Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

She'll Kill You

'You two are going to the hospital,' John decided as he examined his friends in the theatre.

'Dot be ridiculous, I'm fine,' Sherlock spat angrily.

John pointed his finger at his flatmate. 'You could have a concussion and Clara needs her ribs checked out.'

'We are fine,' Clara said.

'No, you two are definitely not fine. Look, just a check up at the hospital and then you can leave.' Clara scrunched up her nose. She didn't like hospitals all that much. Too much disinfectant and not enough windows. However, John seemed final on this idea. One thing he was good at, was ordering people around. Well, maybe not Sherlock but he seemed awfully cooperative when he heard that Clara need her ribs checked out.

'But you're a doctor,' Clara protested as they walked out into the chilly night air.

'Well we don't have an X-ray machine in our flat, do we?'

'Traitor,' she muttered murderously. Usually John had her side, aka, whenever she was arguing or complaining about Sherlock. Which was a lot mind you. 'Let's make a deal. If I can walk to the closest cab I don't have to go to hospital, deal?'

John sucked on his teeth. Clara raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

'Oh for gods sake!' Sherlock sighed loudly.

.

After the stalemate (that would have lasted eons if the two weren't dragged away by a pissed off detective), the three sat brooding in 221b. Sherlock was dejected after the failed attempt at catching the Golem. There was a three metre space around him that oozed with anger. Clara looked at the mess of papers on the wall. There had to be something connecting it all, there had to be something at the end of all of this great game. 'Why did you move to London?' John asked form his chair.

Clara pursed her lips. She was rather surprised by the question. She smiled over shed shoulder. 'Change of scenery, I guess.'

'Her mother died,' Sherlock snapped from his corner of misery.

Clara frowned. John opened his mouth in shock. 'Sherlock!'

The boys were battling with murderous glares. 'It's true, but that was a while back.' She heaved a sigh. 'I wanted to stay and look after dad but he refused to let that happen.' She smiled wistfully. 'So I came here to London looking for a job, and I guess I have one. Though not my first idea.' She gave a pointed look at John and they shared a grin.

A phone blipped and Sherlock jumped up. He growled in irritation when he saw Clara pull out her phone from her pocket. 'Wow, she's up late,' Clara murmured. She tapped away on her phone rather slowly.

'Whose that?' John asked innocently.

'Molly. She just finished work and want to go out for drinks. Do you want to come?'

Sherlock narrowed his gaze at Clara. 'Why is Molly texting you?'

Clara's eyes wandered round the room. 'Because we're friends now...?'

'Since when?!'

Clara frowned. 'Why are you so concerned? Mycroft introduced us after...going to Janus Cars.' She had to think on it for a minute before answering. 'She really is quite nice you know.' Sherlock made some kind of noise in response. His eyes flicked to the papers about Clara on the wall. Now that wasn't something he had been expecting. Clara and Molly, apparently two peas in a pod.

'Well I'm going for drinks with Molly and if you two want to come you can.' She wrote the address of the pub on a sticky note and slapped it onto the wall. Clara trudged down the steps. Oscar hissed loudly at Sherlock and clawed his pant leg before racing off.

'John...' Sherlock said looking at the cat with the strangest expression.

The doctor looked around then shook his head. 'No...no don't you dare. She'll kill you.' But Sherlock was already rushing to the kitchen.

.

'It better wake up before she comes back...' John muttered staring at Oscar, the abnormally large cat. The animal was on its back with its paws frozen in the air. It's face was slack with a large pink tongue hanging out. It was drooling on the carpet. A door banged from downstairs and John swore. 'Wake it up Sherlock!' He urged.

But Sherlock was playing on his violin, a very happy jig sounded around the room. He was almost smiling, footsteps thumped up the stairs. Sherlock finished his song and relished the yell from Clara. 'What have you done to my cat?!' She shrieked and went down on her knees next to the animal. 'YOU'VE KILLED HIM!'

'Oh hardly,' Sherlock drawled in response. John prodded the animal with pen. Oscar's head rolled to the side making Clara moan in despair even more.

'Sherlock Holmes you better fix this or you are going to wish you have never been born,' Clara threatened from the side of her beloved pet. Her eyes were dangerously dark.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, like it was an effort to answer. He walked over and pulled a thin tendered from his jacket pocket. In a swift movement he strapped it into the thigh of the cat. Clara let out a yell as the needle went in with no mercy. Clara looked desperately between the cat and Sherlock. Nothing happened. 'Sherlock, -' John started.

'Give it a minute...' Sherlock said through his gritted teeth. And just like that, Oscar jumped up like he had been electrified. He hissed and yowled at everyone before racing upstairs.

'What did you do?!' Clara demanded, brushing off her knees.

Sherlock flicked his hand at her. 'Just an experiment.'

'You killed my cat!'

'Well he didn't look dead when he raced upstairs.' Sherlock frowned and turned to John. 'Don't they have nine lives or something?'

Before the doctor could answer Clara lifted up her purse and hit Sherlock with it. 'Don't-whack-you-whack-ever-whack-do-whack-that-whack-AGAIN!'