Correlation
Sergeant Donavan is convinced that when she said that John Watson was not the freak's friend, she was telling the truth. And she's convinced that they still aren't friends, she thinks they skipped that step.
Her observation is based on guess work and the little links she sees, glaring at her. Especially the body language. They stand, walk, move too close together to be platonic, and they seem to know exactly what the other one is thinking, even though the freak's mind works at a mile a minute.
So when John Watson rushes in with a phone to his ear, and desperation wide in his eyes, Donavan knows that something isn't right.
Not that she cares. Right?
Spur
It caught his eye, okay? It isn't like he's going to make a habit of buying his flatmate random gifts but come on, it is almost Christmas and he just new that this scarf would suit the blond.
"What's that?" John doesn't look up from the paper.
Sherlock smiles deviously. "Nothing."
The doctor looks up, "Liar."
He laughs and throws the bag into his room, yelling back."Yes but I'm still not going to tell you what I have in the bag."
Though he cannot see, him, Sherlock just knows that John is pouting. "Don't pout at me, you know it doesn't work."
"Yes it does!" Indignance colours the tone.
"When?" Genuine wonder strikes him then.
"That time when you were playing the violin terribly at a heinous volume in the middle of the night."
He rolls his eyes. "That narrows it down."
"So you admit that you play the violin terribly at a heinous volume in the middle of the night?"
"No." He frowns, he set himself up for that one. "Goodnight, John."
He hears a yawn float up the stairs. "G'night Sherlock."
A/N: THANK YOU REVIEWERS You have renewed my confidence and made me smile. Tomorrow, or maybe Friday, I promise that there will be the second part of after eights, I promise.
Byee.
And The first one was a different view of a scene from "These calls always go to the police."
Byee