John knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he got up and realised he could smell cigarette smoke. Sherlock had long since rolled out of bed leaving John and Gladstone snoring. John rolled over onto the now cold bit of the bed and yawned. A pee and a cup of tea then he’d have a think about getting some shopping. John made his way into the bathroom, he swayed gently from side to side as he emptied his bladder.
John flushed the loo and squirted some soap into his hands lathering them up. He looked at his face in the mirror. The same black bags under his eyes as always, his youth was gone. He frowned, rinsed his hands and squirted some toothpaste on his toothbrush. He lifted the brush to his mouth.
“Blugh…” John said spitting it out. His there was a sheen on his tongue and mouth felt numb. He stuck his mouth under the tap and rinsed. It was burning now. “Derlock!” John groaned loudly. Sherlock sauntered into the bathroom.
“Something wrong John?” Sherlock asked, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.
“Why did dou pud dur tradsvasin by dur toofpade?” John rinsed his toothbrush off, put some real toothpaste on it then started brushing his teeth. He looked Sherlock in the eye annoyed. Sherlock scowled at him, then turned around and walked into the kitchen.
“I’ll put the kettle on.” Sherlock shouted over his shoulder. John looked down at the tube of transvasin muscle rub, cringing. He’d actually used the transvasin last. Then he remembered, he’d left it there by the toothpaste in a rush to get back to his bed and a waiting Sherlock. John would have some serious making up to do later. John spat the toothpaste out, his mouth was feeling considerably better.
John’s mug was on the kitchen table when he finally made it out of the bathroom. He popped the kettle back on and picked up his mug. Sherlock was lying on the couch in his usual 'I’m sulking' pose.
“Listen Sherlock, I’m sorry I blamed you for the toothpaste thing. I wasn’t awake and I was a bit grumpy because you had a cigarette.” John noticed a shift in Sherlock’s shoulders.
“It’s alright John.” Sherlock turned around and looked at John curiously. “I think we have some acetone under the sink.”
“What?” John said confused. Then he tried to put his mug down to find it was attached to his had. “What the bloody hell!” Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and headed over to John.
“The handle fell off when I was making you a cup of tea, so I glued it back on.” Sherlock said running water into the washing up bowl, then adding washing up liquid to it. John rolled his eyes back in his head, wishing he’d stayed in bed. Sherlock submerged his hand in the warm soapy water and pried the mug off.
“Owe!” John moaned as he pulled his hand back out. It looked like some of his skin was still attached to the handle.
“Probably better not use the acetate on that.” Sherlock said wincing in sympathy.
“Oh you don’t say.” John replied sarcastically looking at the raw skin on his hand. Sherlock helped him to his chair.
“I’ll get some Savlon for that and make you a cup of tea.” Sherlock said helpfully. John closed his eyes and sat down.
“Owe! What the f…” He reached around behind him and pulled out the offending item. A raw beef knuckle bone, John put it on the floor beside his chair, checked for anything else and sat down. Gladstone looked up at him guiltily wagging his tail. Sherlock brought over his cup of tea and put it down carefully on the table beside him then sat quietly in his chair opposite.
“John is there anything I can do?” Sherlock said passing the tube of Savlon over. John took a big breath.
“Could you turn back time so that I never got up this morning?” Sherlock smiled at him, John didn’t return it.
John's bad day gets worse.
After half an hour or so everything felt a bit better. John got dressed and put on his new jacket. Gladstone looked up at him hopefully. John shook his head.
“Going shopping Gladstone.” He said to the puppy. Gladstone slunk off to sulk in his bed. Sherlock pulled a sheet of paper out of his notebook.
“Could you get a few things for me?” Sherlock asked John nodded looking down at the sheet of paper. Nothing unusual for a change. Some deodorant, green tea, organic honey and a new toothbrush. John grabbed his wallet nodded a goodbye to Sherlock, and walked downstairs. It was a glorious sunny day outside, and he smiled as he stepped out into the street. He would start his day again from here he thought to himself. John went to close the front door. Something wet landed on his head and dribbled down his face. He looked over at his shoulder to see bird poo.
