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"BORED"

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Sherlock’s phone.

A Sunday evening like any other.

 

“BORED”.

You created this group chat.

You changed the group chat name to “BORED”.

John joined this group chat.

Lestrade joined this group chat.

Mycroft joined this group chat.

John: Um… Hello?

Lestrade: What is this?

Sherlock: A group chat, you geniuses.

Lestrade: Yeah, ok, genius, but why did you make it?

Sherlock: Isn’t it obvious enough? Because I’m bored.

Mycroft: I am a bit too busy for this, brother mine.

Sherlock: If you are, then why even bother texting?

Lestrade: Do you really have nothing to do, Sherlock?

Sherlock: Lestrade, if you keep asking obvious questions you’ll lose your title of less stupid member of Scotland Yard.

John: I thought you had a case about some necklace vanished in strange circumstances?

Sherlock: Yes, clear as day, solved it this morning while you were grocery shopping, I’m bored NOW.

John: Right. And this is what you decide to do.

I bet you’ll get sick of this group in less than a day.

Sherlock: Then let’s see it as an experiment! To test my... endurance.

John: In social matters? It’s not very high.

Lestrade: A group chat with Sherlock. Maybe it’ll be funny.

Mycroft: “Funny” isn’t the word I would use.

Sherlock: The point isn’t to be funny. I just want to stop being bored.

You changed the profile picture.

Lestrade: Hahahahaha, what did I just say about it being funny?

John: SHERLOCK! When the hell did you take that picture of me?

Sherlock: You were so focused on writing your little blog. Look at the wrinkles on your forehead, you only get those when you write.

Lestrade: HAHAHAHA why is it so zoomed in?

Sherlock: To remove all irrelevant elements.

John: For God’s sake.

Lestrade: Hey, John, look at that. He’s just called your face a relevant element. Isn’t he nice.

Mycroft: Seriously, Sherlock? I don’t want to have to look at a close-up of doctor Watson’s face whenever I open this group chat.

Sherlock: Then don’t open it.

Molly Hooper joined this group chat.

Lestrade: I added Molly!

Molly: Hi?

Sherlock: Why did you?

John: Sherlock!

Sherlock: What?

John: What do you mean "what"? Don’t be rude.

Hello, Molly.

Molly: Oh, hi boys!

What’s up with John’s super-zoomed-in face?

Lestrade: I added her so she would join the fun, obviously.

Sherlock: Was that rude? It wasn’t.

John: Yes it was.

Lestrade: Yes it was.

Molly: Um… Well, I agree, it was.

Sherlock: Oh, for God’s sake.

John: Endurance test: failed.

Sherlock: What crossed my mind when I made this group chat?

John: I think you were bored.

Sherlock: Thank you, John.

Mycroft: Ah, the sophisticated art of blatant, unfunny sarcasm.

Sherlock: Oh. Not so busy now, Mycroft?

No, wait, I got it. You’re at the dentist.

Mycroft: Correct. It took you a while. Are you getting slow?

No reply? Did I hurt your pride?

Sherlock: John, we’re out of milk.

Mycroft: Ignoring a text you clearly read is too childish even for you.

John: I’m at Lena’s. Can you get the milk yourself, just once?

Sherlock: Ah, your girlfriend. Now that you bring her up, her last boyfriend issued a restraining order for her and she is quite possibly a psychopath. Pretty sure she killed her cat. Did you really not get a single hint?

John: Very funny, but I’m not gonna go home. Buy the milk.

Sherlock: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Molly: Poor cat!

John: Oh come on, Molly. It’s not true.

Lestrade: How on earth do you make those guesses? Is that even true? I want to see that girl now. Just to know what a cat killer psychopath looks like to you.

John: If you want to see what a psychopath looks like, look no further than Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock: For the last time, they’re not GUESSES, they are deductions, and yes, of course it’s true.

Lestrade: Yeah, yeah. Are you sure you’re not just a stalker? How else would you know about the restraining order?

Sherlock: How are you so... thick-headed? I can’t believe you actually work at NSY.

Lestrade: Woah, alright, mate, I get it, I’m dumb and you’re clever. What’s this Lena girl’s last name though? Maybe I can look her up... The restraining order should show up.

John: Lestrade, for God’s sake!

Sherlock: You want him to do it, admit it.

Lestrade: Ok fine, no looking her up.

But I do want to see her. Can you introduce me? See what someone who killed their cat looks like?

...

John?

We’re just joking around, come on

Sherlock: Sorry, John, I didn’t mean to insult you for not being bright enough to suspect her. I understand that you’re just slightly blinded by the combination of insecurities that led you to try to fill your existential void with new flings.

John: Shut up for a minute, will you.

...

Molly: What if we change the subject?

Lestrade: Not a bad idea.

