Payback time Part 2
John's desire for payback time almost melted away, but on reflection, he decided to go ahead with his plan. After all it wasn't going to harm his friend, but it would certainly entertain John.
He knew exactly what he was going to do and the order in which it was to be done. However, he needed to get the timing right. Sherlock would have to be in just the right physical and mental state for John to administer the sedative without the Detective noticing. It was a clear, colourless solution which had to be taken orally. That meant slipping it into food or drink.
In his mind he listed all the instances where he could not drug Sherlock either because it would be impossible, or for fear of detection:
1. When on a Case-food and drink obviously out of the question
2. When in manic violin playing mode
3. Whilst lying on the sofa staring at the ceiling and not talking for days
4. When on the odd occasion he was asleep
Realistically, this only left the option where Sherlock was so absorbed in peering into his microscope, that he would simply consume some food or drink that John offered to him without paying much attention. After all, John had perfected his technique in making the party food pinwheel sandwiches-tasty tiny morsels that he would arrange on a plate and set beside his experimenting friend. Sherlock would distractedly snatch them up one by one and pop them in his mouth. There was a problem with that though, because he couldn't predict how many of the pinwheels Sherlock would eat at one time and John needed to get the dosage of sedative just right. That left the "power drinks", as John called them. He made these in his juicer. Basically they consisted of different vegetables, fruits and herbs packed full of vitamins and minerals, processed together. Yes they were definitely the answer.
The opportunity arose a few days later. It was a Wednesday and his friend had been sitting in the chair all morning staring listlessly into the coal fire variously refusing offers of breakfast and shouting at Mrs Hudson. He had solved one small case on Monday and resolved a bigger one on Tuesday. John resigned himself to days of Sherlock moping around when suddenly; Sherlock leapt up and going into the kitchen began clattering about, opening cupboards and drawers.
"What are you doing? I was about to make some lunch for myself."
He heard Sherlock clap his hands together. "Vital experiment John! Oooh this is going to take the rest of the day. Excellent!"
John smiled. A couple of hours and it would be time for some fun. However, in the mean time he would have to go upstairs and retrieve the bottle of sedative from his bedside cabinet and ask Mrs Hudson for the rest of "the stuff".
John waited ten minutes or so and putting aside his newspaper, went upstairs and taking hold of the bottle unscrewed the top slightly to break the seal. He did this because he could not risk Sherlock hearing the distinctive click. The problem he had was that he had anticipated that Sherlock would be in the kitchen with said microscope and that is where John would have to prepare and spike the power drink. The noise of the juicer's motor running could conceal such a sound but he needed both hands when he was using it. One to control the power; the other to feed in the foodstuffs. With the cap already loosened, he could momentarily, take one hand away, grasp the bottle and spin the top off with is thumb.
He put the bottle in his trouser pocket-his cardigan would conceal its presence, and picking up a medical journal from the bookshelf sauntered downstairs. Placing it on his armchair, he went downstairs to Mrs Hudson to collect the rest of the "stuff". Once back upstairs he swiftly put them behind his chair cushion.
A few minutes later, John was calmly gathering together his ingredients: One small carrot; garlic; a handful of spinach leaves; half a head of lettuce and some ginger root. He took his time chopping, peeling and feeding it all into the juicer. The full amount of sedative was slipped into the mixture between the spinach and the lettuce going in. He poured the mixture into two glasses setting one beside Sherlock. He had calculated that half of the sedative inside Sherlock would be sufficient for the purpose.
He then cleaned the juicer and picking up the other glass, wandered off into the living room without saying a word. He poured the contents of his glass into a nearby pot plant, put the empty glass on his side table, and sat down to read the journal.
Fifteen minutes later he heard a long slow yawn from the kitchen. Turning around in his chair he saw Sherlock in the doorway stretching his arms. He walked slowly over to the sofa rubbing the back of his neck and lay down on his back, body stretched out, head laid on the arm rest; his eyes closing.
John waited, observing the rise of fall of Sherlock's chest until he was certain that his friend was fully sedated. He stood up and grabbed the "stuff" from behind his cushion. Taking the two little pots of face paint; one coloured black; the other red; he set the paintbrushes between his teeth and advanced towards the sleeping form. Opening the pots and placing them on Sherlock's stomach he then fetched a small stool. This he positioned close to the end of the sofa where Sherlock's head lay and sitting down made himself comfortable.
To work!
John began with the black paint and delicately applied a thin line from where Sherlock's right eyebrow met the bridge of his nose. This line he swept upwards at an angle of 45 degrees to the hairline. Stopping to dip the brush in the paint, he then brought the line downwards in a slight curve, ending it at the outside corner of Sherlock's eye. He repeated the same pattern on the left-hand side. The nose was the easy bit. He created a block of colour at the tip in the shape of an inverted triangle.
Now for the whiskers: One, two, three, four, five on each cheek plus a few little dots above Sherlock's top lip. John admired his handiwork. Ok it wasn't the best but it looked good on his friend.
Now for his lips: Loading the other brush with red paint he filled them in slowly, careful to delineate the outlines perfectly with no smudges. Hmmmh. He stood up, putting the stool back where it belonged.
