(Y/n) returned home to Baker Street later that evening to find John sitting in the kitchen, working his way through a tub of takeaway dinner. The rest of the kitchen counters, however, were covered in lab equipment; everything from beakers and bunsen burners to burettes and tripods occupied the space that would otherwise be used for… you know… cooking?
“Hey, how was work?” John asked, seeing (Y/n) place her backpack down in the living room before he turned and fished around a plastic bag for another tub of takeaway; one just for her.
“Ugh, tiring.” She halfheartedly giggled, “And I’m starved-”
Just then, Sherlock moved out of the bathroom, lab goggles, and dishwashing gloves secured on as he carried a large tray back into the kitchen. And the other two could tell he was more than annoyed as he threw the contents of said tray into the sink, filling up the kitchen with such a strong pungent smell that almost made the two hurl.
“Oh- God, what is that!?”
John asked, quickly putting a lid on his food so as to not contaminate it.
“Not working is what it is!”
“What are you trying to do exactly?”
(Y/n) asked through a muffled breath, seeing as her hand was now carefully covering her airways from the stench.
“He’s trying to kill us-”
“Oh, shut up John-”
“Hoo hoo!”
The three stopped and turned towards the door where they saw Ms Hudson, who, upon registering the horrid stench, looked pointedly at Sherlock.
“Oh, Sherlock! What are you doing to my flat?”
But the detective simply pushed her words away with the swipe of his hand as he continued pacing around the living room in search of something.
And Ms Hudson sighed, turning with a grimace on her face towards the other two flat occupants.
“Nevermind him, let’s enjoy dinner somewhere else, shall we?”
Her tired smile was more than enough to convince (Y/n) & John to hastily pick up their containers and follow their landlady downstairs, leaving the detective all alone to continue squabbling around in his own annoyance.
-
“Full?”
John asked as he watched (Y/n) place her now empty tub of takeaway onto the small dining table in Ms Hudson’s kitchen.
“Stuffed.”
And they smiled, slumping a little further into their chairs as they watched Sherlock walk into the flat, his own little box of takeaway dinner cradled in his hands.
“Ah, finally down to eat, Sherlock?”
Ms Hudson asked, turning her head from the position on the couch she remained in, a victorious smile now evident as she watched the detective pull a chair up to the table where (Y/n) and John sat.
“If these two don’t mind.”
He spoke to the table, but quiet enough that the older woman couldn’t hear. And as he asked, he looked up only to (Y/n), hoping she’d be a little more sympathetic towards his irritation earlier, unlike John.
“‘Course not.” She smiled, moving some of her’s and John’s bits to make room for him.
“So,” John started, paying no mind to the frankly odd interaction he’d just witnessed. Odd on Sherlock’s behalf anyway. “What exactly were you trying to do upstairs?”
YOU ARE READING
The Crimson Curator | (Sherlock x Fem!Reader)
Fanfiction[PUBLISHING PAUSED UNTIL WRITING COMPLETION!] The art world is a place of beauty and inspiration, but also of hidden secrets. A corpse is found in one of the most unusual circumstances Greg Lestrade has ever seen, which means only one thing; it's st...
