Little Games
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Author: MonkeyBard "There's a new Green Lantern movie out today. Do you want to go see it this weekend?" Sherlock looked up from the dining table where he was doing something that required safety goggles and a microscope. "I have no idea what that is." "Green Lantern. Superhero. DC Comics?" John offered each identifier with a growing feeling of futility. "Never mind." John dropped the newspaper onto the coffee table and rose from his seat. He went to join Sherlock, standing across from him and peering down at whatever he was up to. Sherlock, predictably, ignored him, smearing red liquid onto a slide and then clipping the slide into the microscope. "Is that blood?" Sherlock's irritated glare was enough of an answer. "I only wondered whose it was," said John, refusing to apologise for what his flatmate obviously felt was a stupid question. A syringe and needle sat near by in a plastic tray. They appeared unused, so John guessed the blood wasn't Sherlock's. Good thing, that, John thought. "That is a good question." "New case, then, is it? Something for Lestrade or are just collecting random blood samples as a new hobby?" The sarcasm wasn't lost on Sherlock and he turned another look of annoyance on John. John only smiled mildly, pleased for no good reason at having irked him. "Don't you have something to do?" asked Sherlock eventually. "No." "I thought you said watching me run experiments like this was...what was the phrase you used? Ah yes, 'about as exciting as watch grass grow'." His wry tone was well matched to that of John's earlier quip. John made a point of watching him work for a solid two minutes after that before deciding he'd made his point--assuming Sherlock bothered to notice it. "I'm going for take-away." He went to collect his coat and wallet. "Do you have a request?" "No." "Do you have any cash?" "No." "All right. Lutefisk curry it is and I'll put it on your card." That, at last, got him a reaction. "What?" John kept his expression innocent and utterly neutral. "Lutefisk? It's lye-soaked fish. Cod, I think. Very popular in Norway." "It sounds vile and potentially deadly." "I'm told the curry helps." He couldn't fight it. The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and he was caught. Sherlock's pale eyes narrowed and he smirked. "You're full of shit, John." "Yes, I am. That's why you love me." "I wouldn't put it high on the list." John laughed. "Chinese, then?" "Yes." "Back in a few." "John?" Sherlock called after him. John paused on the stairs. "Yes?" "Be safe." It was the closest he ever came to saying it, but John understood what he meant. "I'll do my best." |
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