This is not exactly like my usual posts, but I thought the events of today were worth writing down, so here it is. Sherlock, his brother, Lestrade and I are eating pineapple pie right now and it's one of the strangest situations I've found myself in since moving with Sherlock. Which says something about my current life, I suppose.
The case was particularly strange (I won't be writing it down like I usually do, you'll see why). We were tracking down the man who Sherlock had deduced was the killer (a rather gruesome ordeal, I won't give you any more details) and ended up in the pub he frequented. Sherlock insisted we had to “act natural” or something like that, so we ordered a couple pints as we waited for the man to show up. Turns out this wasn't one of his best ideas and, by the time our suspect arrived 4 hours later, we were positively sloshed.
And that's the last thing I remember.
I wake up today and go to the sitting room, just to find a pile of my damp clothes and Sherlock sleeping on the couch, stripped down to his trousers and sporting a wonderful black-eye and something like a dog collar around his neck. There's mud everywhere and a pineapple on the coffee table.
So, obviously, I go make tea. I had no idea what had happened, but Sherlock sleeps so little, I didn't want to wake him up to ask him. Whenever we get back from a case he eats half the kitchen and then crashes down for at least 20 hours (I guess that's his way of compensating). Also, his hangover would be legendary.
I decided to call Lestrade. He told me we called him at 2 am after catching the suspect. Turns out we were somewhere in Kew when they found us. I was wrestling the suspect inside the Thames while Sherlock yelled completely useless orders from the shore. Yes, Sherlock was already half-naked, black-eyed and collared. No, he doesn't know why and we refused to explain at the time. No, he doesn't know anything about a pineapple and he think it's probably not evidence, but one never really knows with Sherlock.
I woke up Sherlock after that, too confused to care about his health at that point, but he forced me into the bathroom before giving me any answers because I “smelled like rotten fish”. Not like talking helped any since, I discovered later, he didn't remember much more than I did. He didn't seem to mind the black-eye, but his reaction to the collar was priceless. I was making some tea when he asked about the pineapple. I told him I thought it was his, but he said he didn't know anything about it. None of us know where it came from.
Sherlock's brother came by a couple hours later. I was cleaning the sitting room and Sherlock was staring at the pineapple as if his hangover were its fault. He looked very smug but only asked about the case, so we had to prompt him to tell us what he obviously knew about last night. He said we were seen leaving the first pub by one of his minions (he didn't call them that, but they are minions). The suspect had left almost as soon as he had appeared and Sherlock deduced he was going to some kind of fetish club. Sherlock decided we needed disguises and bought a dog collar he then attempted to make me wear to pretend I was the submissive part of the relationship. I punched him in the face and told him there was no bloody way I was the submissive and that he should wear it instead, and now I'm regretting I wasn't conscious enough to remember punching Sherlock in the face. I'll have to do it again. When we were in the club, Sherlock tried to attack the suspect with a 9-tail-whip, but confused him for another man dressed very similarly and wearing the same mask. The suspect noticed and ran, so we chased him to the Thames. He can't explain the pineapple either.
So here we are. We asked Mrs Hudson, but she didn't know anything about the pineapple. She did say that, as we weren't using it, she'd take it. Lestrade showed up a little after. My call had left him confused and he wanted to know if we were okay. Plus, he couldn't miss the chance to see Sherlock in a dog collar. Mrs Hudson returned with a pineapple pie and now we're all eating. And the case will make history as the first time Sherlock Holmes was beaten by a tropical fruit.
[FILL] The Case of the Mysterious Pineapple - pt1/2
The Case of the Mysterious Pineapple
This is not exactly like my usual posts, but I thought the events of today were worth writing down, so here it is. Sherlock, his brother, Lestrade and I are eating pineapple pie right now and it's one of the strangest situations I've found myself in since moving with Sherlock. Which says something about my current life, I suppose.
The case was particularly strange (I won't be writing it down like I usually do, you'll see why). We were tracking down the man who Sherlock had deduced was the killer (a rather gruesome ordeal, I won't give you any more details) and ended up in the pub he frequented. Sherlock insisted we had to “act natural” or something like that, so we ordered a couple pints as we waited for the man to show up. Turns out this wasn't one of his best ideas and, by the time our suspect arrived 4 hours later, we were positively sloshed.
And that's the last thing I remember.
I wake up today and go to the sitting room, just to find a pile of my damp clothes and Sherlock sleeping on the couch, stripped down to his trousers and sporting a wonderful black-eye and something like a dog collar around his neck. There's mud everywhere and a pineapple on the coffee table.
So, obviously, I go make tea. I had no idea what had happened, but Sherlock sleeps so little, I didn't want to wake him up to ask him. Whenever we get back from a case he eats half the kitchen and then crashes down for at least 20 hours (I guess that's his way of compensating). Also, his hangover would be legendary.
I decided to call Lestrade. He told me we called him at 2 am after catching the suspect. Turns out we were somewhere in Kew when they found us. I was wrestling the suspect inside the Thames while Sherlock yelled completely useless orders from the shore. Yes, Sherlock was already half-naked, black-eyed and collared. No, he doesn't know why and we refused to explain at the time. No, he doesn't know anything about a pineapple and he think it's probably not evidence, but one never really knows with Sherlock.
I woke up Sherlock after that, too confused to care about his health at that point, but he forced me into the bathroom before giving me any answers because I “smelled like rotten fish”. Not like talking helped any since, I discovered later, he didn't remember much more than I did. He didn't seem to mind the black-eye, but his reaction to the collar was priceless. I was making some tea when he asked about the pineapple. I told him I thought it was his, but he said he didn't know anything about it. None of us know where it came from.
Sherlock's brother came by a couple hours later. I was cleaning the sitting room and Sherlock was staring at the pineapple as if his hangover were its fault. He looked very smug but only asked about the case, so we had to prompt him to tell us what he obviously knew about last night. He said we were seen leaving the first pub by one of his minions (he didn't call them that, but they are minions). The suspect had left almost as soon as he had appeared and Sherlock deduced he was going to some kind of fetish club. Sherlock decided we needed disguises and bought a dog collar he then attempted to make me wear to pretend I was the submissive part of the relationship. I punched him in the face and told him there was no bloody way I was the submissive and that he should wear it instead, and now I'm regretting I wasn't conscious enough to remember punching Sherlock in the face. I'll have to do it again. When we were in the club, Sherlock tried to attack the suspect with a 9-tail-whip, but confused him for another man dressed very similarly and wearing the same mask. The suspect noticed and ran, so we chased him to the Thames.
He can't explain the pineapple either.
So here we are. We asked Mrs Hudson, but she didn't know anything about the pineapple. She did say that, as we weren't using it, she'd take it. Lestrade showed up a little after. My call had left him confused and he wanted to know if we were okay. Plus, he couldn't miss the chance to see Sherlock in a dog collar. Mrs Hudson returned with a pineapple pie and now we're all eating. And the case will make history as the first time Sherlock Holmes was beaten by a tropical fruit.