Prompt from Galaxy1001D: Dec 22: Write a story where Watson and Mycroft force the constantly dieting Holmes to eat a hearty meal.
I am not sure that I would call it "dieting", exactly, but I shall do my best.
"I am not hungry."
I ran a hand across my weary face and turned to the elder Holmes for assistance.
"When did you last eat Sherlock?" Mycroft asked quietly.
Holmes shrugged and continued to stare out of the window.
I stepped in front of him and slowly crouched so that I was at eye level with him while he sat. "If you continue like this your stomach will shrink until you can no longer manage a bite. Do you want that?"
"I am not hungry Watson," he repeated with a slight shiver. "Besides, I cannot spare energy for digesting. This case...!"
I frowned as he started to bite his nails. "That is not going to do you any good. Stop biting your nails and eat something; even if it is just an apple."
Mycroft Holmes shook his head at me. "This case has him too much on edge to eat," he informed me. "I suspect that he is feeling sick."
My companion frowned angrily at the words and turned in his chair to meet his brother's gaze. "That is utter nonsense! Cases do not make me ill!"
"Then prove me wrong my dear Sherlock," he replied with a smirk.
Holmes gave an exclamation of frustrated annoyance and sprang from his chair. He stalked to our fruit dish, snatched up an apple and bit into it with more aggression than I had ever seen in him before.
"There," he snapped at us both. "I have eaten. Are you satisfied? Now do please go away and interfere with some other poor fellow's affairs."
And with that we were banished from the sitting room with a dismissive sweep of the hand.