rough ashes ;; johnlock

Chapter five

JOHN

Sherlock would never eat.

He just refused.

He wasn't hungry, eating was boring, which in Johns opinion was a a tad bit stupid. Eating wasn't actually meant to be an exciting and eventful task of the day.

But each day without fail he would just simply; refuse.

But John still tried. He'd work tirelessly to feed him something, slipping things into his tea, but being the genius that he was, he noticed and would pour the drink, down into the murky drains.

It began to become exhausting. But you can't just give up on a human. Especially a broken one.

***

"Eat something Sherlock."

"Not hungry."

***

This continued everyday.

John tried again.

"Sherlock, eat please"

"no."

"C'mon a bit of potato."

"I'm not hungry John, for gods sake!"

"Sherlock fucking Holmes, you eat something this goddamned minute or I swear to the Lord I will belt you with a pan."

"Fuck John, I don't feel like eating, where is the tea anyway?"

"No tea if you don't eat."

"You can't just take my fucking tea away!"

"Watch me!" bellowed John sighing into his shirt.

"I WANT MY TEA" yelled Sherlock kicking the cupboard like a tantrum driven four year old child.

"eat, then you can have tea back."

He walked over the plate of steaming potatos. The smell made him nauseous.
Glaring at the potatoes as if it was their fault he had to eat, they seemed to glare back at him.

"I can't eat this!" exclaimed Sherlock gesturing violently at the potatoes.

"Why ever not?"

"They are staring at me menacingly with - with" he stuttered still pointing.

"with what exactly?" asked John clearly amused.

"Those eyes," he ended dramatically.

"God damnit Sherlock. Eat the fucking potatos."

"And tea?" replied Sherlock like a child, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"And tea." agreed John.

He looked at his food, poking it depressingly with the silverware. Finally he viciously stabbed a potato and took the tiniest bite.

He cringed and put down the fork.

"I'm not eating anymore."

"no tea then."

"For fuck sake, I don't care about tea anymore John, do anything you want, but I will not eat anymore."

"Sherlock you are as skinny as a rake, you are terribly unhealthy and sick -"

Sherlock cut him off with the strained sound of his violin that he had recently collected from Mycroft.

"God damnit..." muttered John turned away from him. "Why do I fucking try." he wondered.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder to see John putting back the tea. He smiled to himself and continued playing.

***