Molly: How are you, John? You had some sort of accident recently, didn’t you? Haven’t had the chance to ask you about it.

Lestrade: I went to Baker Street yesterday, he looked well.

John: I am better, thank you Molly. But I won’t be working next week, my leg is still recovering.

Molly: Oh, I see.

How did it even happen?

John: Oh, you know, the typical. Sherlock decides it’s a great idea to jump from the top of a 2-story building. He nails the landing. I do not. He dramatically fights a criminal, swishing his coat around, while I am in pain on the ground because I can’t move my leg.

And he only realizes that five minutes later.

Molly: Well, ouch.

Sherlock: Hardly my fault you don’t know how to survive a tiny little fall.

John: Entirely your fault that you assumed I did! And ignoring me afterwards, that’s your fault, too.

Sherlock: I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t even realize it, as you’ve just said.

Molly: OOOook, boys, I think we should all relax now.

So are you doing ok now, John?

John: Yeah. The damn limp is annoying though, really annoying. Reminds me of the time when I was just back from Afghanistan.

I had to get some crutches from the hospital, too. Kind of hate them. I don't know what happened to my cane, should be somewhere in my room, but… well, it’s not.

Molly: That’s quite odd, right?

Lestrade: Quite odd? Have you SEEN how messy their flat can get? Wouldn’t be surprised if they lost track of where the bed is.

Sherlock: It’s a shame the limp isn’t psychosomatic. This time running after a taxi won't solve anything.

We can try if you want to, though.

Lestrade: Ohh… Almost forgot about that! The time I met John. Back then I didn’t even notice that John’s limp had disappeared, you know, when we were in the drugs bust in your flat.

Sherlock: That’s not a surprise, you never notice anything.

Molly: Slow down, a drugs bust? Really?

John: Long story.

Molly: But you didn’t find any drugs… did you?

Sherlock: It was just an excuse for Lestrade to bother me.

Lestrade: There was a pretty high chance you had murdered a woman, actually, but word it however you want.

And it’s not like Sherlock would be the last person on Earth to be in possession of drugs.

Sherlock: Sorry, what are you now, Mycroft #2?

Lestrade: What, because I care about that?

Sherlock: Yes. Because you care about that.

Molly: We all care, Sherlock.

Sherlock: Whatever.

Chat about whatever you please, I don’t seem to be in control of this group chat anymore.

And enjoy your wonderful date, John.

Lestrade: Someone’s pissed...

 

 


 

 

 

Molly: Anyone there? Now I’m the one who’s bored.

Lestrade: I’m here.

Who would’ve thought we’d all be... flocking back to Sherlock’s little group chat.

Sherlock: Here too. I was doing an experiment but the microwave exploded.

John: The microwave WHAT???

SHERLOCK

Wait a minute.

I see what you’re doing.

I’M NOT GOING HOME! Stop trying! And buy the damn milk.

Lestrade: So that’s what you do when you’re bored, Sherlock? You try to spoil John’s dates?

John: Yes. He does.

Sherlock: No I don’t. John’s dates spoil themselves.

Molly: I’m lost. So the microwave didn’t explode?

Lestrade: I don’t think so. That microwave has been the subject of too many experiments, but it was still fine the last time I visited Sherlock and John. Strong and sturdy!

Molly: John and Sherlock’s microwave, the real hero.

Mycroft: I am starting to realize some things that make me glad I don’t live with my brother anymore.

Sherlock: The problem is you’re starting to realize them now. And you call me slow...

Lestrade: Does anybody really know what happens in 221B Baker Street?

I mean apart from poor Mrs. Hudson.

Molly: I don’t have a clue, personally.

John: Mycroft probably has cameras.

But yeah, I don’t know. I don’t have a clue either. And I live here.

Sherlock: Don’t worry. It isn’t surprising from you lot to not have a clue about something.

John: Sherlock.

Sherlock: Oh, what, I have been rude again?

Lestrade: We’re used to it, no worries.

Sherlock: You see, John? They’re used to it. You don’t need to interrupt your stellar date to scold me.

John: Great. Then I’ll leave that to Mycroft from now on.

Mycroft: That is not my job, John. And thank God it isn’t.

John: Well it isn’t mine either. And you’re his big brother!

Well… then maybe you, Greg?

Lestrade: Oh, no, mate, not my division.

Sherlock: Greg. Greg . I had forgotten again.

Molly: Did his mum never scold him when he was a child?

Mycroft: Excuse me, my brother’s manners are not our mother’s fault.

Molly: Oh, um… sorry? No offense. Sorry.

Sherlock: Stop talking like I’m a baby you have to take care of.

Lestrade: You act like one!

Sherlock: Bah.

Molly: A really clever baby.

Lestrade: That just sounds weird, Molly.

