Hi dear readers! I am sorry it took so long! This chapter is a bit short…. But I hope you'll enjoy it!
Disclaimer: ... well you know it by now, don't you?
Chapter 10. A study in revenge.
John was dragging himself up the stairs of 221b Baker Street. He was tired. His feet were aching and he had a headache. All he wanted to do was sit on the couch with a nice cup of tea, put his feet up and watch something dull on TV.
John had spent the whole day on a new project in the clinic: providing health and hygiene sessions for schoolchildren. He had volunteered for the job because he liked the idea of teaching. Also, he was very good with kids. And though it was lovely, 3 groups of 20 over-excited 7-year olds was a bit much… John tried to make interactive classes and let the children do small experiments. This had proven to be a good idea since they could hardly sit still and listen to him for 10 minutes. But then the rest of the day John had been running around answering questions while being addressed as 'Doctor John'. He had fun though….
He really did like kids, John though as smiled to himself and opened the door to the apartment. His smile instantly disappeared as he looked into the living room. It was a mess. There were cool boxes everywhere. He couldn't even reach the couch. And there was a strong and nauseating smell of…. disinfection, mixed with chemicals and burned flesh… It was horrible. It was sickening. And it could only have one cause..
'SHERLOCK!'
John tried to make his way to the kitchen, which was quite a challenge considering the number of coolers piled up in the small space.
'Not now, John! I'm busy.' The voice of his brilliant but overly annoying flat mate came from somewhere in the kitchen area.
John angrily tried to get to him, and almost tripped over one of the coolers. In an attempt to keep his balance he hit his ankle to another box.
'Aw! Jesus, Sherlock what the hell are you doing?' John cursed. 'What is with all the damn coolers. Do I even want to know what is in there?'
Sherlock was sitting on the kitchen table, surrounded by coolers. He looked up from his microscope and starred into the space in front of him a few seconds before answering. He was clearly annoyed by John's questions.
'Body parts.'
John had seen his friends' characteristic stating-the-obvious-face. He was not in a mood to argue with the detective now.
'Fine.' John his hissed through his teeth. He climbed back over the boxes to get to the stairs. 'I'll just go to my room.'
'I wouldn't do that if I were you.' Sherlock said without looking up.
John stopped with one foot on a box. 'And why not?' He had a bad feeling he knew the answer to his own question and he to make an effort to keep his calm.
Sherlock looked up and starred at him. Annoyed.
John starred back.
The answer remained unspoken because it was not necessary.
'Sherlock, you annoying git!' John yelled. 'Isn't it enough that you use the whole living room for your stupid experiments?' He waived his arms to the room around him, almost losing his balance in the process. 'You had to put more of your crap in my room?'
'It is our house John. And there was not enough space here. Would you stop whining?' Sherlock snapped back.
'This is bloody unbelievable!' John shook his head. 'I'm going out.' He started making his way to the door. 'But we can't go on like this, Sherlock.'
If the detective heard him he didn't show it. John rushed down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. The cold air in his face made him calm down a bit. John put his hands in his pockets and started walking. Sherlock was so selfish. He didn't even see how annoying and egoistic his behavior was. It had always been bad but now this was getting out of hand! Sherlock needs to understand why he cannot do this. John took a deep breath. What if he would show his friend? What if he started doing some bloody annoying experiment of his own? John grinned to himself. Revenge! Now, he thought, what would annoy Sherlock the most?
Sherlock was irritated. He had always known the people of the Yard were not the smartest but this case was really too easy. A child could have solved it. Ridiculous. Sometimes he wondered if he should stop helping Lestrade as it might push him to look harder himself. But then again, what would he do without cases? Even the extremely simple ones were better than being bored at home. Fortunately he would not be bored this afternoon, Sherlock thought as he remembered leaving the cool boxes in the house today. John and his complaints would not be home till six so he would have hours to continue conducting his experiment.
But when he opened the front door he heard voices from upstairs. That wasn't John, he thought as he climbed the stairs. That wasn't Mrs. Hudson. That were several people. 15 at least. No wait, 20 maybe. And it sounded like… Sherlock pushed the door open... Children.
Lots of them.
Climbing on the couch. Hanging in his favorite chair. Sitting on the coffee table.
Sherlock was shocked.
'JOHN!'
'Not now Sherlock, I'm busy.' John's voice came from the kitchen area.
No! Sherlock thought in horror. Not the kitchen. Not the coolers!
'What on earth is this, John. What are all these children doing in my house? On my chair? In my kitchen?'
John gave him an evil grin from the other end of the kitchen table. 'I thought it was our house, Sherlock?'
'But… Where did they come from?' Sherlock sounded as if he had discovered a plague of cockroaches while gesturing with his arms to the kids sitting at the kitchen table (some of them on the kitchen table). 'Even you can't procreate that fast!'
Seeing Sherlock's face like that made John was a little worried Sherlock might actually have a panic attack or something. 'Easy Sherlock. They are the kids from the clinic. I am teaching them about health and hygiene today, but since it was extremely busy in the clinic this morning I took them here.'
Sherlock stared at him. Horrified. 'Why? Why would you do that to me, John? You know too much stupidity in the room gives me a headache! You know I can hardly stand Anderson for more than ten minutes, and yet you bring 21 noisy 7-yearolds to use the living room as a playground!'
John looked at him. 'Annoying, isn't it? When you can't have any space in your own home because your flat mate completely disrespects the fact that you live here too.'
The men stared at each other for a few seconds without speaking. John knew Sherlock had understood the message, but he was much, much too proud to ever admit it.
Then Sherlock looked away. 'I'll be back by six.'
'You're welcome to stay and help me.'
'No, thank you.' Sherlock said sarcastically while making his way to the door. On the way he glanced at the group of kids sitting around the coffee table.
'That better not be my microscope they are using, John!' He hissed at his friend.
'It is not, don't worry.'
'Oh.' Sherlock took another look at the group.
'You'll leave see anything sharp if you keep shoving it around like that.' He snapped at one of the kids. The boy looked up. 'I do too!'
'You do not!' Sherlock walked over to the coffee table. 'What is that hideous drawing?' He pointed at the paper filled with doodles next to the microscope.
'That's the flu!' The boy beamed.
'Pfft' Sherlock snorted. 'The influenza virus looks nothing like that. Move over!' He ordered the boy while he sat down in the middle of the group and started adjusting the microscope.
'Now look again.' The kids gathered around the device to get a look while Sherlock gave the boy directions on how to adjust his drawing.
John saw it all in surprise. Maybe he had underestimated Sherlock… His revenge had not agitated the detective nearly as much as the coolers had agitated John, but it seemed to have worked none the less. And he got to see an unexpected but very welcome side of his friend…. Maybe he should bring kids around more often…
Sherlock looked up at John and said, seemingly reading his mind: 'Don't even think about it, John!'
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