laptop wearily. He really needed to get this case written up. Mere minutes later, Sherlock was back again. John slammed the lid shut and stood to face him. "Right. I'm taking time off, we're going on that case and you're going to stop bothering me." He picked up the phone and dialed the number, ignoring Sherlock's whining. "John you don't have to. I'm not interested in it, really." He booked the time off.