forum Love is an incredibly curious thing indeed. (Sherlock one on one) (Closed!)

Started May 30, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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"Do you want to do something?" he asked John.

“We might as well. Do you?”

"I suppose so. It doesn't really matter where we go." Sherlock said, absentmindedly.

“Would you like to eat? You never had dinner.” He observed.

"I'm not hungry. Do you want to get something?" he said.

John glanced over at Sherlock. “I’m not hungry either.”

"Hmm. I'll surprise you. Come on!" he said, taking John's hand and pulling him along.

“Alright?” John scrunched his face in confusion, but slowly began to show a faint grin. He quickly looked for a moment at their intertwined hands as Sherlock continued to drag him.

Sherlock stopped at a craft store. He browsed through aisles of colored paper, and then asked "Blue or green?"

John kept the confused look upon his face as he followed Sherlock into a craft store. “What are we doing?” He asked, ignoring his previous question.

"I'm showing you my hobby. Blue or green?" he asked, holding two packages of paper.

“Blue.” He responded with drawn together eyebrows.

Sherlock went up to the register and paid for the paper. "Should we go back to the flat?" he asked John, once they left the store.

(Sorry I disappeared again. I had to do something.)

John nodded, still perplexed. “Sure.”

Sherlock waved for a cab, a few minutes later they were back at the flat. Sherlock went inside.

“Alright. Now, what in the world are we doing?” He asked as he followed Sherlock back into the flat.

"This." he said, folding some paper into a small paper flower.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” He inquired, picking up the paper flower and examining it.

Sherlock gave a loud cough that sounded suspiciously like "Youtube" and went back to folding.

John gave Sherlock a quizzical look. “Are you sure your okay?” After a few minutes he began to wonder. Is he uneasy about something? No, there’s nothing to be uneasy about. Why then?

"The term "Okay" is incredibly vague. I wouldn't describe myself with it." Sherlock muttered.

His eyebrows drew together once again. “Mm.” He grunted. “What’s wrong?” He asked, not able to hold back his concern and curiosity.

"Nothing. I'm a high functioning sociopath, what do you expect?" Sherlock asked.

“Not paper flowers.” John said with an amused inflection.

"What? I enjoy it. Is that a problem?" Sherlock asked, an army of paper cranes scattered across the table.