Rules on the Fridge [A BBC Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction] (Completed)

And Over The Seas

TRIGGER WARNING: Reference to previous self harm injuries - not graphic.

--------

♪ You Are My Favourite Distraction ♪

Watson would point to the paper on the fridge whenever Holmes asked a question regarding a case and inquired about going to investigate without him. Watson would make him wait until he'd finished his breakfast before leaving just to show Holmes had to listen. He'd check his bandages every twelve hours, making sure they weren't stained with blood from too much vigorous movement.

It happened a couple of times, and Watson was amazed that he never got an infection from how open the wounds stayed from something as small as playing the violin – the constant movement of tendons prevented proper healing. Especially since he played for hours on end, ignoring the burning sensation he got. It was lucky he didn't play guitar with two hands with vigorous finger movement – or piano, for that matter. At least one hand was mostly unmoving.

Watson would unwrap the old bandages and carefully apply new ones after sanitizing the wound and making sure the bandages were clean. Holmes would sit there impatiently, not doing as most people would; watch the bandages go around and complain at it if it got too tight. Watson had to pay extra attention to make sure he didn't wrap it too tight because Holmes would never tell him – he just wanted it to be done.

"Sherlock!" Watson called, standing sternly in the kitchen with his fists balled at his sides. "I told you no unauthorized experiments – what is this?"

"Well, mother, let me explain." Holmes sassed, exaggerating the motion of pushing hair out of his face. "I was just mixing up a spell to make your damn rules go away!" Holmes exploded, a frown set deep into his features.

"You child," Watson scoffed, shaking his head. "You can't self-monitor, so I made rules to help you until you can."

♫ ♫ ♫

"I'm going out to talk with Lestrade – he thinks he's got something. Probably unrelated but I'm going to go check it out." Holmes called out, making Watson raise his eyebrows. At least he's accepted he should at least sort of follow the rules.

"Alright, if you end up doing anything else, tell me so I don't have to come looking for you." John called out, making Holmes sigh.

"Whatever you say."

John was left alone in the house. He decided that if Holmes was going off by himself there was nothing for him to hide, but John wanted to look anyway. He cleaned up a bit too, in the process. Put all the tea in one cupboard rather than two cupboards and a drawer, cleaned out the fridge of old cheese, spoiled eggs, and old sandwich meat. And a couple jars of unsightly substance he figured Holmes wouldn't miss... he kept one of each for safety though.

He opened the freezer to be greeted by two ice cube trays, and a foggy plastic container labeled "Bear Heart". John promptly closed it again, staring at the outside of it in shock before continuing to the counter – he left the microscope; stacked and set aside all the other things that went with it, grimacing at how much residue was on the countertop. He debated on whether or not to clean it up. He decided that it'd be easier on his conscience if it was clean.

♫ ♫ ♫

All was done and he felt as if his personality had gone out the window – he'd never done that much cleaning in his life. He wasn't an extremely organized person by heart – he usually left it unless he was bored out of his mind, or his soldier training was kicking in.