Character(s): Holmes, Watson
Summary: Holmes prognosticates
Author's Notes: BBC Sherlock-verse. Fill for July 20th prompt: "Watson's terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day"
Word Count: 314
A few years ago, Sherlock might have said something, but by now he knew John well enough to keep his mouth shut. Inexplicable moods descend suddenly on everyone—himself more than most, perhaps—and John’s this morning was particularly severe. Sherlock would have known without evidence that it would not lift easily; his overservations of his flatmate’s recent mishaps only added to his certainty: the nick in his chin from shaving, the bruise on his shin from tripping over a laptop cord and sending himself (as well as the computer) flying. The angry beeps that the laptop gave off when John then turned it on did not say anything good about the state of its hardware, and surely the coffee spill on his shirt could not be comfortable. Yet, despite all this, John still sang under his breath as he walked, bounced on his heels as he waited for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. Nothing could darken his morning, it seemed, and Sherlock watched him curiously in an attempt to find out why. And then it came together—the sudden stinginess, the odd browser history, the little black box in John’s hand. Sherlock cursed internally. He had considered telling John for a while now that Martha was married, but after the whole Jim-from-IT debacle (but before its final conclusion) John had explained to him quite forcefully that these are things you just don’t tell people—no matter how right you are about it. And so he had kept quiet, and now John, poor fool, was going to make an ass of himself—or at least feel a right ass about it. The door shut behind him as he danced his way into the coming disappointment, and Sherlock made a mental note to get some alcohol—and ice cream, too, if he remembered his conventions correctly. John was going to have a very bad day.