Bored. John Watson had grown to hate that word. Not the way one would hate stubbed toes or traffic jams, but the way one hates "break up" phrases or extended work hours. His was a deep, abiding hatred, because the word "bored" especially when uttered by one Sherlock Holmes, meant trouble; and not the-game's-on-John-because-we-have-a-case kind, but the there-aren't-any-criminals-worth-my-time-so-I-stuc k-a-severed-head-in-our-fridge kind.
When he first moved in the antics were fairly tame. (Were you to ask Sherlock why this was, he would tell you that there were a few worthy criminals who starved off the boredom for a time. Were you to ask John he would laugh and say that he thinks Sherlock was trying to keep from scaring him away?)
Whatever the reason, the fact remained the first taste of Sherlock's bouts of boredom that John received were in text message form. One day while at the surgery, John had had to turn off his phone because his text alert continued to sound over and over again without any break in between beeps. At the end of the day John had received 986 text messages that consisted of various renditions of:
"BORED!—SH"
Upon his arrival (and before any sort of protest could be made) Sherlock had pounced upon John, retrieved his phone and began counting the texts. Further inquiry proved that Sherlock was trying to see if he could exceed the amount of texts John's phone was capable of storing. John spent the next hour methodically deleting text messages.
That had been tame. John hadn't known it at the time, but that type of experiment was a sign of Sherlock being only mildly bored. One time, he came home to find the table full of feces. Sherlock had been doing some weird experiment that John decided not to inquire about. He did, however, make the horrible mistake of asking how Sherlock had acquired the poop. Needless to say, arduous apologies were made, and the flat smelled for days on end.
The most memorable bout of boredom had been when John came home to find Sherlock clad in a skin tight one-piece outfit, dancing in and out of strings of red yarn hung in zigzag patterns all about the flat.
"John, do not touch the web!" Sherlock exclaimed while trying to pull off a rather elaborate turning move between two adjacent strings.
John, used to the lack of greeting from his flat mate, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"I know I'm going to regret this, but…what are you doing?"
"Obvious" came the distracted response from a Sherlock who was attempting a strange summersault underneath a thread
"It's not obvious to me."John answered tiredly.
Having successfully reached the edge of the room, Sherlock straightened up and faced his baffled friend.
"The protagonists in the movie we watched last night were idiots. I could have navigated the lasers much better. To test this theory I have constructed a web, and to make the game more advanced, I have laced the yarn with a mild chemical. It will cause a minor burn, hence my exception to the idea of you touching it."
The two stared at each other.
"I was BORED, John."
"And I should never have allowed you to watch Get Smart."
Despite his initial misgivings, John found himself clad in a similar fashion slowly dancing among the chemically laced threads. He also, oddly enough, found that he was enjoying himself.
Hence his response to Mycroft Holmes' inquiry about the nature of living with Sherlock Holmes;
"What's he like to live with? Hellish I imagine."
John was merely trying to keep the peace; Sherlock took his next comment as the highest form of a compliment.
"Well, I'm never bored."
AN: I'm back! And to those who guessed my favorite Sherlock Holmes quote, you were right. I have more for this story and for my other ones that I shall post soon. Until then, please review and have a lovely summer!