You're An Idiot, Sherlock Holmes (OC x Sherlock)

Shut Up And Smoke

I barely missed my mug for a sip as I read from my laptop. I was so intrigued in this one case, it was unexplainable. I looked over at the front door, waiting for Sherlock to come home from his case. I looked back at my screen with a sigh.

I heard upset steps up the stairs as I turned my head at the right time; to find Sherlock burst open the door, holding a wooden harpoon and covered in blood as if he got himself a one-way ticket to a bloodbath.

"Christ, Sherlock!" I exclaimed, practically jumping out of my armchair. I managed to save my mug and laptop from hitting the carpet. 

"Well that was tedious," Sherlock stated flippantly.

"Did you go on the subway like that?" I asked, eyes wide at the sight before me. 

"None of the cabs would take me." He made his way into the bedroom to change while I sat, staring at nothing in disbelief.

A few minutes later, he came back out, all cleaned up and in one of his dressing gowns, still holding the harpoon. I was already going through newspapers as he frantically paced back and forth, tossing his weapon between both of his hands. 

"Nothing?" he asked curtly as he paced in a circle.

"Let's see . . . A military coup in Uganda," I blithely acknowledged. "Oh-! And another photo with you in the . . . ," I trailed off, pointing to the iconic photo of Sherlock in the deerstalker the press took after one of our cases.

I folded my newspaper in hand and put it aside as I flipped through another one. "Cabinet reshuffle?" 

"Nothing of importance!" Sherlock frustratedly yelled as he stopped pacing and slammed his harpoon to the ground. 

"I'm sure to the Cabinet it's important," I said with a shrug.

Sherlock's eyes flitted over to me with the look I have grown to despise. "Jane, I need some. Get me some," he said abruptly, eyes filled with hunger. 

I stared back at him with a flat expression, completely aware of how this conversation always concluded. "No." I continued flipping through the newspaper.

"Get me some." 

"No." My head snapped back to Sherlock as I pointed a finger at him. "I'm the doctor -cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what," I sternly reminded him. "You said you would do it for me."

Sherlock turned away from me in annoyance as he set down his harpoon. 

"You'd paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two-mile radius will bother selling you any," I said. 

"Stupid idea, who's idea was that?" Sherlock spat. I turned to him, hintingly clearing my throat.

"Mrs. Hudson!" he called. He waited a moment for a response before diving into the cluttered desk and tossing everything behind him to find what he needed. 

"Look, Sher, you're doing really great now. Don't give up," I said. My eyes followed one of my psychology books in the air Sherlock threw behind him. 

He started going through everything by the windows. "Tell me where they are! Please, tell me!" He stopped everything he was doing, straightened as he turned to me and let his face relax. "Please," he gently said. 

"Sorry, can't help," I refused, turning back to the newspaper in hand. 

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers," Sherlock tried, back to his cold tone.

I let out a snort.

"It was worth a try." For a second he stood there with no movement before his eyes traveled to the fireplace and he practically threw himself to it, once more continuing to dig through everything.