He ordered, handed me his card and left. I paid out of my pocket, this was before my break-down where I bought everything I could think of. It was just too weird to use another man's card. I wasn't even sure it was legal... Then again, I had just helped him break into a vualt at the police station for evidence. When I got back, he was flat on his back on the couch. I took the chair and started passing the food out.
"Set it on my chest." He said as I held it out to him. "Open." I hesitated for a long time. I had been given many orders up to that point in my life, and subject to a few hazings... But that request caught me off guard.
Finally, I remember, I pulled the top open, put a fork in it and sat it on his chest. He just laid there a minute before reaching for a napkin. He spread it out on his upper chest and tipped the container towards his face. Fried rice spilled out of it.
"Oh, Sherlock!" I said, sounding more like a mother than a room mate. He calmly began scooping it into his mouth. I hadn't seen that coming until it was done. But he looked content with the situation
"You're lucky I bothered with the napkin." What he was saying was 'You need to do my laundry.'
Equal to his energy on the job was his sluggishness without a case. He didn't expend any energy he didn't need to.
"Don't spill any on the couch." I said, starting my own. He picked a few pieces of rice that had rolled off the napkin and dropped them on the floor. I sighed and went to sit at the table. I ended up back in the chair. There were a handful of dead lab mice on the table. It was a safe bet that whatever killed them was still over there and it probably looked like salt.
That was the first time I heard him really laugh. He watched me from his position, all the while stuffing his face. It started slowly as I walked back to the seat. His chest, and the food, rose and fell sharply. We locked eyes as I lowered myself into the seat. That was it. We both started laughing. He had a heartier laugh than I expected. It made rice bounce around. On the couch, on the floor. I thought it was funny despite my earlier instruction.
We finished the food, chuckling occasionally. He started to close his eyes, food still everywhere.
"Oh no you don't! You roll on your sleep."
"So?" he rose his head.
"You are covered in food."
"Well, get it off me."
"Take your shirt off."
"Later."
"Fine." I grabbed the vacuum and plugged it in. I got the extension hose and vacuumed him clean. I got along his sides, even the floor. I rolled him over and got under him. It was like moving furniture to vacuum. I should have realized then that I would never get him to do anything he didn't want to.
I threw the shirt away the next day while he showered. He walked around shirtless for the next week in retaliation.
I opened all the blinds and curtains, he took his trousers off.
I invited some friends over, Lestrade had to come over and explain that he could and should be arrested for what he did.
He spent the night in custody. That was my fault... telling him to answer the door.