LET'S DO THIS THING

[aphelionix]

While by no means a device to get Sherlock to shut up, the telly did manage to at least make him sit in one place. (Unless he was particularly into one of the cheesy soaps on, in which case he'd jump out of his chair and yell at the actors.) He had recently gotten into another disagreement with his brother, as well, and it was a good distraction. It kept John from getting caught in the middle, holding each brother at arms length away from each others' throats.

There was the occasional text Sherlock would look at and ignore, going back to the telly. Lestrade didn't have any good cases for him. He put his phone back in his pocket, huffing with disappointment.

"John. Want some tea?" he said, making the motion to look over his shoulder, despite not looking away from the screen.

Comments

[pugsmuggler]

“Wha,” John blurted out half-consciously, Sherlock having pulled his attention away from a spell of typing on his laptop. He had been at it for the past couple hours, during which Sherlock had been completely silent. Naturally, John had tuned out the television and decided to use his quiet time to get some blogging done.

“—Oh yes,” he obliged belatedly. “Please.”

[aphelionix]

"Okay."

Sherlock didn't move.

[pugsmuggler]

And for a moment, John simply returned to his typing. It wasn’t until he turned back to look at Sherlock not once, but twice that he realized there was no intention between them to prepare tea. “Were you not… proposing to go make some?”

[aphelionix]

"I assumed you would," Sherlock said bluntly.

[pugsmuggler]

“Right,” John said as he sucked in a sigh.

"Sugar?" Pushing back from the desk, John collected himself into a stand, making a lazy walk into the kitchen. He combed a few fingers across his left temple, bringing his hand back down to rub his forehead.

[aphelionix]

"No. Just milk."

Sherlock glanced up to John, and once he was sure he was around the corner, hopped up from his chair and settled into John's, glancing over his laptop. He sighed upon scrolling through John's blog, typing comments here and there.

"Hat-man and Robin. Ridiculous."

[pugsmuggler]

"It's clever," John corrected, putting the water on to boil.

[aphelionix]

"Of course you'd think so," he groans, sometimes fondly disappointed in how simple his flatmate can be. Sherlock gets bored of browsing John's blog and switches to a local news site instead. 'A Scientific Study On The Cuteness Of Puppies' greets him on the front page. Sherlock sighs dramatically.

"It's ridiculous what people call science these days. Tea ready?"

[pugsmuggler]

"Here you are," John said, settling the mug onto the computer desk once he'd returned to the main room.

"Now what's this about science?"

[aphelionix]

"Puppies," Sherlock answered, taking his tea and sipping it carelessly. "Very good, John. Thank you.

"It's a study on how they are relaxing," he continued with a scoff. "Can you imagine? A yappy little thing, demanding attention and walks and having accidents on the carpet, being relaxing?"

[pugsmuggler]

"Well, they're cute, aren't they?" John reminded. "It's not entirely unbelievable."

John sunk back into the kitchen, grabbing his coat from backrest of the couch as he did so. "I suppose I should head out after this cup," he informed. "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave that blog post alone in the meantime."

[aphelionix]

Sherlock scrolled through more ridiculous headlines, saying things out loud now and then about each one. After tiring of each, boring thing the internet had to say, he stood, grabbing his own coat and scarf.

"Right. Well. Let's go, then."

[pugsmuggler]

John's pressed his lips into a flat line, exhaling. "I am heading out Sherlock. I didn't say we."

[aphelionix]

The scarf was already snug around Sherlock's neck, and his coat half-buttoned.

"Then how do you expect me to leave your blog post alone?"

[pugsmuggler]

John pulled in a long sigh, taking gulp from his tea before speaking again.

"Sherlock, this is important," John persisted. "I haven't had a date in months. I'm going to the pub to pick up girls, and you're going to do something else -- something that doesn't involve blowing holes in our wall. Or my blog post."

[aphelionix]

"Oh, come on," he whined, whirling in a circle before plopping down in his chair. "I can handle myself just fine in a pub! You won't even know I'm there."

Never mind that the issue wasn't whether Sherlock could handle himself - it was whether John could handle Sherlock.

[pugsmuggler]

"No," John said. "No, Sherlock. You have consistently been the reason I have not been able to get, or even keep a date. You can go to a different pub."

[aphelionix]

"What do you even need dates for?" Sherlock scoffed, not grasping the importance of intimacy of another sort. (Besides, they tended to leave soon after they met Sherlock anyway - and it was inevitable that they would.) "And what would be the point of going to another pub?"

[pugsmuggler]

"A girlfriend," John sputtered out in disbelief. "I want one. Some people like the idea of finding a significant other."

not-so-subtle-beaton-reference time

[aphelionix]

There was a rare moment of silence from Sherlock as he contemplated what John told him. He sunk deeper in his chair, curling his coat around him with a long suffering sigh.

"Fine," he gave in. "Go find yourself a girlfriend. I will sit here consumed with boredom for the rest of the evening. I hope you're happy, John."

[pugsmuggler]

"I am, actually," John said, placing his mug back on the counter. "Positively merry. Now, I'll have my cell on me. You're welcome to text me if anything important comes up."

John grabbed his scarf from the door hanger as he exited the kitchen, knotting it around his neck. "If you're bored," he began, buttoning up his coat. "You could clean up around here a bit. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would appreciate it."

[aphelionix]

"Everything's already organized," he responded, head lolling back. (Well, organized relative to him.) Sherlock reached blindly for his violin bow, mindlessly running his fingers along it as he stared at the ceiling. "No promises on your blog post."

[pugsmuggler]

"Yes, noted," John said hurriedly, seemingly unruffled by the idea as long as it was enough to keep Sherlock out of his hair for long enough try his luck at the pub.

And with that, he was gone.

[aphelionix]

Before John even had time to call a cab, he received a text:

Bored. -SH

[pugsmuggler]

Feeling the vibration of his phone, John only gave grievous sigh. He waited to bored a cab before responding.

Not important. -JW