December 13:th - Men Can Be Oblivious
John sipped his tea as he read the morning paper, looking through it with half an eye on mysteries and unsolved cases, out of pure habit. With the blog a still growing phenomenon and an increasing number of detectives from the Yard more than willing to cooperate with John on hand to smooth things over, it was not as important to look any more as cases came to them, but the habit stuck with him.
Sherlock, according to his new habit, was seated by the fire, dropping random objects for the playful carpet to catch. John still couldn't figure that thing out. And it was utterly perplexing how Sherlock did not seem to care. "Ho-ho" was the standard sound of Mrs Hudson coming to check up on them, once more bringing Christmas cookies decorated with peculiar symbols which intriguingly didn't seem to intrigue Sherlock in the slightest. John sighed as he greeted their landlady. No one made any sense these days.
"How did your date go last night, dear?" the old lady asked immediately, making him wince. "She spent the entire night sour because I had to cancel the last one because of that surgery" he replied, taking a sip of tea. "I don't think I'll be seeing her again".
"Well, there will be others, dear" Mrs Hudson responded in a motherly fashion, smiling at him. "In fact, there is someone I'd like you to meet, dear. Another doctor, like yourself" she said encouragingly. "A nice doctor, would that not be good? You could talk about medical things together, dear!" John held back a grimace.
"Thank you, Mrs Hudson, but I'd rather not go on a blind date. And there are many kinds of doctors, that's no guarantee we would get along - Sarah was one, remember?"
Mrs Hudson gave him a stern look. "You are far too young to give up, young man!" She berated him. He just smiled politely and went back to his breakfast. Mrs Hudson went to call the TARDIS again, to pick up in their plans where they'd left off last night. Maybe it and its Doctor had some plans on how to set the retalcitrant boys straight.
Sherlock listened to Mrs Hudson lecturing John with little interest. It was elementary that this was connected somehow to the phone call from yesterday, and John was more vacant than usual if he thought he could escape a plan made by Mrs Hudson. Chuckling internally, he put the bow to his violin for some cheerful Vivaldi, just to be contrary.
Mrs Hudson tries to set her boys up but they won't behave. Does the Tardis have any ideas?
I do not own anything you recognise - I don't even know where some of it is from!
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