Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

I Want a Sandwich | Sherlock Holmes

Prompts #5, #8, #12, #13, #27, and #40
Requested by @adefectivedetective

Idoot helped DJ_Tatortot

Thanks to @Shamefanfics for all the votes!

Summary: You've known Sherlock since college, and you've been solving cases with him and John for quite some time now. This often gets you into trouble...

QOTP: What's your favorite type of pie?

Word Count: 2943

"So, my foot's totally stuck in there, right? I'm freaking out, the dog's having a seizure, and I still got half a pie left," you say, telling John another story about your time in college with Sherlock.

This one is about the time you were dog sitting for a friend and got your foot stuck in between a cabinet and the wall, going to retrieve the dog's seizure medicine, which you dropped. Sherlock's mum had made you a pie for your birthday the day before, and you were eating it when you remembered to give the dog its medicine. You had to call Sherlock to come get you out of it.

You love telling these stories and John loves hearing them. Sherlock hates doing both.

"Do you have to tell everyone that story?" he complains, reading the newspaper in his chair.

"Yes," you argue. "I haven't even gotten to the part where the dog bit you yet."

John snorts. "Seriously?"

"Yes! His mum freaked when she heard about it. Made him get tested for rabies."

"Oh, yes, that's hilarious, ha ha," Sherlock deadpans, getting up from his chair and going to the kitchen.

He woke up about fifteen minutes ago. You and John have been up for a while and have already had breakfast.

You don't have a case today, but John has work, so he's saved from boredom.

He leaves about ten minutes later, leaving you with an annoying, grumpy Sherlock, who's munching on biscuits. You're laying back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Boredom has already set in. It's only been five minutes, but it feels like twenty.

"Do you ever think there's something more to life than napping and an otherwise perpetual state of wanting to take a nap?" you ask out of the blue.

There's a few seconds of silence before Sherlock answers languidly. "No."

"Me either." He only grunts in response, and you sigh and look over at him. "I want to take a nap, but I'm not tired."

He's still staring ahead, half a biscuit in his mouth. "I'm bored."

"Me, too."

There's another pause that lasts a few minutes, then he sighs deeply. "You know what my current mood is? Macbeth."

Your brows furrow and you sit up slightly, looking at him. "Explain."

"Filled with self-doubt. And regret. But also overconfidence in the prophesy that supposedly assured that nothing could go wrong for him. Also getting chased off stage and then decapitated seems particularly relatable."

"You really are bored, aren't you?"

"Terribly."

It goes silent again and you eventually end up falling asleep. When you wake up, your stomach grumbles and you check your watch. It's nearly lunch time. You sigh and stand, looking over at Sherlock. He's in his mind palace. "Well, Rabies Boy, I'm gonna run down to Speedy's for a sandwich. Not that you can hear me right now."