“Oh for..” John opened the front door and trudged back up the stairs. “Sherlock? Can you help me wash my hair?” Sherlock looked up from the book he was reading to see John covered in excrement. He drew his lips together in a thin line trying not to laugh. “I think an Albatross was flying over.” John said annoyed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
“That’s statistically improbable John. Albatrosses range in the southern hemisphere from Antarctica to Australia, South Africa and South America. The exceptions to this are the four North Pacific albatrosses, of which three occur exclusively in the North Pacific, from Hawaii to Japan, California and Alaska; and one, the Waved Albatross, breeds in the Galapagos Islands and feeds off the coast of South America.” Sherlock rubbed his temple. “So I doubt it was an Albatross.” John stared at Sherlock, and took off his jacket.
“Help me wash my hair, and don’t say anything else.” John walked into the bathroom. Sherlock followed a smirk on his face.
Shopping take two John thought to himself. He had towelled his hair dry put his and old jacket on. He was going to get the shopping if it killed him. The walk to ASDA’s was fine, he hadn’t had another freak accident. He grabbed a basket at the door, tonight was Cauliflower cheese night, something to look forward too. He went around the shop picking up the ingredients, Cauliflower, cheese, milk he always made his own special cheese sauce, some cheese and leek sausages to compliment them. He was almost happy when he got to the tills.
He had a choice, self service or the slightly longer queue at the manned checkout. He made the decision not to tempt fate and made his way to the manned checkout. There was a nice little old lady in front of him with a trolley that was far too deep for her to reach into. John put his basket on the end of the till and helped her reach the last few items. She reached over to John and held his hand.
“You’re a lovely young man.” She squeezed his hand and pulled her trolley out of the way. It was at that moment John realised that his fly button was caught on the trolley.
For an old lady she was actually pretty strong. The force of her pushing the trolley away ripped his trousers and his boxers straight off.
“Oh.” The old lady said smiling. John covered his embarrassment with his hands and threw his shoulders back. He would not lose his dignity over something so small. The checkout operator glared at him, her eyes growing wide and screamed as she hit the alarm button. The siren sounded and two burly security guards ran over and tackled John to the ground. John felt the cold tile beneath him and closed his eyes.
John was escorted to the security office by the two burly guards and a tea towel. He kept his chin up as he walked past the shoppers with just a tea towel to cover himself. Once in the office John sat down on the plastic chair and cringed. He was going to have to peel himself off the seat. One of the security guards gave him a cup of weak tea.
“Uhm, sorry about that.” Said the security guard blushing. “We kind of thought you were a flasher.” John nodded concentrating on a damp spot on the wall. There was a knock at the door checkout operator appeared with John’s clothes neatly folded in a bundle. She peaked a look through the door at John who was still quietly staring at the wall and dashed off. John sipped his tea and picked up his phone.
“Sherlock, please can you bring me a pair of boxers and some jeans.” John could feel Sherlock grinning at the other end of phone. “I’m in ASDA’s security office. No, don’t bring Gladstone. Can’t you leave him with Mrs Hudson? Mycroft then? Sherlock? Sherlock? You’ve put the phone down haven’t you?” John sighed, it seemed to be the only thing he could get right today. “My friend should be here soon with my trousers. Could you please pick them up for me.”
Sherlock arrived with everything John needed ten minutes later. John shuffled into the staff toilets. Sighing as he looked at the pants Sherlock had picked up, a leather G string he had bought as a joke. John stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans as he carefully zipped them up. He didn’t want anything happening to the Crown Jewels. Sherlock smirked as he left the toilet, John chose too keep looking straight ahead.
“Did you get the shopping?” Sherlock asked only to be glared at by John.
“Where’s Gladstone?” John asked looking for the puppy.
“Next door with Mrs Turner.” John looked relived, if anything happened to Gladstone today he would play holy hell. A security officer touched John’s arm.
“Sir, the lady who was at the tills with you asked me to give you this.” He handed John a receipt with a telephone number on.
“I’m assuming this wasn’t the checkout operator.” John asked wearily the security guard cleared his throat.
“No Sir, Mrs Peacock. She’s just getting onto her mobility scooter in the foyer if you’d like a word.” The security guard burst out laughing. Sherlock stared at him with cold steal blue eyes.
