Fluffy goodness it is! Well, sort of fluffy? :)
In all seriousness, have you seen the amount of variety one product can have? It's mental.
Oh he was stumped. Completely and utterly stumped. Sherlock's eyes flittered back and forth between them. Why was it so difficult just to pick one? How did he even end up here?
"Bytha!" Sherlock roared from upstairs, "Bytha!"
Bleary eyed, dishevelled and still in her pyjamas, she trudged up the seventeen steps up to her brother's apartment.
"Sherlock," she began, irritation skimming her voice, "What is it?"
He too was clad only in his pyjamas, slouching in his chair, violin bow loosely grasped in his hand.
"We're out of food. No groceries,"
"Well go and get some then!"
"Why can't you go and get some?"
"Why can't you?"
He glared at her. She happily glared back.
John emerged from his room a few seconds later to find two Holmes siblings in the middle of an intense staring match.
"John!" Sherlock exclaimed with forced cheeriness, "Good you're awake. You can get the groceries,"
"No," he said incredulous, "I got them last week,"
"And me the week before, Sherlock. It's your turn,"
"Mrs. Hudson!" he bellowed, "We need food!"
"She's not here," John sighed, "Went to visit a friend,"
"Then we are doomed to starve unless one of you two, go out and get groceries,"
Both John and Bytha dead-panned him.
"Look," she huffed, "I'll go and get them," here Sherlock smirked in victory, "only if you come along,"
"Only if John comes along,"
"Only if I don't have to work the chip and pin machine,"
She grinned at the two boys, "Deal,"
The moment they stepped into the Tesco, Sherlock started rattling off the various poisons present in their vicinity and he also gave a very detailed account of his experiment on the effects of Salmonella poisoning. Shoppers were puttering about — mothers with children, couples, teenagers and Sherlock took them all in, drawing up conclusions on each of them. John went off to get the jam, Bytha to get pasta, leaving Sherlock standing awkwardly in the middle of Tesco, empty basket in hand. Just as she rounded the aisle, she had called out to him telling him to go get the milk. And that was how Sherlock Holmes found himself staring at a shelf full of milk, brow creased in concentration, contemplating which one he should buy.
"Whole milk?" he muttered, "Semi-skimmed? Skimmed? Organic? Flavoured? Extra calcium? Fortified with vitamin D?"
His eyes scanned the shelf once more, taking into account the different nutrition needs and preferences of himself, his flatmate and his sister before making a decision. Bytha was fond of flavoured milk as a child, but it certainly wouldn't go well with tea. Skimmed for John? He has been putting on a bit of weight. Perhaps organic — none of those nasty chemicals.
"Milk got Sherlock Holmes stumped?" Bytha smirked as she came up behind him, a box of Fusilli in her hands.
"Shut up, I'm trying to make a decision here,"
"Just get the one you usually get,"
"I don't know which one it is," he said, irritated, "John usually gets it,"
"Here," she pulled the semi-skimmed one down, "Get this,"
Sherlock stared at it for awhile before placing it in the basket, "Very well,"
"Now come on," she tugged at his coat sleeve, "I want to get some cookies,"
They met John on the way to the cookie aisle and he dumped two jars of jam into the basket before going off to get some meat. Upon turning the corner, they were met with the wonderful, delicious sight of cookies, chocolate and other confectionaries. Her mouth watered at the sight. She pondered for a moment, looking at the different brands and flavours before reaching up for a packet of chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip cookies that were on the highest shelf. Just beyond her reach. She tip-toed higher, fingers groping at the air — a futile attempt. She even considered jumping. But just then she heard a deep chuckle behind her. Sherlock was leaning against the shelves with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Sherlock," she whined petulantly, "Help me,"
"No," he smirked, "I prefer not to. You're rather entertaining,"
With a determined huff, she turned back to face the shelf — preparing for another try. But just as she was about to jump, Sherlock's arm reached out from behind her, effortlessly pulling the packet down and handing it to her.
"You were always too short to reach the cookie jar,"
She pouted.
About a quarter of an hour later, they were checking out and John silently prayed at the machine wouldn't cause any trouble for them — he would rather not repeat that embarrassing event again. Sherlock was forced to carry the shopping. He was rather upset. John and Bytha didn't care.
Upon reaching 221B, Bytha swiftly put away the groceries before plopping onto the sofa, recipe book in hand. John began writing up another story and Sherlock opened up his violin case. Sweet melodies filled the air, the notes gentle and soothing. Before long, her mind began to wander, her eyes began to droop and her hands started to grow lazy.
"Vita bona est," she whispered softly with a small smile as her eyelids fluttered shut.