Sherlock and The Woman

Virginity Is Dead

14. Virginity is dead

As John dropped by for a quick visit the following day, he was surprised to be greeted by two frozen, severed head upon the kitchen table. Thankfully, the heads were wrapped in plastic bags, but on the stove something boiled that smelled like old feet. The doctor kept his distance as he walked into the living room to find it empty.

"Ah, John," the detective greeted as he exited his bedroom, dressed sharply in a dark suit and pale-blue shirt. "Could you take one of those heads home with you and place in your bathtub? It's for a very important experiment on decay."

"What?" the doctor asked with wide eyes. "That would stink up the entire flat. We wouldn't be able to live in it for a while, you know."

"Mm, yes," Sherlock nodded and moved over to the stove as if his friend's implication was lost on him.

John bit back a retort, knowing it would be pointless anyway, and exhaled slowly as he gained control of his thoughts. "... What's with all the experiments today? You usually stick to one experiment at a time. Except for that time you decided to dry human tongues and withered roses at the same time. You called it multitasking, if I remember correctly."

"Hmm," the tall man began in a high-key note as he stirred the contents of the pot around. "I awoke this morning with a lot of ideas."

"… Any particular reason for that?"

"Not really," Sherlock shook his head brusquely.

"Is Irene still asleep?" John asked and turned in the direction of the closed door. The detective nodded. "Would you like some coffee? Do you think she'll awake any time soon to join us? Or should I wake her?"

"Do," the man flashed him a quick grin. "That reminds me. I'd better email Lestrade about the solution to this smaller case I'd been working."

"Ah, so you've solved that, too, before lunch?" the blond man grinned in amazement. It had been a long time since he saw his friend so invigorated. There was definitely something different with him this morning, though John wasn't sure what could have caused it. Usually only nicotine patches or a good serial killer got him so excited, but neither were the answer this time. Maybe Mrs Hudson's energetic dancing last night had given the man fresh energy.

--

Sherlock's high, of course, didn't last long. Not thirty minutes later, after having sent his email to Lestrade and Irene had woken up, the man stood with his coffee mug by the window looking down on the pedestrians below with dreary eyes. The liquid in his cup had gone cold long ago.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?" John asked from his armchair as he noticed the impassiveness on his friend's face. He glanced behind him at the cleaned kitchen, from which he could still smell a faint odor. "No more experiments to do?"

The detective's sigh seemed to vibrate from the bottom of an abyss as he replied in a low, dull voice. "No. I'm bored."

"Maybe you just need to channel your brilliance," Irene cooed from where she sat behind the desk and the detective's laptop. The dark-haired man glanced at her from the corner of her eyes and she smirked widely.

"I need to be inspired first," Sherlock replied dryly.

"Oh, I can think of plenty of ways to inspire," the woman didn't miss a beat.

"What I need is a case."

Irene took a sip from her coffee and then frowned up at the man. "I thought you had just solved one."

John looked over and frantically shook his head. "Don't go there."

"That was hours ago!" The detective sighed in exasperation and began to pace the room back and forth, discarding his cup on the desk. "I need a challenge! I'm bored! Find me something to do!"