“Would you like me to tell your supervisor that you’ve been drinking the stock of Strongbow in the warehouse while on duty? Or would you like to apologise to my friend and make a mends?” The security guard stood for a moment his mouth a gape.
“How did you know that?” The security guard asked as Sherlock frowned at him.
John left with £200 of gift vouchers in his wallet, but it didn’t seem to make him feel any better. He hadn’t gone back to get the shopping, and all he wanted to do now was curl up into a ball and die. Sherlock walked quietly next to him.
“Do you need a hug?” Sherlock whispered. John didn’t say anything as he turned around and pulled Sherlock into a hug. Sherlock gently pulled his coat around John. “It’s alright John.” John rested his head on Sherlock’s collar bone and took a deep breath.
“I know, I’m just having a bad day. I just exposed myself to most of the customers of ASDA.” Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head.
“I’m going to have to fight for your chastity now you know.” Sherlock said squeezing John to him. John giggled, and looked up at Sherlock his eyes bloodshot.
“I love you, you know.” John said, Sherlock nodded and kissed the end of John’s nose.
John's bad day ends. Thank goodness.
Sorry this is a bit late it took 5 hours for it to get through cyberspace to my home inbox.
John felt a sudden shift in Sherlock’s demeanour. His shoulders slumped and the arms wrapped around John seemed to be gripping for dear lift.
“Sherlock?” John said panic evident in his voice. Sherlock flopped in his arms, as John held him up. Sherlock’s faint was miniscule and seemed to dissipate within a few seconds. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open searching for his John. “Sherlock for god sake when was the last time you ate?”
“What day is it?” Sherlock asked steadying himself against John’s shoulder.
“Tuesday.” John replied feeling frustrated with himself for not watching Sherlock more closely.
“I think we’d better go home and eat.” Sherlock put his arm around John’s waist and took a step forward. John nodded pulling Sherlock closer to him and taking his weight.
The trip home took longer than usual, Sherlock’s limbs did not seem to want to co-ordinate properly. When they did finally make it back to Baker Street John practically carried Sherlock up the stairs. John settled him down on the sofa and went into the kitchen. There was a round of cold toast on a plate.
“Were you about to eat when I called?” John asked watching Sherlock lie down and curl up on his side on the sofa.
“Yes.” Sherlock replied manoeuvring a cushion under his head. John rubbed his temples, another thing that had gone wrong. He popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.
“You should have said.” John put the kettle on to make a cup of tea. “You’ll feel better once we’ve got some food into you.” John opened the fridge to get out the milk and find his secret stash of strawberry jam.
Once Sherlock’s snack was ready he made his way over to the sofa and put them on the coffee table. Sherlock looked up at him lethargic, as he pulled him into a sitting position.
“Now eat your toast, and then I’ll go and pick Gladstone up.” John said putting his arm around Sherlock steadying him. Sherlock took a little bite of the jammy goodness John had made for him, and hummed in satisfaction.
“This is amazing jam John.” He said with a mouthful of toast. John wiped a bit of jam from the corner of Sherlock’s mouth and licked his finger. Sherlock smiled, he had started to look better already.
“Are you going to be ok on your own for a minute Sherlock? I’m going to pop next door and pick Gladstone up.” John said brushing an errant curl out of Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock nodded in response a mouthful of toast and tea taking precedence over speaking to John.
Gladstone jumped up on John the moment he appeared at Mrs Turner’s door. Gladstone must have thought he was being abandoned again. John picked him up and ruffled his fur. Gladstone sniffed him making sure he was still them same, and then just to make doubly sure he licked the inside of his dad’s ear.
“Urg.. Stop it Gladstone that tickles!” Gladstone panted, over exited his eyes bulging out of his head. John walked around to the flat still carrying Gladstone and put his key in the door. He twisted to open it, the key snapped off in his hand.
“OH FOR FUCK SAKE!” He shouted as passers by stared. He pressed the door bell for his flat. “Sherlock Holmes get down here right now and let me bloody in.” John put Gladstone down on the pavement, pulled out his phone and called Sherlock.
“Hello Sherlock Holmes.” A deep baritone voice said.
“Let me into the bloody flat!” John screamed.
“I’m not here at the moment, so if you want to speak to me call me when I am.” The answering service finished. John gritted his teeth. One thing John hated was answering machine’s that sounded like they were talking to you. He banged on the door.
