fossilised | One Snowy Day - For John Watson

One Snowy Day - For John Watson

[It was the worst blizzard that London had endured for three hundred years. That's what the news reports said before they all cut off, the power lines giving under the weight of the snow. It started as just inclement weather (everyone take care out on the roads!), and then escalated into proper warnings (the emergency services recommend you stay indoors), and had finally ended in full lockdown (up to 65% of Londoners are trapped in their homes today).

John had been in the flat, the familiar Baker Street flat, helping Sherlock to track down anyone who might be assisting in enacting Moriarty's from-beyond-the-grave comeback. It had just made sense to stay an extra hour or two until the snow let up. Big mistake, as it turned out. Now he was fully snowed in with an extremely bored and agitated Sherlock Holmes.

No radio. No internet. No TV. No electricity of any kind.

Sherlock hasn't said anything for fifty-seven minutes, probably a relief to the poor beleagured John, but that's because he's busy. He has to do something to occupy his mind, and he's chosen the fridge. Slightly manic movements have helped him get literally everything out from the fridge and freezer, distributing it all over the living room floor. There's everything from a glass jar of thumbs in formaldehyde, to three half eaten tubs of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream.

His treasure trove assembled, Sherlock crouches on the floor and begins to move things around, organising them and then reorganising them in an ever more frustrated manner. It takes only a further fourteen minutes before he stands up and shouts, explosively:]

DAMN IT!

[Before throwing a ceramic pot of left-over stew at the wall, where it shatters with a loud crash.]

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[ john drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. his expression becomes incredulous when sherlock starts looking at him like he's an idiot, but he patiently waits for the explanation. he opens his mouth, closes it again, before pushing a sigh through his nose. it does make sense. somehow. ]

Yeah, I know I'd want to make a quick getaway if I was at an illicit sex party and someone died under mysterious circumstances. [ in the back of his mind, he's wondering how this hasn't happened to them yet. thank god for the internet to nurture that little itch. ] So rather than stick around to answer questions, the guests leg it instead. Maybe they're famous? Family men? Criminals?

Precisely, and with the witnesses all fleeing the scene, the police have no choice but to assume that something beyond an unfortunate accident occurred. They find the candlestick coated in Black's blood, and suspect the worst.

[He sits back, beaming smile on his face for having solved the game.

...for all of about six seconds, before that smile slips away.]

Now what, John?

[ ah. now this is the moment john realises they have been sherlock's abridged version of cluedo and his shoulders sink. it's only a matter of time before his friend becomes manic again. ]

Now we play the game properly. You know, going by what it says in the rule book. Except all the cards and weapons went flying when you went into Sherlock Holmes mode and started showing off. All I can see is the rope... unless that's a toe nail. Since we still have no electricity, we're either going to stand on the other weapons or find them in the morning.

Soooo... Operation?

That is playing the game properly, we solved the murder. If the rules don't allow for that, then the rules are the things at fault.

[He doesn't want to play Operation. John isn't Mycroft and the game is so much less fun because he's always beaten, playing Operation against a trained trauma surgeon is just a foolish choice.]

Let's order from the Golden Dragon.

I'm going to make a blog post and see how many people agree with you about that.

[ john tries to hide his disappointment about operation. he was looking forward to beating sherlock at a game where he can't change the rules. sniffing, he leans forward in his seat and decides to break the bad news to him instead. ]

We can't. London hasn't had any electricity for the past... [ john raises his wrist and squints at his watch. ] ... what, hour and a half now? Plus, they would've closed shop the second the first warning went out. If you're hungry, I can make you a sandwich.

Closed?!

[He sounds personally offended by this.]

They're a take-away, John, their entire business model rests on the shoulders of delivering food to people who don't want to go out in inclement weather. I don't want a sandwich, I would like Chinese chicken curry with boiled rice.

[ this would be john's chance to subject sherlock to a pitying look, but he isn't a complete dick like him. ]

I know, but it's been six years since we've had weather like this and it's even worse than back then. I very much doubt Sam is going to risk his life on the off chance Sherlock Holmes might call up for a Chinese chicken curry with boiled rice.

I don't see why not, I would give him a very generous tip.

[Well, five pounds. But he doesn't have a lot more cash just sitting around.

There's silence for approximately eight seconds, before the danger zone rears its ugly head.]

I'm bored, John.

Let's play another game then. We've got Guess Who, Kerplunk, Buckaroo and God knows what else under the sofa. I'd suggest Operation again, but obviously you're scared I might win.

