Twas my 18th birthday two days ago. I am writing this as I prepare for yet another night of highly excessive drinking. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: don't own, but wish I did. I now own the DVD, though...
"A drunk old woman once broke my nose because she thought I was stealing my own car."
John was simultaneously nursing a split lip whilst holding a blood-stained tissue to his nose.
Sherlock was unsympathetic. "Why did you look so suspicious in the first place, then?"
"I couldn't help it. She was drunk, and I'd just dropped my keys."
"So, what happened today?" Sherlock inquired, sounding beyond bored as he flicked through John's copy of The Times without interest.
"Security guard."
Sherlock made a disbelieving noise. "You face-planted," he declared.
"I did not!" John exclaimed, but the tips of his ears turned red.
"Wow. Well done. Proud of you." Sherlock returned to the paper and scoffed at an article in the business section. "Clearly, I can't let you out alone. Especially on a Sunday morning. Far too dangerous."
"I'm an adult, Sherlock, and you're hardly fit to babysit me."
The enigmatic detective peered over the top of the newspaper. "Meaning?"
"You're an intelligent man; you work it out," John grumbled, snatching the newspaper back onto the rightful place on his lap. He shook out the ruffled pages so that they settled correctly over his knees.
Sherlock picked up the carrier bag with John's other purchases inside. He popped a mint into his mouth, placed two apples on the coffee table, and began to toss and catch the third. "Where are my mushy peas?"
"You don't even like mushy peas," said John, mildly, as he took up a pen to do the crossword with.
"Yes, I do," Sherlock objected, pausing his toying with the apple to glare at his flat-mate.
"You just squash them on the side of your plate," John reminded him.
"I like to do that," said Sherlock, resuming his catching game.
"You asked me to buy you mushy peas for the pure intention of mushing them further?"
"Yes."
John shook his head, ruffled his newspaper rather unnecessarily, and cursed lowly when a drop of blood from his nose fell onto the puzzle page.
"John, you are simply not in a state to do that crossword," announced Sherlock, whipping the newspaper out of John's flailing hands. "Besides, they are a ridiculous way to waste time."
"Read them out," John requested, clamping a new wad of tissue to his nose.
Sherlock simply scoffed, but John was insistent.
"Sherlock, you can't confiscate my paper and then refuse to help me to do my Sunday morning ritual," John challenged him.
Sherlock gave him a long, strange look, before holding his hand out for the pen.
John eagerly surrendered it, and watching with amazement as Sherlock carefully folded the large puzzle page in half, and settled it on his knee.
"Be about to happen," Sherlock announced. He looked expectantly at his companion.
"Approximately?"
"No." The pen was poised.
"Well, how many letters?"
"Six."
John considered. "Almost. Or nearly."
"Well, which?" Sherlock demanded, impatiently.
"What's one of the clues down from it? Then we can work it out."
"What's the point of that?"
"Just... read the clue, Sherlock."
"From within."
John thought for a moment. "Letters?"
"Seven."
"Content?"
"No," said Sherlock, sounding bored.
"Why not?"
"Latin," said Sherlock.
John looked baffled. "We'll come back to that one... unless you have any ideas?"
"Ab intra." He wrote it in.
"You said it was seven letters."
"Two plus five is seven. Honestly, John..." He moved onto the next clue. "Isolated US state. Six letters."
"Do you know that?" John asked, sounding slightly bemused.
"I know London. America holds little interest to me."
"Alaska."
"Jupiter's number of moons."
John smirked. "Feel free to answer that one yourself."
"John." Sherlock sounded irritated.
"Sixty-four."
"Hmm." Sherlock penned in the answer with obvious distaste. "Have you heard from Lestrade?"
"Wants your help tomorrow with a nice murder."
"How is it interesting?"
"Curious blood-splatter."
"Wonderful," said Sherlock, brightening considerably. "John, divergent?"
Thoughts?