“Sherlock open the fucking door or I will take an axe to your skull!” John shouted through the letter box. Sherlock opened the door out of breath. “What took you so long?” John asked, Sherlock looked annoyed.
“I was on my way down when some idiot called my mobile.” Sherlock replied holding the doorframe to steady himself.
“Oh…” John looked down at his feet. “Sorry. Got Gladstone back though.”
“Call a locksmith John. Don’t want Mrs Hudson to be locked out.” Sherlock huffed and passed John his phone.
John looked down at Gladstone who was rubbing himself against Sherlock’s trouser leg. Sherlock bent down and picked Gladstone up. He was treated to a full neck wash. Sherlock cringed.
The locksmith fixed the lock within the hour that day. John sat reading his paper as his stomach rumbled. It would have to be take away tonight.
“What do you fancy for tea then Sherlock?” John asked trying to make up for his little outburst earlier. Sherlock was drinking another cup of tea and contemplating his answer. “I quite fancy fish and chips, we haven’t had those for a while.” John suggested. Sherlock put his feet up on the sofa relaxing as he flicked the channels on the TV.
“I’ll have a piece of Plaice please John.” Sherlock mumbled. John chewed his lip worrying that something else would happen if he went alone.
“You’re not coming then?” He asked. Sherlock shook his head. John sighed and put his jacket on and hoped to god he wouldn’t get run over. Gladstone jumped up on the sofa and settled on Sherlock’s stomach.
“Get me a sausage in batter too.” Sherlock shouted as John made his way down the stairs. John rolled his eyes, he had the most spoilt puppy in the world.
The trip to the chip shop went well he didn’t get run over and no one tried to mug him. He’d even managed to get served quickly and they had both Sherlock’s Plaice and his cod ready. John put everything into a plastic carrier bag he kept in his pocket, and hoped that nothing would become of him on the way back. He looked out the chip shop window and saw that it was starting to rain. He pulled the collar of his jacket up, he could handle a bit of rain.
It wasn’t until he was just around the corner from the flat that the heavens opened. He made a quick dash toward the front door and went skidding straight past it landing on his back. The bag of food landed on his head, a few rogue chips landing like raindrops around him. John lay there silently.
Sherlock looked out of the window, John had been quite some time. He spotted John lying on the pavement after doing a double take. Sherlock raised his eyebrows confused and made his way downstairs.
“John?” He asked, peaking out into the street. John was obviously ok, he could see him breathing and the dinner was fine apart from a few stray chips. “John?” He said again, there was still no response. Sherlock picked the bag of fish and chips up off John’s head. John was smiling manically. “Ah..” Sherlock pulled John up and got him into a fireman’s lift. John continued smiling, as he was carried unceremoniously into the house. Sherlock managed to carry John and the dinner up the stairs, and sat John down in his chair. He started to take off John’s wet clothes.
“John? It’s just a bad day. There’s no need to be like this.” John remained unfazed as Sherlock undid his flies. A practically nude John sat in his chair as Sherlock tried to get his pyjama bottoms on. “Please John.” Sherlock begged, hoping he could at least hear him. John stared at a random spot on the wall. Sherlock carried him to bed pulled the covers over him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “It will be a better day tomorrow John I promise.” Sherlock closed the door and looked at the bag of food on the table.
Sherlock was feeling quite full after eating a piece of battered place, battered cod, a large chips and a mush pea fritter. Gladstone lay on his back on the floor looking worse for wear after eating a jumbo sausage in batter and a handful of chips. Definitely time for bed Sherlock thought to himself. He carried Gladstone into the bedroom and popped him down on the end of the bed.
Sherlock turned on the bedside lamp and looked at John, his eyes were closed now. Hopefully he was getting some well deserved restful sleep. Sherlock undid his shirt, folded it up on the chair kicked off his trousers and boxers off and climbed into bed. He had a feeling the cord on his pyjama bottoms was going to dig in his bloated stomach. Sherlock crept toward John, spooning against him. John let out a quiet moan in response. Sherlock gently kissed the back of John’s neck.
“Definitely not a bad day after all.” John said turning around in Sherlock’s arms.