I'm bored. -SH
Doctor John Watson sighed at his desk. He had only been at work for an hour before Sherlock texted him, setting a new record at how quickly he could get bored. John rolled his eyes before sending his reply.
I can't entertain you ALL the time, Sherlock. -JW
His response came mere seconds later.
Don't roll your eyes at me, John. It's distracting. -SH
"How does he bloody do that?" John exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in slight irritation. Was he that predictable?
It's what normal people do, sometimes. You should try it sometime. -JW
Dull. Normal is boring. -SH
"Maybe it would keep you out of trouble." John frowned. He kept that comment to himself, knowing that his companion would have a rant waiting for him as soon as he said it.
Speaking of normal, you should probably get some sleep. You haven't slept since you started that new experiment with the milk. -JW
I can't sleep now, don't be ridiculous. I'm in the middle of an important stage and I've just started my patches. There's no time for sleep. -SH
"I swear, my eyes are going to roll into the back of my head and get stuck." The doctor, once again, rolled his eyes at the screen of his phone.
You can't keep overdosing on nicotine patches! As your doctor, I will remind you how awful that is for your health. -JW
Ah, so that's what you keep harping about. I stop paying attention when your face starts twitching. -SH
John felt his face twitch now. You don't listen to me either way. -JW
And on that note, I'll take my mindless and irrelevant chatter and get back to work. You're clearly occupied. -JW
John tossed his phone onto his desk with a huff and buzzed the reception desk to see if he had any patients to attend to. He received another text when Ms. Wellington hobbled in on her cane and sat down in the designated chair. She seemed to be doing much better after she'd broken her ankle six weeks ago and soon he forgot all about Sherlock's unread text. Twenty minutes later, Ms. Wellington left and John finally picked up his phone to read the glowing letters as he buzzed reception again.
I'm glad you noticed. I'm rather distracted. I've been thinking about the offer Mycroft gave you when he abducted you the first time. Do you think it's still an open offer? -SH
John seethed and rapidly tapped out his reply. His fingers, now used to texting his flatmate all the time, were almost a blur as he ranted to the detective.
What? I don't know and I don't want your brother's dirty money! In fact, I don't want ANYTHING that Mycroft has to offer. He can take his government money and piss off. -JW He already had to deal with one Holmes brother, he didn't want to even think of the other. It would only irritate him further.
After a mother of two left, taking both of her screaming children left, did he look at his messages again.
Hm, yes. Well, knowing him, he's probably spent that money on cake. Nevertheless, your reaction has interested me. Why such hostility? -SH
It's not hostility, it's irritation, and despite the fact that I'm not Mycroft's biggest fan I don't go out of my way to tease him. And just why is my reaction so interesting? -JW
I will do no such thing! It's his own fault for getting pudgy. You're reaction was curious due to the burst of agitation. Is there someone else you want money from? No. Not money. Companionship? Sexual relations? -SH
John gaped at his phone and blushed heavily. "Absolutely ludicrous!" He snarled and went to buzz his intercom once more when he realized that he had no more patients that afternoon. He decided that he would return his missed calls, blood results, and other busy work he wouldn't want to do tomorrow morning.
After he'd calmed down enough to start his call-backs, he fired away another text.
Sherlock! No deducing via text messaging! I don't care HOW bored you are, I am NOT an experiment! -JW
I have been analyzing and deducing you since you walked into the lab at Bart's. Surely, you've gotten over it by now. You do spout praises to my intellect like a fountain. Now, you've avoided the question, therefore it was that in which you wanted. What do you want, John? -SH
John swallowed and thought for a minute. It was no surprise that he loved Sherlock. Had fallen in love with him. However, he wasn't ready to admit it to anyone else, especially Sherlock. The man's work was his life and nothing could come between that and that brilliant mind of his. No, John would continue to date as many women as he could find to try and help him forget about his feelings for his friend, Sherlock Holmes.
Just because I admire your genius it doesn't mean that I want you to know every minute detail. Some things I want to keep private, you great prat. -JW
Satisfied with his answer, he made another phone call, scheduling an appointment with Mr. Hainsworth to discuss options for his high blood pressure. Within that time frame, Sherlock's boredom seemed to have come to a halt and John was thankful for the time of peace. But it was short-lived as his phone chimed.
Ah, you taking on such a defense on my deductions is rather conclusive. You said you "admire", when I only mentioned that you "praise" me. Therefore, you are attracted to me and want to sleep with me. -SH
John spewed out his tea all over his desk and coughed up whatever he'd mistakenly inhaled into his lungs. Christ, Sherlock wasn't playing around, was he?
I do NOT want to sleep with you, Sherlock Holmes! How many times do I have to say it? I'm. Not. Gay! -JW
He was about to turn his phone off when his colleague texted, yet again.
Telltale signs of denial. You just blatantly stated that you admire me. Why bother hiding it? You're being obvious. -SH
Just because I find you amazing, doesn't mean I want in your pants. -JW Your genius! I find your GENIUS amazing! -JW I meant, not you. I find your genius amazing. Not that I'm saying you're not, 'cause you are. Just that...I'm going to shut up now... -JW
Your genius! I find your GENIUS amazing! -JW
I meant, not you. I find your genius amazing. Not that I'm saying you're not, 'cause you are. Just that...I'm going to shut up now... -JW
John knocked his head against his desk. Several times. Hard. Hard enough where he was pretty sure he was going to be red and bruised tomorrow morning. He almost didn't look at Sherlock's reply.
There now, you see? Truth from your very mouth. I'm flattered that you find me and my intelligence amazing, but I will have to refuse you. -SH
What? Why?! Not that I'm interested. 'Cause I'm not. -JW
Like I previously stated the night you shot that awful cabbie, I'm married to my work. -SH
John's stomach dropped. He cursed himself for letting him feel disappointed. Why did he think that would have changed over the years that he knew him? Sherlock Holmes was dedicated to his mind and how it works. Not even as his best mate would Sherlock bend on the subject of emotions. He hardly had or expressed any of them.
Oh, right. yes, of course. Well then, that's that, as they say. -JW
John began to pack up his his things to go home. The few patients that he'd seen had been more than enough for him. Between them and Sherlock, he was ready to head back to the flat for a hot cup of tea and a book before bed.
The cab ride seemed longer than it really was. He thought about going to the nearest Tesco to pick up a few more things but he dismissed the idea. He'd rather do it tomorrow when he didn't feel like death rolled over him. When he got to Baker Street, he quickly made his way up the stairs and into the flat before stopping in the kitchen to make himself a quick cuppa. He was hoping to avoid the consulting detective but his hopes were squashed when a mop of dark curls walked into the living room.
"What are you sulking about?"
John could have screamed and thrown his favorite mug at the git's head but he reigned in his temper. "I'm not sulking. I'm tired."
Watson felt eyes boring into his head and he sighed. "Really, Sherlock, you're overanalyzing. Drop it."
"You don't overanalyze the truth." Sherlock followed him upstairs after he finished his tea and left the cup in the sink to wash in the morning. He knew it would be more tedious to do then but John couldn't care less at the moment.
After crawling into bed with his clothes of the day still on, John glared at his flatmate. "I told you to drop it."
He was surprised when Sherlock jumped into his bed and sat against the headboard. "I'm neither leaving, nor am I going to 'drop it', as you said."
"Fine," John yawned, "stay here, then. I'm going to sleep." With that, Doctor John Watson rolled over and fell asleep.