December 22: "I told you not to touch it!" (from Madam'zelleGiry)

A/N: Watson's POV.

I dedicate this story to the kid in my chemistry class who thought it would be a good idea to touch the hotplate to see if it was hot. The blistered burns on his fingertips would seem to indicate that it was, indeed, hot.

"Anything interesting in The Empire News this week?" I inquired of my friend as we sat at the table awaiting our supper.

"Hm," was Holmes's only reply. He was apparently too engrossed in his reading to hear me.

We were silent for a long time, but in the many years of living with Sherlock Holmes, I had grown accustomed to silence.

I leaned back in my chair, watching Holmes's studious expression. As his eyes scanned the article, his brow slowly furrowed and the frown lines around the corners of his mouth deepened. Apparently a particularly gruesome crime had arrested his attention.

"Here you are, gentlemen," said Mrs. Hudson when she finally set down a couple bowls of very thick, delicious potato soup. "But be careful, it's very hot."

"Thank you, we shall be careful," I replied, smiling at her. Goodness, was I hungry!

"Mm," Holmes grunted. He was still paying far more attention to the newspaper than anything else.

Mrs. Hudson gave a quiet "Hmph!" at Holmes's response, turned on her heel, and swept from the room.

I picked up my spoon, dipped it into the soup and blew gently on it, watching the tendrils of steam rise from the delicious soup.

Holmes looked up from his newspaper, as though he had only just noticed food had arrived.

"Ah, wonderful!" He exclaimed, snatching up his spoon, scooping it through the soup.

"Be care—" I began, but it was too late. The spoon was already in his mouth.

My friend's eyes widened and watered, and his face contorted into a grimace of pain as he attempted to swallow. Taking pity on him, I poured some milk into a glass and handed it to him. He accepted it gratefully and gulped it down, blinking back tears.

"That was hot!" he exclaimed when he finally spoke.

"You know, Mrs. Hudson and I both did try to warn you," I remarked. "But I suppose if you aren't going to listen to those around you, you ought to at least use your brilliant observational methods. You will, of course, note the steam rising from the soup, which would clearly indicate—"

"I get the idea," Holmes growled.

A/N: I know, it didn't quite fit perfectly with the prompt, but I'm really craving potato soup right now for some reason.

And hey, I'm actually caught up! :)