December 19:th - Tea Solves Everything
The teapot landed on the table with some force. Mrs Hudson tutted as she slammed some biscuits onto the coffee table as well, her face showing all the tell-tale signs of anger. "You could at least try" she told John in no uncertain terms "they'd be perfect for you, but you are as stubborn as Sherlock in a sulk!"
"Sherlock is not dating at all, Mrs Hudson" John attempted to defend himself "why don't you try to set him up with your doctor?" Mrs Hudson tutted again. "Sherlock doesn't need any other doctor than you, dear, and he is not the type to date. He doesn't need a partner - he's got a companion!" She gestured vaguely towards the carpet, sleeping draped over Sherlock's bare feet, in illustration of what she meant. Judging by how peaceful the scene was: Sherlock in his mind palace, the carpet... well, looking remarkably like an actual carpet at the moment, John had to concede her point.
He was about to come up with some other argument, when a loud swoosh sound almost made him jump, and the strange box which had kidnapped him appeared in the middle of the living room. Neither Mrs Hudson, Sherlock or the bloody carpet reacted.
"Good evening, dear" Mrs Hudson greeted, after placing a teacup gently on the table next to Sherlock. "And to you too" she added, when a man with red converse and a coat almost as swooping as Sherlock's stepped out of the blue police box. Was there even such a thing as those anymore?
"Mrs Hudson!" He man smiled charmingly, looking around the room with a large smile. "And Sherlock. Hello, Carpet!" He greeted casually, as if talking to animate inanimate objects were an everyday thing for him. It perked up at his voice, but didn't leave Sherlock.
"And you must be John!" The man stepped forward, offering his hand. "I wanted to say - it seems my TARDIS kidnapped you two days ago, I apologise. It has done that lately, must be a Christmas fab of some sort!"
"A what?" John frowned but politely shook the hand. "And who are you, exactly?" "A TARDIS, dear" Mrs Hudson cut in, having poured another cup of tea which she was now handing to the man "and this is The Doctor".
"Doctor who?" John questioned, but the man - who had just accepted the teacup after letting go of him - just grinned. "Exactly". Mrs Hudson had left them, John suddenly noticed, going back into the kitchen without a hint of matchmaking. That was odd. Then again, a man had just stepped up of a spontaneously appearing blue box and was now watching his flatmate -who he seemed to know, bizarrely enough - in a decidedly smittened fashion. Maybe it was just one of those days. Again. With a sigh, John went back to writing his blog.
I want to thank all my reviewers again: as with all of us writing, I believe, I am sometimes struck by doubt, wondering if whatever I've produced is worthwhile. All reviews help combat this malady, and I cherish them all, whether they're a long list of constructive critisism, a quote of an amusing scene or simply an "aww CLOAK" comment. As they say: reviews are love.
To the guest irene: thank you very much! It thrills me that you like it so much!
I do not own anything you recognise - I don't even know where some of it is from!
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