[ his lips quirk into a smug little smile. ]

I'm not scared you might win.

[Clever as he is on most occasions, he is a fool on this one and falls right into the trap.]

Where's the board?

[ john tries to conceal his wicked little smile by putting the cluedo board and its remaining pieces away. ]

I thought I'd get a few of them out. You know.. just in case you didn't play Cluedo right again. Which you didn't, but never mind. It's just over there, next to your chair.

[He reaches down and pulls out the Operation box, a little battered for how long since it was last replaced, starting to set up the pieces meticulously.]

Non-dominant hand only.

[It probably won't slow down John much, a surgeon has to be good with both hands, but it might give him enough of an advantage to allow him to scrape a victory. Sherlock, after all, trained himself to be ambidextrous in his youth.]

[ john pouts at his terms, but agrees to them with a shrug. ]

Spoilsport.

[ right-handed operation it is. although he's done quite a few things with his right hand in his lifetime; shot a rubbish cabbie, punched an obnoxious detective in the face and his tremor never strayed away from his left hand. sherlock thinks he has the upper hand but there will be quite a bit of competition. ]

Jesus, that looks like it's gone through a war.

Just the Royal Mail sorting offices.

[It's a dry response with a small smile.]

But I can see where you'd make the mistake, it practically is going through a war for a package these days.

[He opens up the battered box and begins setting up the little plastic bones into the right compartments.]

Yeah, tell me about it.

[ he's still waiting for great aunt watson's christmas jumper to arrive. knitted by herself and ridiculed by everyone else. ]

I'm surprised you haven't enlisted them for your network. You know... deliver a letter, have a little look at what's going on. What could be more inconspicuous than a postman?

Don't be so stupid, John, they're already under the employ of people like my brother.

[He would never be so obvious as to hire a postman.]

If you believe any letter or parcel remains private, you are severely mistaken.

Everyone's under the employ of Mycroft. He tried to get me to spy on you, remember? I'm starting to wish I took him up on the offer.

[ no he doesn't. although it would've been funny to wind him up by agreeing to it and feeding him big fat porkies. it would make up for the amount of times a black car pulled up beside him. ]

Anyway, you used to nick my laptop without asking and printed off my birth certificate. I'd say it's a family trait, but your mum and dad are... [ he scrambles for an appropriate to describe them. ] ... really, really normal.

I know; terrible, isn't it?

[He does actually like his mother and father, despite how he complains about them, but they don't really understand him. He likes them more from a distance, much less when he actually has to spend time in their presence.]

I don't suppose Mycroft would be stupid enough to offer to pay you again, it's a shame you missed that opportunity, we could have split the money.

Surprising!

[ john suggests with a small smile. when john tried to visualize the parents responsible for inflicting mycroft and sherlock holmes on the world, bow ties and pastel cardigans was the last thing he'd picture. ]

Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied at the time. You know, with the telephones and cameras following me about... oh, and the big, abandoned warehouse. I thought he was an actual Bond villain, not your brother.

[ oh, how quickly that opinion of him changed. ]

Give me a time machine and I'll go back and take the money.

[Sherlock frowns in mild disgust, pausing in his setting up of the game to look over at John swiftly.]

Please say that you didn't tell Mycroft you ever thought of him as a bond villain, his arrogance would become utterly out of control.

[And that's coming from Sherlock Holmes, king of arrogance.]

I suppose his name is stupid enough to be one, though.

[Again: pot, kettle.]

Unless he sent someone next door to listen in on us with a stethoscope when the power went out, I'll be taking it to my grave.

[ it's a promise sealed with a lopsided grin. john is spiteful enough to do it. ]

Does he have a secret first name too? Stephen? Hilary? Lucifer?

[He snorts happily, genuinely amused as he finishes setting up the game.]

No, Mycroft wasn't burdened with a pedestrian moniker.

[Honestly, William is just... rubbish.]

Well, I'm going to guess he was burdened with other names instead.

[ like prat and arsehole and absolute king of dickheads. ]

Youngest first.

[He sighs and takes up the tweezers, before going for one of the larger and simpler bones to collect. It makes sense to eliminate the easy targets first.]

I'll order food while you take your turn.

[Alas, he hasn't been fully deterred from trying to make the local Chinese deliver even in this blizzard.]

Good luck with that.

[ john could show his mettle by taking one of the smaller pieces first, but where's the fun in that? he picks brain freeze and he manages to pry out the ailment with no difficulty. ]

Are they picking up?

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