Sherlock's phone rang. The consulting detective played a few notes on his violin. His phone rang again. He turned away from the sound and faced the window. A third ring. John Watson slammed down his newspaper in frustration.
"Are you going to get that?"
"No."
"Why the hell not? It's obviously important, this is the fourth time it's rung in five minutes. It could be Lestrade! It could be a case, get you out of this boredom you've been suffering ever since that explosion!"
Sherlock swung away from the window, his sightless eyes glaring irritably at the space above John's left shoulder. "Or it could be my brother, calling me with another are-you-all-right and an offer to use half the treasury to get me surgery." With a swoop, he once more drew his bow across the strings, and John, who at this point was nearly violin-immune, had to cringe at the ferocity of the ill-pitched note. "Besides," Sherlock added, plopping petulantly into his armchair, "It wouldn't be Lestrade, he knows I prefer to text."
John gaped at the blind man. "You prefer to-- you--" He punched the arm of the chair. "DAMMIT SHERLOCK!" In two steps, he crossed the room, snatching up the phone, but by the time he'd picked it up, it had finished ringing. He sighed.
"Oh, don't be so upset," came the low, infuriating chuckle. "If it's anyone worth paying attention to or Mycroft, they'll call /you/ next."
Sure enough, John's phone started ringing two seconds later. It was Lestrade. Knowing he'd never get Sherlock to willingly talk on the phone, he put the speaker on and let Lestrade describe the details of the case to both of them.
"Brilliant," Sherlock replied as soon as he had the details, childish delight playing across his lips. "We'll be there as soon as we can." Without waiting for Lestrade's reply, he hung up and crossed towards the door. He tripped over a loose edge of the carpet, and John had to steady him.
"We? I have a date with that girl from the library."
"She's a closeted lesbian. Besides, I need my eyes."
"They're in the cabinet above the sink, I think."
"Don't be ridiculous, you know what I mean." He grabbed John's arm with one hand and made for the door, grabbing for his coat in completely the wrong direction. Not that he knew this of course -- John grabbed it and handed it off to him so smoothly that even Sherlock Holmes couldn't tell. Or perhaps he was just so intent on making sure John didn't run away that he didn't pay proper attention to his surroundings; a theory heavily supported by his tumbling down the steps several seconds later, pulling John with him. Neither was badly hurt, but it was painful to both of them how much Sherlock had lost his former grace since their last case -- not that either of them would ever admit it.
"You are the worst pair of eyes I've ever had," Sherlock said, breaking the tension.
"That means a lot coming from someone who puts them in the microwave," John replied with a straight face. For a moment they kept their composure, and then Sherlock giggled and no force on Earth could keep the smile off the doctor's face.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Sherlock's Eyes
Date: 2012-02-26 03:48 pm (UTC)"Are you going to get that?"
"No."
"Why the hell not? It's obviously important, this is the fourth time it's rung in five minutes. It could be Lestrade! It could be a case, get you out of this boredom you've been suffering ever since that explosion!"
Sherlock swung away from the window, his sightless eyes glaring irritably at the space above John's left shoulder. "Or it could be my brother, calling me with another are-you-all-right and an offer to use half the treasury to get me surgery." With a swoop, he once more drew his bow across the strings, and John, who at this point was nearly violin-immune, had to cringe at the ferocity of the ill-pitched note. "Besides," Sherlock added, plopping petulantly into his armchair, "It wouldn't be Lestrade, he knows I prefer to text."
John gaped at the blind man. "You prefer to-- you--" He punched the arm of the chair. "DAMMIT SHERLOCK!" In two steps, he crossed the room, snatching up the phone, but by the time he'd picked it up, it had finished ringing. He sighed.
"Oh, don't be so upset," came the low, infuriating chuckle. "If it's anyone worth paying attention to or Mycroft, they'll call /you/ next."
Sure enough, John's phone started ringing two seconds later. It was Lestrade. Knowing he'd never get Sherlock to willingly talk on the phone, he put the speaker on and let Lestrade describe the details of the case to both of them.
"Brilliant," Sherlock replied as soon as he had the details, childish delight playing across his lips. "We'll be there as soon as we can." Without waiting for Lestrade's reply, he hung up and crossed towards the door. He tripped over a loose edge of the carpet, and John had to steady him.
"We? I have a date with that girl from the library."
"She's a closeted lesbian. Besides, I need my eyes."
"They're in the cabinet above the sink, I think."
"Don't be ridiculous, you know what I mean." He grabbed John's arm with one hand and made for the door, grabbing for his coat in completely the wrong direction. Not that he knew this of course -- John grabbed it and handed it off to him so smoothly that even Sherlock Holmes couldn't tell. Or perhaps he was just so intent on making sure John didn't run away that he didn't pay proper attention to his surroundings; a theory heavily supported by his tumbling down the steps several seconds later, pulling John with him. Neither was badly hurt, but it was painful to both of them how much Sherlock had lost his former grace since their last case -- not that either of them would ever admit it.
"You are the worst pair of eyes I've ever had," Sherlock said, breaking the tension.
"That means a lot coming from someone who puts them in the microwave," John replied with a straight face. For a moment they kept their composure, and then Sherlock giggled and no force on Earth could keep the smile off the doctor's face.