June 4, 2011

Note: My first little BBC Sherlock slashficlet. Barely MA. More to come.

Drip

"Damn it, Sherlock, why do you ask me to do these things?" snapped John, banging his tea cup onto the end table for emphasis and turning his back in the unkempt yet comfortable easy chair. The man was maddening. John eyed the jam-filled biscuits Mrs. Hudson had brought up, with her usual impatient kindness and dismissive "not your housekeeper" refrain.

"All right then," answered Sherlock with a wave, "I'll put the brain back in myself." Sloshy, squidgy sounds ensued as a knowing smirk spread across the world's only consulting detective's face. "You can help me with another little experiment."

John crunched biscuit and remained facing away from the kitchen-cum-laboratory. He'd been tricked again. Sherlock had never intended to have him help with his cat brain autopsy project, one of a thousand little diversions from boredom. He picked up another biscuit, deciding he'd eat all of them in spite. Ineffectual, pointless spite. In fact, it was impossible to spite Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock rose, returned the feline cadaver to the refrigerator, and went to wash his hands. "Water water water," he intoned. "The stuff of life…and of death."

Oh, Sherlock did love the sound of his own voice. So, he was working on the case after all, thought John. He would not ask about the cat brain; why encourage the showing off when not even Lestrade was in audience? In any case, there'd soon be an exasperated explanation that would make John feel foolish even if he'd never in a million years have come to the solution on his own. But water? That he could understand. The murder victim had been found floating in a shallow pool of salt water. Drowning was not the cause of death, nor were their wounds or evidence of poison. So what was the water for? "What experiment?" John asked, unable to resist.

Sherlock flashed a quick grin of obvious self-satisfaction as he leaned against the door frame between rooms. "Given your time in Afghanistan," he deducted, "you have experience with water torture." He headed for the bathroom. "Come, John, let's test my limits," he quipped, tossing his words over his shoulder for John to catch.