A few weeks pass by with little excitement. I found a cute little shop that gave me a part time job, where I can come in whenever I'm not working on a case and make a little more money. Just something that passes the time. On a cloudy day, I'm walking home from an early morning shift when I hear three gunshots from the flat upstairs. The military training in me makes my brain shoot forward at breakneck speeds. Have to be prepared at what's behind the door. Also check on Mrs. Hudson. Oh God, I hope they're alright. I rush up the stairs and through the open flat door, spotting Sherlock laying on the sofa with my revolver in his hands.
"What the hell are you doing!?" I demand, storming over to remove the gun from his careless hands. I make sure the safety is on before I turn back to Sherlock.
"Bored," comes his droning reply.
"What?" I ask in confusion.
"I'm bored! I don't know what's gotten into the criminal classes. It's a good job I'm not one of them."
"So you take it out on the wall?" I gesture to the smiley face he sprayed onto the wallpaper.
"The wall had it coming," he waves it off.
"You know Mrs. Hudson's gonna make you pay for that. Literally," I mumble, stepping towards the case files he has spread across our desks. "What about the Russian case?"
"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time."
"Oh, that's a shame." I wander towards the kitchen, my stomach rumbling from my day at work. "Anything in? I'm starving." Before I hear an answer, I open the fridge to find a man's head staring back at me. I quickly close the door before I get too freaked out.
"Sherlock," I call, stepping to where he could see me. "There's a severed head in my fridge."
"Just tea for me, thanks," he responds, without batting an eye.
"Why is there a head in my fridge!?"
"I had to put it somewhere. You don't mind, do you? Got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the Taxi Driver case."
"Um...yeah," I respond, taken off-guard by the sudden change of discussion.
"A Study in Pink. Nice."
"Well, you know. Pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"
"No," he answers shortly, without looking at me.
"Why not?" I ask, honestly confused. I thought he would find it amusing, at least. He glances at me before pulling up my blog site.
"Sherlock sees right through everyone and everything in seconds. What's incredible, though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things." The tone of his voice, and having him read it out loud, makes it sound a lot worse than I meant it to be.
"Hang on, I didn't mean it like that-"
"What, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way?" He snaps, slamming the lid on his laptop closed. "Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister. Or who's sleeping with who."
"Or that the earth goes round the Sun?" I ask, pushing him further into his frustration.
"It's not important."
"It's primary school stuff, Sherlock!"
"Well if I did know it, I've deleted it since then. Only makes sense to keep stuff that's useful. Really useful. Ordinary people fill their brains with all kinds of rubbish. And then it's impossible to get at the stuff that matters."
"But it's the Solar System, Sherlock!" I interrupt again, making him even more agitated.
"What the hell does that matter!?" He finally yells. I cringe slightly at the sudden loud intonation. "So we go around the Sun! If we went round the Moon or 'round and round the garden like a teddy bear' it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters is the work. Without it, my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or, better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." He rolls over on the couch, signaling to me that he was done having this conversation. I glare at him for a moment, before going to grab my coat.
"Where are you going?" I hear him ask, as if he didn't remember the heated conversation we just finished.
"I need air, I'm going out," I tell him. Before exiting, I turn to look at him with a spiteful smile on my face. "If you need me, I'll be at Sarah's." His mouth opens slightly to object, but I quickly turn to leave. I almost run into Mrs. Hudson as she climbs the stairs, but sidestep just in time before collision. Without looking back, I leave the flat and begin my journey to Sarah's.
