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John.

How can you not know --

Oh, come on, John. Stupid.

You know I'm at work, right, Sherlock?

Yes?

Then, you know I have patients. People who need me more than you do, currently.

That's a very subjective assessment - consequently, unreliable.

John, I'm bored!

You texted me about raspberry bloody jam, for crying out loud. I figured!

I'm also out of toast.

The grocer's expanded to the neighbouring building now, thus moving even closer, you know.

Come John, I can't go down there like this. Mycroft would be scandalized and then, inevitably, he'd pop by.

What would he do, step in the sheet you're not wearing?

We have a bit of a... thing. Currently.

Sibling rivalry, I get it.

I also don't live at Baker Street anymore, so your jam and your toast are not my problem.

I - no. No, I suppose not.

Could use your help regardless, later today. Case.

You're back on casework?

Need to tie up some loose ends.

Rough estimate, how long will it take?

What? Why?

Because I have exactly three days' worth of paid holiday left and I need to call them in, if you want me off work for this.

Oh.

Yes, good, you're on sparkling form, I can tell.

Shut up. I'll text for you when I need you - try to pick up your phone once in a while.

(no subject)

docwithablog - 2019-09-22 04:38 (UTC) - Expand

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