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Blood oranges aren't real oranges
Notes: This turned out to be the 11th chapter of Eating us alive, again. It just happened yesterday and wasn’t supposed to be, but here it is. It proves once and for all that I can’t be trusted when I say that I won’t write anything else about this. I’m still posting the epilogue today as planned.
Summary: John has a realisation after meeting Molly.
-x-
“A little help here?” John said as he carried three bags of groceries into the kitchen.
Sherlock turned away from the window but didn’t let John’s return disturb his violin playing. It was a familiar melody, but John couldn’t remember its name. Sherlock followed him to the kitchen and for the longest time John just glared at him and the detective smirked.
“Did you buy any oranges?” Sherlock finally asked, abruptly taking the bow of the strings, placing both violin and bow on the table next to the grocery bags.
“Yeah, here you go,” John went through the bags and handed him a net with oranges, “It’s blood oranges though. The normal ones didn’t look good.”
Sherlock frowned and dropped the net on the table as if it had burned him.
“Come on,” John sighed and opened the fridge, thoroughly examining the agar plates Sherlock had started to keep there again. “It’s almost the same.”
“No.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“Fine,” John muttered, taking back the oranges, “I’ll give them to Mrs Hudson. I’m sure there’s a blood orange-soufflé or something she can make.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” John frowned thoughtfully, “Perhaps she can do something else with them?”
“Or I can just eat them, I suppose.” Sherlock dropped down on the nearest chair.
“How magnanimous of you,” John handed them back to him and began putting the food into the fridge, “Oh, Molly says hi, I ran into her at lunch today.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Sherlock wondered without looking up from the orange he had carefully started to peel.
“You know she’s pregnant?”
Sherlock glared at him, obviously deeming him an idiot. John sighed with a smile and threw an empty bag at him – it almost hit him.
“They haven’t found out,” John said as he started on the last bag.
“Why not?”
“Want it to be a surprise. Bit of a mystery,” John shrugged.
“It’s going to be one of two things,” Sherlock snorted, “That can hardly count as a huge mystery.”
“That’s narrow-minded of you.”
“I suppose you can argue there are more alternatives,” Sherlock admitted, “but it’s not like they are going to notice that with an infant.”
“That’s not what I meant,” John reached for the empty bag again and made a new attempt to throw it at Sherlock. He was just as close – or just as far from – hitting him this time.
“What did you mean, then?”
“That every mystery in the world doesn’t have to live up to the Sherlock Holmes-standard,” John chuckled, starting to clean up Sherlock’s peels.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and put an orange piece in John’s mouth.
“You’re right,” John said in slight disgust, “This isn’t close to a real orange.”
“I’m always right,” Sherlock smirked and reached for some paper towels.
“No, you’re not.”
“Perhaps not, but I do know oranges.”
“Write it up and put it next to your analysis of tobacco ashes,” John teased, throwing away what was left of the blood orange. “Tea?”
“I want real oranges.”
“Don’t pout,” John smirked. Sherlock glared at him and got to his feet, picking up both the violin and the melody again.
John took that as yes to the tea and put on the kettle. Humming along with Sherlock’s melody he put sugar in one of the mugs and realised something; earlier today when he’d answered Molly’s “How are you and Sherlock?” with his usual “Fine”, he probably had been telling the truth.
No, he had been telling the truth.
The insight took his breath away and he looked at Sherlock who had walked out to the sitting room. Quietly John followed with the tea, placing Sherlock’s mug on the mantelpiece.
“I’ll go buy you real oranges when I’ve finished the tea,” he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the violin, and managed to kiss Sherlock’s cheek.
The melody got slightly interrupted, but Sherlock smirked and kept playing. John sat down in his chair, cherishing the sound of music in the flat again. They were back to their version of normal.
For now.
-x-
Please read the notes for the last part.
Epilogue: Putting on the oxygen mask
Summary: John has a realisation after meeting Molly.
-x-
“A little help here?” John said as he carried three bags of groceries into the kitchen.
Sherlock turned away from the window but didn’t let John’s return disturb his violin playing. It was a familiar melody, but John couldn’t remember its name. Sherlock followed him to the kitchen and for the longest time John just glared at him and the detective smirked.
“Did you buy any oranges?” Sherlock finally asked, abruptly taking the bow of the strings, placing both violin and bow on the table next to the grocery bags.
“Yeah, here you go,” John went through the bags and handed him a net with oranges, “It’s blood oranges though. The normal ones didn’t look good.”
Sherlock frowned and dropped the net on the table as if it had burned him.
“Come on,” John sighed and opened the fridge, thoroughly examining the agar plates Sherlock had started to keep there again. “It’s almost the same.”
“No.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“Fine,” John muttered, taking back the oranges, “I’ll give them to Mrs Hudson. I’m sure there’s a blood orange-soufflé or something she can make.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” John frowned thoughtfully, “Perhaps she can do something else with them?”
“Or I can just eat them, I suppose.” Sherlock dropped down on the nearest chair.
“How magnanimous of you,” John handed them back to him and began putting the food into the fridge, “Oh, Molly says hi, I ran into her at lunch today.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Sherlock wondered without looking up from the orange he had carefully started to peel.
“You know she’s pregnant?”
Sherlock glared at him, obviously deeming him an idiot. John sighed with a smile and threw an empty bag at him – it almost hit him.
“They haven’t found out,” John said as he started on the last bag.
“Why not?”
“Want it to be a surprise. Bit of a mystery,” John shrugged.
“It’s going to be one of two things,” Sherlock snorted, “That can hardly count as a huge mystery.”
“That’s narrow-minded of you.”
“I suppose you can argue there are more alternatives,” Sherlock admitted, “but it’s not like they are going to notice that with an infant.”
“That’s not what I meant,” John reached for the empty bag again and made a new attempt to throw it at Sherlock. He was just as close – or just as far from – hitting him this time.
“What did you mean, then?”
“That every mystery in the world doesn’t have to live up to the Sherlock Holmes-standard,” John chuckled, starting to clean up Sherlock’s peels.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and put an orange piece in John’s mouth.
“You’re right,” John said in slight disgust, “This isn’t close to a real orange.”
“I’m always right,” Sherlock smirked and reached for some paper towels.
“No, you’re not.”
“Perhaps not, but I do know oranges.”
“Write it up and put it next to your analysis of tobacco ashes,” John teased, throwing away what was left of the blood orange. “Tea?”
“I want real oranges.”
“Don’t pout,” John smirked. Sherlock glared at him and got to his feet, picking up both the violin and the melody again.
John took that as yes to the tea and put on the kettle. Humming along with Sherlock’s melody he put sugar in one of the mugs and realised something; earlier today when he’d answered Molly’s “How are you and Sherlock?” with his usual “Fine”, he probably had been telling the truth.
No, he had been telling the truth.
The insight took his breath away and he looked at Sherlock who had walked out to the sitting room. Quietly John followed with the tea, placing Sherlock’s mug on the mantelpiece.
“I’ll go buy you real oranges when I’ve finished the tea,” he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the violin, and managed to kiss Sherlock’s cheek.
The melody got slightly interrupted, but Sherlock smirked and kept playing. John sat down in his chair, cherishing the sound of music in the flat again. They were back to their version of normal.
For now.
-x-
Please read the notes for the last part.
Epilogue: Putting on the oxygen mask