A Boring Afternoon
Title: A Boring Afternoon
Author: Me
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Warning: None. No-Spoiler as well.
Watson's girlfriend is my original minor-role character.
**Just want to write it out of nowhere**
**because bitchy Sherlock is adorable**
Since we started sharing a flat, I really hadn't known what to response to this. By this, I meant, his childish behavior and his banal struggles with peaceful days. Usually, actually, I just walked away, not being miffed but afraid that I would lose my sanity if I stayed. I'd grasp my coat and my key. I'd swear to God if Mycroft asked me to take care of this kid again, the big brother had to beg on his knees. I'd walk out of the door hopefully he would soon drop that infantile act. Hopefully, someone would be found peculiarly dead. Hopefully, Lestrade would hopelessly call.
According to newspapers, Sherlock Holmes was a hero for he had been solving crimes --- serious crimes. According to me, Mr. SH was solving crimes, in the same time, was craving for those villainies. From my point of view, he wasn't a saviour. Sherlock would become irritated like an old lady in her golden years whenever he wasn't fed any heinous cases for a while. Speaking of cases, he preferred felonies to misdemeanors. He loved the crimes the same way as a flower loved its seeds. He adored the criminals' games as much as the crooks adored their misdeeds. To live ordinarily. Sherlock needed someone losing her beloved or shedding tears.
No cases week. Mr. self-assured was bored. He was acting childish again.
Covering his svelte figure with a blanket, Sherlock lied prostrate on the sofa. He had been refusing to eat, causing Mrs. Hudson worry. I doubted he had some rest since he hadn't gone to bed. Underneath the blanket, Sherlock was fully dressed, 24/7 gearing up in case of a possible call from Lestrade or a client regarding someone's misfortune. Alas, no one called.
Since Sherlock had sulked for two days, I had lost count of the bullet holes in the wall. I also wished I had one in my skull every time he scowled at me, asking if there was any incoming mail regarding a strange case every goddamned minute. If not, he'd lampoon my blog and sink himself into the sofa, pouting like a disrespectful high-school girl having a fight with me - her aggravated dad. All day long, Sherlock had been talking me into losing my temper while I was trying to update my blog. His gibes encouraged me to put the message 'Sherlock Holmes is a real asshole' on my blog but I was matured enough not to. I even hoped today was Monday. If it had been Monday, I would have gone to work. Unfortunately, it was a fucked up Sunday my date took her son to the dentist so I had to sticking with my vexing flatmate. However, so far I managed to not declare war.
I hated our squabbles. To be more exact, I hated meaningless spats, with him, whom I'd undoubtedly fail to win.
When I decided I had enough of his insulting comments, I left the living room to give myself some privacy. I sent a message to Linda, my girlfriend, asking if everything was ok. I knew it was a stupid question because, indeed, she should be fine, but I didn't have any better things to do. Linda texted me back telling me she was getting tired of babysitting her son and how much she wanted him to grow up faster. I smiled as I thought we were facing the same problem. I was tired of babysitting the big brat here as well. I wished I could tell someone I wanted Sherlock to grow up faster, too. However, if I would reveal my wish, Linda would be my last choice since she always felt like killing someone whenever I brought up his name. I wouldn't blame her. And I wouldn't blame all of my ex-girlfriends who dumped me. There was only one man to blame for my previously failed relationships.
I asked Linda out for dinner. She said she would bring her son along.
As I pushed my phone back in my pocket and turned around, I found Sherlock looking at me. His blue eyes covered with the curly bang were filled with gloomy clouds as if the rain would soon fall on his pale cheeks. It was like he was asking me how I could selfishly have fun while he was suffering from his boredom.
It wasn't my fault, was it?
"Ah... haven't broken up with that widow yet... " murmuring in his deep voice, Sherlock turned back to the sofa cushions.
At least, he remembered that this time I was dating a widow.
I knew he wasn't talking to me but I answered anyway. "No, Sherlock. Although you were unbelievably rude to Linda the last time she came here, we're still good."
"Boring couple" he snorted.
I was fed up with his familiar games. Instead of futilely trying to defend myself or my girlfriend and being led to the edge of slapping Sherlock across his arrogant face, I asked him if he wanted me to go out and murder someone. All for him.
"No, thanks. If it was you, it'd be dull" he said monotonously to indicate that my idea was absolutely absurd.
"Why don't you call Lestrade, then?", I suggested.
"Why should I? He is supposed to summon me."
"Do you want to watch TV?"
He faced me, "boooring", then again turned towards sofa cushions, drowning in his obstinate silence.
I was weary of spoiling him.
"I'm going out", I said. I knew Sherlock heard me whether he was listening or not.
And this time, he actually turned his whole body over. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to pick up Linda and her son."
"Why?"
Why?
Why did he ask me 'why'? I was going to meet my girlfriend. Did I need any reason for that? I stood still trying to figure out how to answer this weird question while he was looking at me demanding an explanation. Sometimes, Sherlock was like a small child repeatedly asking 'what's this?' and 'what's that?'.
Finally, I said, "why not? It's sunday. I'm going to have some fun without you."
Truthfully, I would like to see him pout a bit.
But he didn't.
Lying down on his back, he solemnly asked again, "what's fun?"
Linda once told me that, sometimes children kept asking just because they wanted us to pay attention.
"What did you do together?" he pushed.
"Why don't you ask Molly instead?"
He stopped short, and then frowned. "what's about her? why are you bringing her up?"
"Listen, Sherlock," I signed. "Why don't you ask her out on a date? Molly obviously likes you."
He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what's behind my advice.
"If you want to know what I do with Linda, just ask Molly out."
Sherlock insisted on having an answer. "Can't you just tell me, John?"
I gave up. Going on a date with Sherlock would be Molly's nightmare anyway.
"We kiss."
I felt fatigued already, so I made it short.
"Boring."
He gave me a predictable comment, turned his back at me and curled up on the sofa.
"I will be late," I whispered but Sherlock didn't reply.
As if he didn't hear me. As if I wasn't here. However, whether he was pretending or not, I didn't care.
I just walked away, not being miffed but afraid that I would lose my sanity if I stayed.
I grasped my coat and my key. I swore to God if Mycroft asked me to take care of this guy again, the big brother had to beg on his knees.
I walked out of the door hopefully Sherlock would soon drop his childish act.
Hopefully, Lestrade would made a contact.
Hopefully, someone would be found peculiarly dead.
Hopefully, my date would keep me busy enough to get him out of my head.
**THE END**
ส่งท้ายเขียนภาษาไทยมั่ง
เค้าช้อบชอบเชอร์ล็อกภาค BBC ฮ่าๆ รู้สึกว่าเชอร์ล็อกภาคนี้น่าเอ็นดูมาก น่าแกล้ง อยากแกล้ง
-_-,,
ไม่ได้เขียนอะไรยาวๆ นอกจากวิทยานิพนธ์มาหลายเดือนเลย สองเดือน? รึเปล่า?
วันนี้อยากเขียนอะไรสักอย่างเลยเขียนเรื่องนี้เล่น
ฉันดูหนังไม่เคยแต่งแฟนฟิกเลยนะ เรื่องนี้เป็นเรื่องแรกจริงๆ
เพราะคาแรคเตอร์น่าสนใจมากทั้งสองคน T^T อ้อ คุณพี่ไมครอฟต์ด้วย
ถ้านึกสนุกขึ้นมาอีกก็คงจะเขียนอะไรได้อีก
ร้ากเชอร์ล็อกอ้ะ xD
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