 

 


 

 

 

Sherlock: Still boooooorrrrrrred.

John: Please, don’t shoot the wall again this time.

Molly: Has he ever… You know what, nevermind, stupid question.

Sherlock: Finally, a little self-awareness.

How’s your date going, John?

John: It’s going fantastically.

Lena is having a shower right now.

Lestrade: Restrain yourself and don’t interrupt.

John: Gross, Greg.

Lestrade: Hey!

Sherlock: Still not giving up on the psychopath, then?

John: She. Is. Not. A. Psychopath. Can you stop implying bad things about my girlfriends?

Sherlock: Oh, I’m not implying anything, I am fully confirming it. I bet psychopathy, narcissism, and a little bit of a murderous instinct weren’t among the list of things you look for in a potential partner.

Lestrade: Sherlock, that sounds like a description of yourself.

Mycroft: It does. Are we sure those things are not in John’s list?

John: Oh come on, so she’s not just a psychopath anymore? You’re just making things up at this point. Look. First of all, I do NOT have a list of things I look for in a woman.

Sherlock: Not materially, which doesn’t mean it does not exist.

John: Second of all, she is NOT a psychopath, or a narcissist, or a potential murderer.

And lastly, I’m going to turn off the phone.

Sherlock: Pfft. No you’re not.

Lestrade: Sherlock, did you make this chat just to share all your domestics with us?

Molly: I’m uncomfortable…

Lestrade: Why? This is really funny.

John: Definitely going to turn it off.

 

“John”.

Status: Online.

Sherlock: John.

John.

John.

John.

John.

John.

John.

John.

John.

Status: -

 

“BORED”.

Sherlock: He is no longer online.

Lestrade: You mean John?

What about that?

Sherlock: I don’t know. Did he actually turn his phone off?

Lestrade: Are you actually surprised?

Mycroft: Oh, he is upset, my poor little brother.

Sherlock: No.

Molly: Just let John enjoy the moment. I bet she’s not that bad!

Right?

Sherlock, do you actually think she’s dangerous? I’m kind of scared for John now.

Sherlock: She wouldn’t be the most dangerous person he’s ever spent an evening with.

Lestrade: The most dangerous one being you, I suppose?

Sherlock: Are you out of the dentist already, Mycroft?

Mycroft: On my way home. When did you start being interested about me?

Sherlock: Just bored.

Mycroft: Yes, I see, that is the whole point of this group chat, isn’t it.

 

 


 

 

 

Sherlock: John is online again.

Mycroft: And… you said that in the group conversation solely to avoid talking directly to him and keep your pride intact, how interesting.

John: Yeah, alright, I’m here again.

Lestrade: Nothing to say about your date?

John: She got… a bit heated up.

Lestrade: In the sexy way?

John: In the dangerous way.

Molly: I was worried about you, John! Did you get home safe?

John: Yep. I mean, I’m still on the way there, actually, but hopefully she isn’t following my cab or anything.

Molly: Was she really a psychopath?

John: I’m not one to get scared easily but. You know. She was being a little. Weird.

Also she kind of kept knives everywhere in her house, under the pillow too.

I mean, you do too, Sherlock. But it’s different. You warned me first.

Molly: Really, did he? That sounds strangely nice of him.

John: Also, I’m pretty sure she killed her cat.

Sherlock: Not interested in her, then?

John: Of course not.

Sherlock: So I was right.

Lestrade: Sherlock, you know he’s not going to literally say that.

Mycroft: What a wonderful showcase of pride.

Sherlock: You’re not one to talk about pride, Mycroft.

John: I agree with that.

I’ll buy the milk before I get home.

Sherlock: I already bought it.

John: Really?

Sherlock: Yes.

Boredom makes people do silly things.

John: Surprising regardless. When did you buy it?

Sherlock: Don’t know. Time flows strangely on Sundays. Shortly after you told me to do it.

John: Then why did you want me to go home? You already had the milk.

Sherlock: Well, you know.

Obviously, it was on your behalf, I was just trying to convince you about Lena’s condition. Your life was quite literally in risk.

John: Yes, I suppose you can say that.

Molly: Happy ending, then?

Lestrade: Happy ending!

Mycroft: Oh, my God. I don’t even know why I keep reading the incoming messages of this group.

Sherlock: Yes, you do.

Lestrade: Let me guess. Overprotective big brother who wants to know all about his little brother’s whereabouts?

John: That’s pretty much it, yeah.

Molly: You were kind of right about this being funny, Lestrade.

Lestrade: Yeah, right?

You can call me Greg, by the way.

Molly: Um… OK, Greg!

Sherlock: Better go to sleep now, all of you. Your sleep patterns are too fragile for this.

Molly: It is getting late. Good night everyone then!

Lestrade: Good night.

John: Good night.

Sherlock: Bah.