Chuckling to himself, John grabbed his phone off the side table and took a couple of pictures of his face painted friend. Yeees! That done, he took the paint and brushes into the kitchen, dumping them in the trash. He also washed up Sherlock's empty glass. He tied up the plastic bin liner ready to take to outside later. For now, all he had to do was remove the evidence from Sherlock's face.
Bringing back some tissues with him, he massaged the coconut oil into Sherlock's face. The skin was remarkably soft. Using both sets of his fingertips at the same time-one for each side of the face, he described circles around Sherlock's eyes: stroked his cheeks with upward sweeping movements. Using his left middle finger he dabbed more oil on the end of the nose, rubbing it in slowly; the lips required more oil as the red face paint was quite concentrated here. He slowly traced first the upper, then the lower lip with a forefinger. Three times this was repeated. Finally, gently, he wiped off the paint. His friend hadn't moved a muscle.
Finished he went back into the kitchen debating whether to trash the coconut oil as well, but decided to keep it in the Medical Supplies cupboard as it might be useful in the future.
He washed and dried his hands thoroughly and returning to the living room, connected his phone to his laptop. Quickly glancing at a still sleeping Sherlock, he began the upload. Oh yes, he could go viral with these if ever Sherlock really, really annoyed him. But for the time being they would remain a threat. And when I create the password for the folder I'm going to keep them in, even he won't be able to work it out.
Scanning his screen he was puzzled that he couldn't see the two recent pictures. Wait a minute, don't panic, they've got to be there. Nothing: He sighed, trying to work out what had gone wrong.
He heard a rustling sound to his left and turned his head. Sherlock sat up, swung his legs from the sofa and stood-all in one graceful feline movement.
He smiled broadly at John. "Problem?"
"I er, no it's nothing." John hastily unplugged the phone.
Sherlock turned to look in the mirror, tilting his head this way and that. John felt himself blushing.
"Pity you wiped it off. I could have had fun scaring Mrs Hudson. Mind you, I wasn't entirely sure which animal you were describing on my face until the whiskers. They were a bit of a giveaway."
John let out a long sigh.
"How did you…..Oh God, you didn't drink it? What did you do, throw it down the sink? I didn't hear the tap running."
"On the contrary, John, I consumed your delightful concoction. You see I am resistant to many sedatives, having experimented with them over the years, and really the dosage you administered merely made me feel deliciously relaxed."
John was looking crestfallen and embarrassed all at the same time noted Sherlock, nevertheless, he continued relentlessly.
"You arrive home some weeks ago clutching a paper bag clearly marked Pharmacy. Nothing unusual in that of course; except for the fact that the said medicine remained unopened by your bedside. If you were going to use it as a replacement for your normal medication then I would have expected you to have thrown the rest away. But no. In fact you have continued taking your usual pills. You have 5 left each of ?"
John nodded dumbly.
"Therefore, the new sedative was clearly intended for an inhabitant of this flat, which obviously was not you. Sooo. Really John it was less than child's play. I am a little disappointed in you. The method of administration was also obvious. It had to go in your vitamin drinks and I generally consume those when….. Well you know of course. As for the face paints etc…."
John held up his hand.
"Yeah go on, how did you know about them? Give me the brilliant deduction to show me what an idiot I've been." John said in a defeated voice.
"John I am brilliant but not psychic."
John visibly brightened at this admission. Then frowned.
"I suppose you deleted the pictures from my phone when I was in the kitchen."
"Yes. An adequate deduction."
"Oh well, I still have the memory of your painted face." John smiled tightly.
"Now!" Sherlock sank into his armchair. "In what situation were you going to globally release those pictures? I have a number of scenarios in mind, but you know I would be more amused to hear about them from you."
"Oh shut up Sherlock, you've had your fun, you win as always." John stood up with the intention of going out for a walk.
"If it's any consolation to you..." at this point, Sherlock was waggling his own phone in the air, "I have a copy of your handiwork." John stared at the image.
"You took it yourself?"
"Well of course. That way I have a copy of something which will provide me with a pleasant memory, if I choose to keep it, which I think I will. Furthermore, it is safer with me than with you as I now have control over how and when or if the image is ever used."
Sherlock clicked out of the phone picture gallery with a flourish of his hand. John moved towards the door, grabbing his coat as he went.
"John don't go just yet, I have something to say to you." The softness of Sherlock's voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned to look at his maddening friend.
"Come here John." John walked back until he was standing beside him.
Sherlock startled John by taking his hand and placing it against his own cheek.
"You have a natural ability. I mean you are skilled in giving massages. I." Sherlock looked up at John kindly, seemingly lost for words. "I found it very relaxing, no, soothing and perhaps you could perform it again sometime?" He let go of John's hand.
Seeing the genuineness in Sherlock's expression, John nodded and put his coat to one side.
"And by the way, I can assure you, I will never delete the picture."
A comfortable silence filled the flat.
A/N And now we leave them. This is definitely the end of 'Cold'. Thank you for all your reviews, I'm so glad you liked this.
