Author's Note: Plotless fun. This was intended to be the start of something longer, but then my brain went off on a tangent and this didn't serve its purpose any more. But I quite like it, so here it is.
The Rehydration Game
John, still a little bleary-eyed, even after a shower, padded into the kitchen. He found a glass that was safe to drink from (a skill that took him a long time to gain; even being a doctor was of no help) and poured himself some water. He realised he'd made an error in his judgement when that water started fizzing. Thankfully, he hadn't had a chance to drink it yet.
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, John?" was the reply from the living room, the speaker out of sight.
"Is there a single clean glass in this flat?"
"Have you tried in the cupboard above the sink?"
"Yes."
"No."
"What?" asked John, getting irritated.
Sherlock sighed and John heard the rustle of a newspaper. "There are no clean glasses in this flat. That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?"
"You're being patronising," John moaned, tipping the toxic contents of the glass down the sink and watching it swirl before disappearing.
"You're being grumpy."
Deciding that water wasn't a safe bet, John tried to find a cup which he could use for tea. He flicked the switch on the kettle and it rumbled as it set to work warming up some water, and thanks to the boiling it should be safe to drink.
"We're out of milk," Sherlock announced to the world.
"Oh, for God's sake!" said John, flinging his arms in the air dramatically.
He gave up on hydration and instead walked into the living room, taking a proper look this time. Sherlock was on the sofa, nose buried in one of the many newspapers he had gathered this morning. John glanced at the clock. It was 8 AM.
"You were up before me," he said.
"How observant of you."
"And you got the newspapers from the supermarket this morning and you didn't get us any milk. We need milk, Sherlock. We have to learn to look after ourselves. Actually, you need to learn to look after yourself. We can't always rely on Mrs Hudson."
"I beg to differ," said Sherlock. "Mrs Hudson!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "We need milk!"
