Don't get mad. Get even.
AN: If I haven't told you guys how fantastic you are, I should more often. I love the feedback you guys have been giving me on this, and it really boosts my spirits especially as of late. So thanks to all of you who have commented or even just have dropped by and read. It makes me smile especially when the days can be really rotten sometimes. xxHoney
In conjunction with the chapter 'Musical Cabs' in part three of this series.
Revenge
Mr. Science Man – 7:08 PM
I suppose you think this is funny?
SH
Sent – 7:25 PM
I do, yeah.
Mr. Science Man – 7:48 PM
Well?
Sent – 7: 49 PM
well what?
Mr. Science Man – 7:49 PM
Are you going to do something about it?
SH
Sent – 7:52 PM
oh I suppose. eventually. I'm having a pint with greg right now.
Mr. Science Man – 7:52 PM
You're just going to leave me like this for the foreseeable future, then?
SH
Sent – 7:53 PM
problem?
Mr. Science Man – 7:53 PM
Yes. I don't think you can imagine how inconvenient this is.
SH
Sent – 7:54 PM
you want to know what's inconvenient, Sherlock? an ASBO. that's what. I'll be back in twenty minutes, keep your shirt on.
-oOo-
Sherlock stares down at his phone in his left hand, dismayed as he sits at the table. For the tenth time he tries to dislodge his right hand from where it is curled — stuck with industrial strength adhesive — around a glass beaker. A lovely prank by his wily flatmate. Revenge from when she was mistakenly blamed for tagging the side of the National Gallery. (How childish. It wasn't anyone's fault really. Well, aside from Raz.)
He glares at no one in particular, and decides to observe the coagulation rate of thawed blood under his microscope. He goes to adjust the height of the eye pieces, and over corrects with his left causing them to jab painfully into his eye sockets. He pushes it away in frustration and goes over to sulk on the sofa.
Jane comes back about thirty minutes later in a disgustingly good mood, and he curls on his side in a huff.
"Did you have a good night with Greg?" he grumbles to the back of the sofa.
"I did," she says hanging up her jacket. (She's just oozing her smug superiority.)
"I hope you know your little prank probably cost a murderer. The experiment I was working on was delicate and extremely time sensitive, and now it's ruined," he sniffs disdainfully.
"I'm sure you can repeat it, and all will be right with the world," Jane says.
"I assume you have the solvent?" Sherlock snips.
"Yes. I wouldn't just leave you in this state. The fate of murderers and whatnot," she chuckles and skips up the stairs to her room. She comes back a moment later. "Come on, up you get," she says and prods him in the back. He whips around angrily, shooting her his most murderous glare. It doesn't have the desired effect, however, seeing as how she immediately bursts out laughing.
"What is so funny?" Sherlock says through his teeth.
"Nothing, nothing! Not a thing," she says wiping her eyes. "C'mon, let's get you sorted." He huffs and follows her into the kitchen. She turns on the tap to warm, and stops up the sink giggling all the time.
"Are we even now? Did you get it sufficiently out of your system?" Sherlock says allowing her to submerge his hand in the warm soapy water, beaker and all.
"Aw, I was just having a bit of fun. No harm no foul."
"For you maybe. No one likes to be proven the fool," he says imperiously. She takes his hand out and applies a generous amount of the solvent to the seam between his hand and the glass.
"Ah, now you're getting it," she says pointedly. "By the way, you're still coming with me to court. Don't think I've forgotten."
"Surely I've been punished enough," he grumbles. She tries to lift one of his fingers from the glass, and he hisses in pain when his skin starts to pull. She dunks in back in the water. "Besides. It seems as if your court date has been cancelled."
"Cancelled? How do you mean? They don't just cancel court," Jane says working his fingers somewhat loose under the water.
"They do if they've lost your records," Sherlock says casually. Jane stops and looks up at him.
"Lost my records?"
"Something to do with a clumsy security system and an underpaid clerk," he says.
"Did you just —?"
"Please let's not call attention to the fact that I currently am indebted to my brother," he sighs.
"Actually, I was wanting to call to attention the fact you did something incredibly nice for someone else," Jane says only half joking. There was a sincerity and gratitude in her voice that caught him by surprise. (The ASBO apparently bothered her more than she let on.)
"Yes well…on occasion I have been known to — OW!" Sherlock yelps mid sentence as Jane tugs particularly hard on the beaker. "What are you trying to do, strip the flesh from my palm?!"
"Sorry! It's a lot more stubborn than I thought," Jane says bringing his hand up to eye level. She pulls again.
"AHH! Stop. Doing. That," he snarls and tries to snatch his hand away.
"Don't be such a girl," Jane says holding fast to his wrist. "It'll only sting for a moment. Like a bandage."
"No! No definitely not. Why don't we soak it some more?"
"Sherlock. It'll be real quick I promise. Just think of something to distract you," she says.
"Like what?"
"I don't know…the periodic table?"
"Or how about how many nerve ending are in the human hand, and how the most sensitive — OW dammit Jane! I was being facetious!" he yells again. "It's not working!"
"Think of something else then!" she says becoming equally frustrated.
"Like what? I can think up to seven different things at once and I still am wont to get bored on occasion."
"Then shut your brain off for a change."
"Please. There's nothing short of a coma that would —" Sherlock's sentence is abruptly cut off when Jane suddenly stands up on her tip-toes and kisses him on the cheek. (Soft, warm, slightly parted. A whisper of skin and lemon lip balm. Awfully close to his mouth. Actually practically the corner of his mouth. If he had moved his head just a fraction with the height difference it would have made it so —)
"There, see? Easy peasy," Jane says and sets the beaker down on the counter. He looks down stupidly at his now empty hand.
"How did you…?" he trails off. She's not really paying attention now, and goes about preparing tea. He leans up against the counter and watches her, content in simply observing how she methodically pours and steeps the tea, making up his cup first (always first, two sugars and a splash of milk) before her own. (She doesn't use sugar in her tea even though she always dips her pinky in the dish and licks the white crust off the pad of her finger. Why does she do this? He doesn't know. A habit picked up from childhood most likely. But really it's because it's Jane. Just Jane. It shouldn't be fascinating, but it is.)
"Sorry about that by the way," she says joining him against the counter. She inspects his hand and grimaces in sympathy at the redness of his palm. "And…thank you. Really, Sherlock, I mean it."
"It really wasn't a hardship," Sherlock says and sips his tea. "Besides, it's always fun picturing the look on Mycroft's face when he realises he has to do bureaucratic leg work. Annoys him to no end."
"Well what ever the case, thank you," Jane says, and they stand there for a moment in companionable silence. Finally Jane turns to him with a sheepish expression. "I should probably mention that you might want to go look in the mirror," she says and bites her lip furtively.
Sherlock glares at her suspiciously before putting his mug down and making his way to the bathroom. He groans when he sees two blackened circles ringing his eyes. Shoe polish it looks like, surreptitiously smeared around the eyepieces of his microscope no doubt.
"JANE!" he bellows, and is only met with the sound of her uproarious laughter.
Seriously, though. You guys are awesome. I hope you liked this chapter even though it's a little short.
