This is my first fic ever, so reviews are very much appreciated. Should I continue with this story? Please let me know.
"Watson. Watson. Watson. Watson!"
Watson ignored the constant bark of his name from the other side of the room that had woken him so abruptly, and continued to try to ignore Holmes and go back to sleep.
"Watson! Watson! Watson, look! Wake up!"
Holmes was upon him them, shaking the doctor's shoulders roughly and causing Watson to flail about like some kind of moustached rag doll. He made a frustrated noise and gave up, cursing himself for doing so, and opened his eyes.
Holmes looked positively gleeful. He grinned widely, stepping back from the sofa where Watson lay awkwardly and flung his left arm out to the side, indicating to something on a nearby table.
"Look what i have created." he spoke proudly, chest out, chin up.
Watson peered blearily over to the table, sitting himself up in the process. What he saw perplexed him greatly. He didn't quite know how to react.
The object was shapeless, and it looked to be made of old boxing tickets and lollipop sticks glued together near a jam jar that appeared to have a rather large house spider in it. Watson tried to look impressed but Holmes noticed immediately the beyond confused look on his partner's face.
"You don't know what it is, do you?" he said quietly, proud arm falling back to his side.
"Oh, Holmes! Of course i know what it is." insisted Watson, completely uselessly.
"Go on." Sherlock folded his arms and raised his eyebrows directly at him.
Watson knew had to be careful. Holmes had been increasingly irate of late due to lack of cases, and was irritable and angry on most occasions. The way he grinned at the creation of this object had been the first time Watson had seen him smile in some time. It was a shame that Watson already had appeared to ruin his good mood. Why couldn't he have just acted amazed by it, admitted that he didn't know what it was and let Holmes talk him through it? Why did he have to lie and say he knew what it was? For the second time since he woke up, Watson cursed himself.
"It's...Oh, for God's sake Holmes, I have no idea." The words came out of him in a breath and he closed his eyes hard, pinching the bridge of his nose.
When he opened his eyes, Holmes was glaring at him. Watson knew that glare well and it infuriated him. "Oh, stop it, old boy. You seriously expect me to know what that is?" he flapped his arm in the direction of the table, "It's ridiculous!"
Holmes frowned, nodded curtly, grabbed the nearest newspaper and sat himself down on his armchair pointedly; all without ever breaking eyecontact with the doctor. He then sighed, and immersed himself sulkily in reading.
Watson stood there, dumbfounded.
"Holmes." he said. Not even a flicker of recognition. "Holmes. Holmes. Holmes." Watson shook his head and looked towards the ceiling frustratedly, "Holmes,
come on. There's no need to be like that. Look," he gave a sigh and stepped towards his seated partner who still refused to look at him, forcing words from matter-of-factly from his mouth as if they were rehearsed, "If you could explain to me what it is, I am sure I would share in your happiness, which i would like very much."
Watson looked down at Holmes with a comforting smile, waiting for his eyes to meet his. He could see him falter in his thoughts, and the doctor reached out and lightly folded the newspaper away from his friend's hands. Holmes looked at him then and narrowed his eyes mock-spitefully. Watson was glad that it was simply mock spite.
Holmes stood up, pushed Watson a few steps back from the chair and stood beside the table. He coughed theatrically. Watson was eager for Sherlock to finish his ego polishing for the day.
"This...Is my Spider's Nest," He concluded with gravitas, as if it was the most impressive thing he could have uttered. Watson stared at him blankly. Holmes continued, grinning excitedly and pointing things out on his bizarre creation, "I'm going to grow a nest of spiders from this female giant house spider I found under your hat this morning," Watson looked sick at the idea, "She's pregnant, she will lay eggs in the jar, they will hatch, climb out of the little holes i have stabbed into the lid and crawl their arachnid way onto the pile of sticky ticketstubs I have pasted and doused with various fragrances and pheramones and things I found in your medicine bag and remain there. We will have a positive infestation on our hands!" Holmes positively beamed at the prospect.
Watson blinked. He couldn't comprehend how this could possibly be considered good news. He looked at Holmes, who's tell-tale face boasted the sweat of intoxication and the unkempt hair of a buffoon, his clothes rumpled and buttoned incorrectly, he looked at this man, and gave a hefty, disbelieving shrug.
Sherlock frowned again.
"Holmes, there is no doubt that what you have done is...," He chose his words carefully, "... genius, but don't you think it would be suited more to a zoo than OUR FRONT ROOM?" he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air.
"You have no respect for me or my creations, Watson, and this saddens me."
"Oh for God's sake," Watson hissed, "I respect you wholeheartedly, you know i do, I just would not necessarily appreciate our rooms becoming infested with spiders!"
"If you created something I would encourage you and congratulate you."
"I'm sure you would, if it was something worthwhile, not something encouraging the population growth of insects-"
"-Arachnids, thank you." Watson caught himself, "- Not something that encourages the population growth of arachnids within our home!"
Holmes narrowed his eyes at Watson seriously this time.
"You lack vision, Watson."
"I wish i did!" the doctor laughed, shaking his head, "Then i wouldn't be able to see that bloody thing."
Watson saw the change in him immediately. Holmes inhaled quickly through his nose, drew himself up, straightened the lapels on his jacket and marched directly past Watson towards the door. Watson wheeled round.
"Where are you going?"
Watson nearly fell over.
"You're going out? Why? Do we have a case?"
"No. I'm just going out." Holmes pulled his coat on and reached for the doorhandle.
"Oh, you're not sulking, are you?"
"You're sulking!" Holmes yelped as he slammed the door behind him. "Oh, do get out of the way, Nanny!" Watson heard a muffled cry as Sherlock stomped down the stairs. The doctor shook his head. He was going to have to deal with him later.