October 14th
"Sherlock, where in the hell did you get a cauldron?"
Sherlock looked up disinterestedly. "Oh, you're back."
"That did not answer my question. What are you boiling in there?" John asked, leaning over the cauldron and immediately backing up, coughing slightly. "Sherlock-"
"You shouldn't have breathed in the vapours," Sherlock retorted. He himself had a mask on. If John hadn't been able to make the connection, then it was hardly his fault. "It doesn't exactly smell pleasant."
John had taken a few steps back, trying to wave away the odour with his hand. "Yeah," he coughed. "I did notice. It smells like burning flesh-" He stopped suddenly. "Sherlock..."
"It was only the deep-freezed eyes, John."
"That doesn't explain why you're boiling them!" John retorted loudly.
Sherlock smiled and looked back at the boiling mixture. "Eye of newt..." he muttered under his breath, lips twisting into a full-blown grin.
"But those aren't newt eyes!"
Sherlock's face fell only slightly. "Never mind, John. I'm working, anyway. This is all for a case... well, it will be eventually, anyway."
"An experiment to see how fast eyeballs melt? Get rid of it!"
"It's a witch's brew!" Sherlock announced, grabbing a beaker of chemicals from nearby and throwing it into the cauldron. It sizzled ominously and bubbled. Sherlock's grin once again returned and he leaned back, just in case the solution would decide to froth over the edges of the cauldron.
"Sherlock, you are not a witch... I don't think," John muttered under his breath, "so, by design, you have no reason to have a brew in our kitchen. Now get rid of it."
"In a-" Sherlock frowned, watching the bubbles. It really was bubbling up quickly. "Ah." Thinking that he needed something to dilate the solution, he reached for his the saline solution.
"Sherlock-"
"Just a moment."
"Sherlock-"
"Just- oh, sod it all," Sherlock muttered, pushing away from the countertop and scrambling away from the kitchen.
He grabbed John's arm to stop him moving and had just turned around in time to watch his solution of a Halloween-ish sort explode. All over the kitchen and cabinets and sink and table, splotches and purple and green and blotches of murky white.
Sherlock could practically feel John vibrating with tension.
"... I'll clean it up," Sherlock said thinly.
"Oh, I know you will," John said, forced cheerfulness in his voice.
"... I'll, mm, I'll start on that-" he cleared his throat. "Now, then."
John nodded, still not moving.
Sherlock slowly let go of John's arm and walked slowly into the kitchen, trying not to tread into something that he would rather not have stuck on his bare feet.
John didn't move from the doorway.
It was, even from Sherlock's point of view, incredibly unnerving.
Witches' brew. :3 Sherlock's a bad boy.
Two weeks into October! Seventeen more days until Halloween! Get those costumes ready and go buy some candy to hand out (if you're 'too old' to go trick or treating).