One thing about Sherlock Holmes that many people did not realize was that he was borderline obsessive compulsive when it came to collecting stuff. Walking into his flat, you might assume he had just articulated random things without much thought. But there was organization to the chaos that John had slowly learned with time. What might look like a box filled with broken plates, were really all made from one small company in the backwaters of Barcelona that had all been used, at one time or another, by women names Georgia. The collection of envelopes shoved between Wormstans Collection of Medicinal Roots and Barroster’s Guide to the Galaxy were all written by left handed people. The bin of miscellanesous items under the far window were all found in the park Sherlock frequented as a child.
Everything had a purpose and John had long lost count of how many ‘collections’ Sherlock really had. He’d stopped asking too. At some point he’d just begun figuring them out on his own. His own secret game. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock was aware of this or not (though he most likely did) but every week John would wander around the apartment and find the new little collections and try and find the pattern therein. The world’s only Consuklting Sherlock Detective. And yes, he did invent the position.
But still, in the end, some collections were just too puzzling. He was determined to decide why Sherlock had thousands of snippets of yarn strewn all over the place. He felt like the answer was on the tip of his tongue, not yet attainable. He’d get it, yet. But some were just too much, too surprising and something he wanted to know more than he wanted to figure out.
“Sherlock, why, exactly, do we suddenly own every season of Doctor Who?” The question was blurted out in a fit of surprise upon coming home to find the DVDs neatly tucked on a semi occupied shelf along the wall. They stood out amongst the aged and saturated books with their colors spines filled with classic celebrities, robots and galactic explosions. John certainly didn’t have any PROBLEM with the fact that they now owned all of Doctor Who, he grew up with it to be honest, but popular culture was something eternally lost of the fast-paced mind of Sherlock Holmes so even one DVD would have been odd to see.
“Do we? I hadn’t noticed.” The answer was too nonchalant, too passive and John gave him a deadpanned stare.
“You notice everything Sherlock.” Sherlock sighed, closing the book he’d been studiously reading, turning his attention to John.
“I bought them this morning at a little shop with a terribly misleading name.” He dropped his book on the coffee table and stood to wander into the kitchen. “The young woman led me to believe that it was very popular and that every household should own it.” He shrugged.
“Yes, okay. But WHY? You don’t just buy things because people tell you you should.” John followed him with a blooming smile on his face. “Were you knackered? What shop was it anyways?”
Sherlock had his back to John and was quiet for a moment. “Forbidden Planet.”
John’s turn to be quiet. He couldn’t piece that together. Not at all. That shop wasn’t tiny. It was one of the most popular comic and fandom shops out there. And how was the name mis- Oh. OH. “HAH You were knackered!” John laughed and put his hand to his head. “What did you go in there for? Were you looking for a new riding crop?” He was still laughing as he turned to hang up his coat. The silence from Sherlock was weird though and when he turned to look he could see a blush creeping up the back of his neck. “Oh… were you really? I mean that’s fine I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Sherlock sighed and rubbed his brow. “You haven’t figured this one out then, I see.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to look at him. He was in defense mode but at least he was willing to communicate.
“Figured what one out?”
“I did go into that shop thinking it were something more deviant but my purchase fits no less well with my current collection.” He watched John now, popping up his brow and John knew his consulting gig was up. The world’s only Sherlock Detective should have figured its target would have noticed. Sensing the challenge though, John stood and moved to the middle of the room. He licked his bottom lip and did a very slow turn, panning around the room and taking everything in. “New cook books. Different carpet. Uhm. I… I don’t know.” He had to admit. When he looked around the room, nothing looked that different. It all looked normal. “Oh.” He looked to Sherlock and the man looked away. “Oh Sherlock.” Then the smile was back but it was less teasing. “Is that why dead bird collection went missing? And the cluedo board?” He moved towards his partner and tilted his head.
“The dead birds were attracting cats. And you know how I feel about pets.” It wasn’t an admission but John took it as that anyways. “So.. okay so why an adult shop then?” Because while Sherlock had ended up in a geeks heaven, that was not what he’d gone in for originally.
Sherlock sighed heavily and rubbed his brow. “I was questioned. By Molly. She asked if you were comfortable living such an abnormal life. Of course she said so and immediately attempted to reconcile her poor judgment on words which in the end made the whole ordeal even more unbearable but the implications of her question remained. We live an abnormal life, there is no denying that. And, to be plain, if it were any different, I would not enjoy your company. You would be boring. But I understand that most others do not enjoy the type of lifestyle we live. So.. so I…”
“You’re trying to be more normal. By getting rid of dead birds, putting away knives, learning to cook and buying popular modern tv shows.” John finished and smiled. Sherlock’s lips were pursed and his cheeks slightly colored but he nodded anyways. “Sherlock. You don’t have to be more normal for me. Like you said, if you were too normal, I’d be bored.” Sherlock lifted his eyes slowly. “While I appreciate the removal of the birds, I just want you to be you. Maybe pick up the milk more often, and refrain from blowing up the kitchen, but really I like things how they are.” Sherlock watched him as if doubting his words. But he saw honesty in John’s patient eyes and nodded his understanding.
“Come on. If you bought it, we might as well watch it, eh?” He took Sherlock’s hand and tugged him to the couch. He pushed him down, set up the player with the first DVD (because you have to start at the beginning of course) and then tucked in against Sherlock’s side. They were halfway through a positively normal night when John remembered something. “Wait, you still never answered why you went to an adult shop.”
Sherlock smirked. “Through all my investigations, the one thing I have found consistently in households is-“
“Oh my god.”
The rest of the night was filled with Daleks, Cybermen and lots and lots of giggling.