"Over there!"
"No, over there."
"I say it was there, and, I am never wrong."
"Well, I say it was over there, and I am never wrong."
"We can't both be right, so, that means you are wrong."
"And who gave you the right to say what was right and what was wrong?! GOD?!"
"… Yes."
"Quit that."
"Why should I?"
"You're immature."
"You're old."
"I'm wise, because of my age you insolent brat!"
"I'm quick and clever, you old toad."
Watson and Murdock boredly watched the two Holmes' spar each other with words, each opposite-gender look alike seeming ready to kill the other. Fire sparked in each pair of eyes.
"Any idea as to what they're fighting about?" asked Murdock. Watson nodded to the stool underneath the shelves of various ingredients.
"Someone knocked it over."
"So…"
"So they are fighting about where it was before someone overturned it."
"Erm…"
"Exactly."
"That's… confusing."
Both men turned back to the pair. Murdock held in a groan when he noticed how Spencer seemed ready to spit in Sherlock's eye. Normally, with someone who was normal he wouldn't have been worried.
The only problem was that Spencer had the nerve to spit into the eye of the greatest fictional detective of all time if she felt like it.
Suddenly, the two glaring people turned and began to whole new conversation.
"So it was…"
"Yes, yes, angled like…"
"Quite, quite… Adjustments?"
"Wasn't kicked that hard…"
Murdock looked at Watson.
"Do you have any idea what just happened between them?"
"My dear lad, I don't think they know what just happened between them."
"Right…"
"Okay." said Sherlock suddenly. "We can let them in now."
"Who?" Asked Murdock curiously.
"Them. The ones who smell like candy." Spencer answered, leaning over something disgustingly rotten that had the similarity to a dissected frog.
"Why thank you."
Spencer glared at Sherlock.
"Not you, you overgrown –"
Ben wrapped his hand around the girl's mouth. "Language!" he hissed, before quickly drawing back his palm, to avoid Spencer licking it like he knew she would.
"Which one?" She asked.
"Not. Fun-ny." Murdock drew out the last part of the word slightly as he gave Spencer a mocking tone.
"Yes it is. The annoying one is smirking." Spencer pointed at Sherlock.
"Annoying?!" Sherlock scoffed in mock hurt.
"Yes. You're worse than a three year old child."
""Hm. Should I take that as an insult?"
"I guess not."
"I thought not."
Murdock felt like slapping them both. "When you two die, you're going to kill the Grim Reaper."
"Nonsense the Grim Reaper's dead."
"What? No he's not, Mr. Holmes."
"If he wasn't dead, then why would he escort departed souls?"
"To be somewhere away from you two?"
The older man went a tad quiet. Then Spencer added; "By the way you implied it, you made it sound like we would kill Mr. Reaper by making him laugh extremely hard. That's pickle-foddle. The Grim Reaper has no sense of humor! That's why he's grim!" She grinned, eyes bright, and Sherlock gave a chuckle, while Murdock watched her with an expression worthy of being called a glower. Suddenly, she looked at the door, and Murdock noticed how her alertness reminded him of a hare or rabbit. Sherlock was just as alert beside her.
"What is it? Holmes?" asked Watson.
"It's –"Both started to talk at the same time, paused, glowered at the other and tried again.
"It's-"
Another pause, another huff of irritated air, before they both said in a rush of breath;
"It's someone outside of the door."
"Oh… Ahem… Who?" asked Ben.
"The one we've been waiting for, naturally." Spencer answered.
"Oh. Them." Watson said in a sarcastic tone, obviously irritated about something or other.
"Yes. Them." The nineteen year old girl looked at Sherlock, and, as though sharing an agreement of unspoken understanding, both casually began to stroll about the room. Watson simply sat back, crossing his arms, and, unsure of what to do, Murdock fell into step beside his friend. "Spencer, what is going on?"
"Someone's at the door. And when we answer it, I have a feeling they aren't going to offer us a few boxes of Girl Scout cookies."
"What then?"
"Do I have to elaborate, you incompetent fool?! A knuckle sandwich!"
"I think I liked the Girl Scout cookies better."
"Of course you did."
"I'm getting hungry…"
"This is hardly the time or place, Ben! But, if you are truly starved, there's a frog over there. I can stuff it down your throat."
"You really are charming, Holmes. Did you know that?"
"I am always aware of how discreetly amazing I am, Murdock."
Ben opened his mouth to reply back smartly, before suddenly the wooden door was thrown open, and two men stood there, one holding a half-eaten candy apple.
"Hello, gentlemen." drawled one. Then he noticed Spencer. He laughed, and walked over to her, grabbing her neck roughly. "And is this a lady?"
"Piss off."
"A snarky lass, I'm guessing." replied the man with an obvious sweet tooth.
"Yes… One that needs to learn to hold her tongue."
"Why on earth would I want to do that? I would look like a dimwit, walking down the street, holding my tongue between my fingers." Spencer snapped in return.
The man who wasn't restraining the girl stepped forward. "You could hold something else between your fingers."
"You sick, demented, bastard! I'll have you know that I am a cross dresser."
"I knew it!" Ben yelled, hoping that if he played along, the men might let her go.
"Well, congratulations, Ben, once again you have totally fucked up my sarcasm."
"Ladies aren't supposed to cuss, lassie." One man sneered into Spencer's ear.
"But, he just said 'e's a cross-dresser!"
"Do you not understand the meaning of the word sarcasm?!" Spencer glared at the man with a look that purely spoke of annoyed irritation toward this abomination of society that didn't know what sarcasm meant.
"Alright, both of ye need to shut up!" Spencer's captor was obviously annoyed. Then he looked over at Sherlock and Watson.
"What about you two? Ye haven't said anything. Are ye with 'em?
"We are, sir, but please, don't stop. The show is just starting to get good"
Sherlock then raised the heavy brass pan, pointing it at the man. "Spencer, my dear girl, who should I knock unconscious first?
///
A/N: I am. Terrible. Please, forgive me everyone!!!!
Disclaimer: I own no one but the two who are mine.