Monday: Cold Turkey Sandwich

[deanlives.livejournal.com]

Happy Monday to Everyone.  Our lucky theme for the day is Cold Turkey Sandwich.  Where someone eats or makes turkey sandwich.


As always, please remember our rules:


~Please don’t prompt more than 5 prompts in a row or over 3 prompts per fandom in a row. Once someone has answered your prompt, you may prompt again.

~Don't include spoilers in your prompt until at the very least one week after the original airing date or publication date. If there are spoilers in your fic, you must warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces before your story begins.

~Thank your writers, it's only kind and we all thrive on feedback.

 
Please lets keep our code monkeys happy by making sure your codes are right.

Fandom, Pairing, Prompt

Supernatural, Sam/Dean,  Sam makes Dean a cold turkey sandwich out of leftovers.

OR

Fandom1/ Fandom 2, Character 1/ Character 2, Prompt

Supernatural/White Collar, Dean/Neal, Plays pool and the winner gets the turkey sandwich.

[theme tag=cold turkey sandwich]

Happy Prompting Everyone!

Comments

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Sherlock, John/Sherlock, "Care for a sandwich? I'd certainly like one. If only I could get at the ingredients in the fridge without reaching around a severed head"

The Study of a Fridge

[tigerist.livejournal.com]

John had enough. He could stand the shooting and bullet holes in the walls (he had been in the Afghanistan, after all), Sherlock calling him from the other part of the city only to have him pass a phone laying three feet away, the violin (one of his mates from the military used to play the guitar quite often, apparently being under the impression that he was good at it, and John didn’t think Sherlock’s impromptu concerts could ever get worse, really), his complete lack of tact and the way he always managed to ruin every single one of John’s attempts at having a social circle that would consist from someone other that high-functioning sociopaths, their brothers, and policemen. So, all in all, he thought he had full right to consider himself a very easygoing, flexible and amenable flatmate.

But even his patience wasn’t infinite. And this thing? This was the proverbial last straw.

“Sherlock.”

Silence.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock was still under the table, apparently looking for something. John couldn’t know for sure, of course; Sherlock refused to tell him what exactly he was doing under that table. John was just about to open his mouth and call him again, when Sherlock cut in, his voice indicating that he was mildly irritated. “Really, John, I have heard you the first two times. No need to call me again. I will get back to you when I have the time.”
John counted to ten. Then to twenty. Still didn’t help.
“Sherlock,” he said, trying to keep his tone level. “What was this sandwich you asked me for? Turkey?”

“Oh, yes, turkey,” Sherlock muttered from under the table. “Do we have turkey? I thought I remembered you saying we ran out of it.”

“That was last week. I re-stocked on Saturday.”

“Oh. So we can have turkey sandwiches. Great. I’ll have mine without the mayo; that new brand you’re buying is simply disgusting.”

“Well, you can make it however you want. I’d like the mayo, though. And some garlic, while you’ll at it.”

That got Sherlock’s attention. “Make it?” he asked, frowning, his head sticking from under the table. “Garlic? What do you mean?”

“I told you before. You want a sandwich? No problem, I can make you one, if only I could get at the ingredients in the fridge without reaching around a severed head.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Really, John, I’d never peg you for such a petty man.”

“Well, this petty man thinks keeping a severed head in one’s fridge is highly unhygienic and is going to have his sandwich at the local sandwich store. If you want a sandwich too, you have to make it yourself. If anything happens – and I mean a real emergency – I have my phone on me,” John said calmly. Turning around, he shrugged his jacket on and left the room.

“John!”

“I warned you, Sherlock,” John called, closing the door behind him.

____________

He came back some two hours later, bringing Sherlock’s favorite sandwich and tea with him. Their apartment was empty. There was, however, a note waiting for him on his laptop.

I moved the head.
SH

P.S. There’s no lettuce left

John smiled, heading for the fridge. Opening it, he looked inside, checking what else needed to be bought, and relishing in the severed-head-free space. He briefly wondered what Sherlock did with the head. Did he go to leave it at Molly’s morgue?

When he reached to the freezer to check if they still had those ice-cream Sherlock liked to have with his evening tea, he discovered that no, Sherlock didn’t take the head to Molly. It was in the freezer, right next to his vanilla ice-cream.

Well. It was time good as any to start including Sherlock in the grocery shopping.

Re: The Study of a Fridge

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

*giggle-snort* You're brilliant, Sherlock, but sometimes you are SO dense. ♥♥♥ That's like telling a kid to throw away the trash in his room. He takes everything & shoves it under the bed. Thaaaaaat's not what we meant, kid. XD

Thank you so much, my dear. :)

Re: The Study of a Fridge

[tigerist.livejournal.com]

glad you liked it! :) and yes, Sherlock really is brilliant, but there are things he just doesn't get :D