Title : "An eye for detail"
Original title : "Le sens du détail"
Author : PlumePlume
Translator : MaybeBenjamin
Disclaimer : Nothing is mine. Sherlock is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's property, the adaptation is Moffat and Gatiss' one, and the story is PlumePlume's.
Note : Thanks to Plume to had agree for that I translated her story, from French to English.
And sorry for the mistakes.
Sherlock had never paid attention to this detail before, but now it became impossible to ignore it. This little, insignificant and ridiculous detail looked like teasing himself all time, disrupting happily his deductions, John having always the great idea to turn his head at the most important moments of his reflexions. Because yes, it was about John. It was always about John.
Sherlock grumbled. The case about the goldfish which was founded thirteen kilometers next to his home in a python's vivarium was however a too simply case for a child. The make-up traces on the secretary's cheek was the clear proof of her culpability. But it had taken three minutes for Sherlock to solve this insignificant case. Three minutes stupidly lost when thirteen seconds should have been enough. Everything because of this irritable and detestable little thing.
All John had to do was turn his head, for saying insignificant things to the goldfish's proprietary, for that Sherlock's Mind Palace become an horrible disorder. Impossible to concentrate himself on evidences as big as Mycroft's nose, when this irritable mark was there, just under his nose, like for challenge himself to ignore it.
Before meeting John and being initiated to all this stupid things foolishly human like emotions or the Solar system, the detective just could have suppressed this superfluous information of his hard disk. Yes but see. There was John. And the blogger had succeeded alone to create exceptions in Sherlock's system, which was before perfect.
First it was remembering unconsciously a lot of details about the ex-soldier. But Sherlock had supposed that it was normal because they are going to live together, he has to plan his reactions for escape some... desagreements. Then it had little by little others exceptions, sufficient discreets for being ignored by the algorithm. But the detective finally realized, at the New Year's Eve, when he surprised himself to be able to say some John's one-night-stand. He calmed himself with planning Molly's remarkable coming. It wasn't normal. He took the night to trying to put out of his Mind Palace all the mountains of dirts which accumulated themselves without his permission. For seeing almost immediately replaced by others unnecessary things concerning John, as soon as he passed the door of the 221B Baker Street.
This little dance had continued during weeks, much to Sherlock's chagrin. Until this. This ridiculous small detail which was the last straw which breaks the camel's back. This information how much unnecessary and stupid which turn out to be as impossible to erase in his mind as the acids traces on the kitchen table. There were no logic behind it, no reasoning or deductions to do. No experiences too. Actually, John will refuse categorically to be the subject of his "abominable and disgusting experiences", as he said.
But what is irratating Sherlock the most wasn't that the little tiny detail turned out to be unforgettable, but what it represents. After some years of flatsharing and hundred and hundred common cases, which put them to see themselves in situations which were really mad and politically incorrect (John had never forgiven his apparition when he was concluding with his stand, even the triple murder that they solved after was one of the most exciting). After all, he never noticed it. But however, this thing was as visible as the nose in the face. Sherlock felt almost humiliated by this mark, which, no only challenge all the logic, but more than that asked the detective's capacities.
Finally, Sherlock solved in some word the actual case and sent out their client, under the John's almost shocked eyes. This one asked him wordlessly but the detective ignored him and turned himself with plume, his blue dressing gown floating behind him. He felt more than he heard John stand up too, and go into the kitchen, searching probably a bit of comfort in his eighth coffee of this morning. Sherlock enjoyed the unusual calm of downing himself on the couch, joining hands under his chin. He prepared himself to go in his Mind Palace, for an hunting against unnecessary details, again, when John came in the room, looking a little bit angry. The shout that the doctor did some seconds before has surely a link with this.
"There are again eyes in my mug, Sherlock ! We had however agreed that you did what you can do what you want in your dishes ! God, I even bought them just for you !"
Sherlock accepted to open an eye, for seeing with a bit of satisfaction that his blogger, even if he looks like temporary angry, looked almost glad to had this little unusualities in his all-days-life. Sherlock's joy was however dampened when John turned dramatically his head to the left, like for ask the opinion of an invisible presence.
It was always here. Visibly exposed. Sherlock verified a thousand times his discovered, but it was the only one. It had no reasons to exist. There were no logic behind this detail, no sense. And it was maybe for that that this had became Sherlock's new obsession, almost nothing next to criminal minds like Moriarty, but no less irritating if it isn't more. It was just there. A fact as disturbing as unshakeable.
John Watson had a mole behind his left ear.