Day 7 Prompt: Candles
"Tell me again why you have to buy so many candles?" John asked as he followed Sherlock around Primark. They had already bought more than a dozen seasonal scented candles from M&S, Selfridges, and John Lewis.
"I'm testing a theory." Sherlock picked up a red candle with mint candies stuck to the outside and handed it to John.
"Do I want to know the details?" He brought the candle to his nose and gave a sniff before putting it into the shopping bag he held.
"Probably not." Sherlock walked around to the other end of the aisle and picked up a green candle in a glass jar. He eyed it for a few seconds then handed it to John as well. "I think we're done here."
John led the way to the registers. "Please tell me you have all you need." He unloaded all the candles on the counter by the register and ignored the odd look the cashier was giving them.
"I think so, yes." Sherlock jammed his hands in his coat pockets and glared at the cashier while
he waited impatiently as the candles were rung up and then painstakingly wrapped separately in tissue paper. After finally paying for all the candles, he grabbed the bag and headed out to Oxford Street to hail a taxi back to Baker Street.
After entering the flat ten minutes later, Sherlock took all the bags from John and stashed them in his bedroom.
"Not experimenting with them now?" John asked as he opened the refrigerator to see what he could make for dinner. He closed it quickly when he saw it was empty save for a bag of something Sherlock brought home from Barts the day before.
"It's not the correct time," he answered as he walked through the kitchen to the living room, removed his coat and scarf, and then settled into his chair.
"There's nothing to eat in here. I'm going to order a pizza. I've been craving one for a few days now." John opened up his laptop which was sitting on the table in the living room, pulled up the nearest pizza place, and ordered a pizza. He then opened up his blog.
A few minutes later Sherlock's text alert broke the comfortable silence in the flat. He pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket and opened the text. "Lestrade's got a case. He wants us to come to the Yard right now." He fired off a response and jumped up from the chair and quickly put on his coat and scarf.
"I have to wait for the pizza," John responding, not moving. "Go without me."
"But…" Sherlock started to protest.
"Get the details and then text me." John's stomach decided to growl. He covered it with his hands as a look of embarrassment crossed his face. "I'll wait for the delivery, eat quickly, and then meet up with you."
"It's not ideal, but okay." Sherlock shoved his hands into his gloves. "Come as quickly as you can." He then spun around and all but ran down the stairs and out of the flat.
John took a deep breath and began typing up a new post as he waited for his dinner and information from Sherlock.
Three days later, after the case was finally solved, John entered the flat with three bags of groceries. He put them on the kitchen table to empty when he spotted lit candles on top of the stove, the small table by the door, and next to the refrigerator. Shaking his head, he put away everything he bought then wandered into the living room with a sniff. There were two more lit candles in that room. One was on the coffee table and the other was on the mantle. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.
"Sherlock?" John called as he walked towards Sherlock's bedroom. A flickering caught his attention in the darkened bathroom. He took a step into the room and saw another lit candle flickering away on the sink. "Sherlock, you do know it's dangerous to leave lit candles unattended, right?" He paused and rubbed at his nose. "Are you trying to see how many candles it takes to burn down the flat?" He walked to Sherlock's bedroom door and looked inside. Sherlock was sitting on his bed with a lit candle on his nightstand and another one in his hand.
"I'm not trying to burn down the flat. I'm…" he trailed off, then sneezed into his free hand. "I…" he tried again only to be interrupted with another sneeze, then another.
John leaned over and blew out the candle in Sherlock's hand then blew out the one on his nightstand.
"I wasn't done with those." He looked at John slightly crestfallen then sneezed yet again.
John grabbed the box of tissues that was on the bottom shelf of the nightstand, pulled a few out, and handed them to Sherlock. "You are done with them." He took the candle from Sherlock's lax hand and set it on the nightstand.
"I need to finish, John," he almost whined, then sneezed harshly.
"They are making you sneeze."
"Obvious deduction, but irrelevant. I need to finish." He grabbed another tissue from the box John placed on the bed.
"I don't think having an allergy attack will help you." John sat next to Sherlock on the bed. "What were you doing with them anyway?"
"I was trying to find candles that have fragrances that remind me of the Christmases I spent as a small boy." Sherlock quickly stood up and fled to living room.
A small smile spread across John's face. Sherlock sharing anything about his past always had that effect on him. He got up to follow Sherlock but made a detour to the bathroom. After blowing out that candle, he went to the living room. He found Sherlock with his back to the room and was staring out the window. When Sherlock rubbed his nose, John went around the kitchen and living room blowing out all those lit candles as well. He sat in his chair and stared at Sherlock's back. "I thought you didn't do sentiment," he said quietly.
Sherlock flinched but didn't respond.
John actually felt guilty. He knew that wasn't the case the moment he said it. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I don't know why I said that. I know it's not true."
There was still no response from Sherlock. Sighing, John got up and went to the kitchen to do the washing up that he left from that morning.
"I wanted to share some of my childhood with you," Sherlock began quietly, still staring out the window.
Knowing the importance of this conversation, John dried his hands on a towel and walked into the living room to stand just a little bit behind Sherlock.
"The thing I remember most about Christmases as a child was the smell." Sherlock finally turned around. His face had gone a light shade of pink. "I wanted you to experience that. That's what I was trying to find."
John looked at Sherlock with a bit of adoration. "I'd be honored to share that with you, Sherlock."
Sherlock huffed in frustration. "But I can't do that now."
"You can." John walked over the window and opened it just a little. "Let the scents dissipate for a while. Then try again, but not with over six candles lit at the same time."
A genuine smile grew on Sherlock's lips and he grabbed John's shoulders in delight. "You're a genius, John."
