Written for @sherlockchallenge prompt for July - On the Tube
“And it has backfired spectacularly – a slip of his tongue, which has raised Sherlock’s hackles and rendered the whole lot of Yarders tongue-tied and wide-eyed. The only advantage of this has been Anderson looking ill.”
The man seated next to him didn’t answer. Since they have boarded the Tube, Sherlock has lapsed into a sullen silence and showed no sign of coming out of his sulk. John sighed. He really couldn’t blame his friend – he would have done the same in his stead.
Or rather he would have exploded as soon as they have left the crime scene, ranting at Sherlock until being left out of breath.
In the end, he thought, I would have gone shopping at Tesco, still huffing and puffing, and I’d have forgotten this…incident the next day.
He sagged a little further into his plastic seat. Fortunately for him, who didn’t like the crowded, cramped places since Afghanistan and Sherlock’s mood, there were only a few people besides them in the carriage – a group of teenagers obviously playing truant and an old couple bickering over who was going to prepare what for supper.
“You’re so stubborn, Harold!” “Pot kettle, Martha.”
John couldn’t help but smile at this scene. They were reminding him of Sherlock and him – at least when his friend wasn’t doing his best to impersonate Mister-Warning-I’ll-bite-you-if-you-come-closer.
He glanced at Sherlock’s closed-off face.
Time for a second attempt. He waited for the train’s next stop – “Notting Hill Gate. Please mind the gap” – before repeating in a more pleading tone “Sher…”
The rest was lost in his throat when the train moved off again with a rush. John found himself being jostled directly towards Sherlock. He caught hold of the backrest just in time to stop himself from colliding with his friend.
Great. Just what I needed.
“Hum… Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay, John. I knew you didn’t mean anything by that.”