My 28th fanfic, my 1st published Sherlock one, with a twist.
This will be a series of one shots based on prompts.
So please send all and any ideas you have because I'm relying on you guys for requests!
Chapter 1: Sherlock is deathly afraid of spiders
John slowly put down his coat and glanced over at his flatmate, "... I'm sorry, what?"
Sherlock didn't avert his gaze, nor move his head from his hands as he repeated, "Kill. Her".
The doctor stared at him, "... Kill her? Kill who? Dammit Sherlock, I put up with the disembodied fingers in the pickle jar, I say nothing about the eyes floating in the sink, and I completely ignore the fact that we have a severed head in our fridge... But that does not mean that I will kill some innocent woman for you!"
"No, not a woman, you idiot" He snapped, "The spider. Kill the spider!"
"... The spider?"
"Yes, the spider. What else?"
John frowned, "A spider? You want me to kill... A spider?"
The younger Holmes sighed, and looked over at his companion for the first time, "I want you to kill a spider, Watson. It's not murder".
"Well, technically, it-"
"John!" He snapped, and if it was anybody else, John would swear they where whining, "I want you to kill the spider. And kill it now!"
"Well, where is it? I don't see any spider".
Sherlock gave an over-dramatic sigh, and pointed to the ceiling, "Over there in the top right-hand corner. She's huge, you can't miss her".
"How are you so sure it's a 'she'?" He muttered, dragging over a kitchen chair, but, of course, Sherlock heard him anyway.
"Really John? How can you not tell? The last segment of her pedipalps is smaller, first of all, yet she is distinctly larger than her male counterpart. After that, there's the case of-"
"Alright, Sherlock, it's ok, I don't need to know" He interrupted, fetching a glass from the kitchen, "But why do I have to kill it?"
"Her. The spider is female, John. Not an 'it'. We've already established this".
The retired soldier sighed, "Oh, of course. How could I forget?"
"I get the distinct impression that you're mocking me".
He smirked, "And I wonder why that is..."
Standing up on the chair, he quickly forgot his earlier question, and instead slowly raised the glass up to the ceiling, only to catch a web on the way there which sent the spider spinning around in circles.
And from behind him, came the most unmanly sound he had ever heard.
Pausing for a minute, he heard nothing more, and shook his head, dismissing it, before reaching up for the spider again, only for it to dangle down a few more inches from the ceiling.
And yet again there came the high-pitched cry from behind him.
Except this time, he couldn't ignore it.
John spun around to face the detective, "Did you just squeal?"
"Squeal? Me? Never!" Sherlock shot back.
The doctor narrowed his eyes at him, "... You seriously just squealed, didn't you?"
The man in question actually jumped slightly, and sharply looked up at him.
And that's when John knew.
He stared at him, "... You're afraid of the spider".
"What?!" Sherlock exclaimed, "The world's finest consulting detective? Afraid? Of a spider?!"
"You're the world's only consulting detective. And all the signs are there, Holmes... Pale skin... Slightly sweating... Nervous fidgeting... Avoiding eye contact... You're scared".
"No I'm not".
"Do I need to call Mycroft?"
His eyes snapped up to the ex-soldiers, "... You wouldn't dare".
"Oh, believe me, I would".
"Just kill the spider, John" He growled, but the doctor refused to let the matter go, "No. If you're not scared of it, then prove it".
"I am not scared!"
"Then kill it yourself!" He yelled, tossing him the glass.
The detective glared, picking it up as he stood, "Fine. I will".
Walking over to corner, he reached up to catch it.
And, of course, he's tall enough to reach it WITHOUT the chair, John thought bitterly, watching as he slowly raised the glass closer to the spider, before suddenly freezing as it moved.
The 8-legged creature dangled down a bit further, and Sherlock hesitated, taking a small step backwards.
Then the spider slowly dropped down, and landed on his hand.
Staring at him for a minute, the doctor frowned, "... Did you just admit to being afraid of something? The great Sherlock Holmes? Of an insect, no less?"
"It's a bloody arachnid and you know it!" He snapped, eyes still resolutely focused on the spider on his hand, "An insect, honestly John, at least try to act like you have a brain!"
The blonde huffed and folded his arms across his chest, "Well you can just go and catch it yourself with that attitude".
"Yes Sherlock?" He replied, and the detective swallowed thickly, "Get it off of me".
Sighing, the ex-soldier stepped forwards, managing to catch the tiny beast in his hands, before quickly walking over to the window and throwing her out.
Turning back around to face his flatmate, he found that he still hadn't moved an inch.
John smirked, "Definitely not scared of spiders, then?"
Sherlock glared, "Shut up".