Watson is woken up by some drilling noises. He looks at the alarm clock and it's only 7 AM. 'On a bloody Saturday!', he thinks sleepy and annoyed. He tries to sit up hastily, but his sore shoulders and hurting arms keep him trapped in the sheets a bit longer. Once he manages to throw something over and walk downstairs, he comes by the bathroom, to find Sherlock working there with power tools. "What the hell are you doing?", he shouts, still quiet tired and moody. "Oh, hello John," Sherlock answers him cheerfully, "and good morning to you! What do you think of it?" "Of what?", John asks confused, but then he sees that Sherlock quasi remodeled the entire bathroom. Well, to a certain manageable degree.
They now have two bathroom mirrors with outlets for electrical cords on either side, multiple shelves for storage of bits like razors or toothbrushes, towel holders on both sides too, plus extra hooks on the wall. But the most notable thing was, apart from the dust due to constructing, the bathroom was amazingly clean. John is taken aback by this and he respectively wonders: "Sherlock, did you do all this by yourself last night?" "Well, yes. You like it?", he asked curiously. "Yeah. Nice. Wow.", John is still bewildered. Then Sherlock steps out of the bath to usher him in and says: "Well, enjoy, I'll make breakfast." And he closes the door. John is puzzled as to what made his friend do that, but then realizes he has to pee. And that it's visible. Turning bright red he locks the door, just in case, to go about his business.
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When John finishes, again straining the aching muscles, he exits to find Sherlock actually did make breakfast. "Okay, what the devil are you up to? First redecorating and now this? Which cup contains the poison?", he pries suspicious, once he sits down at the, again incredibly clean, kitchen table. "Oh, probably all, I threw out all the gush we had and made a stew from what was left. And since we were out of tea, I just stuffed some maple leaves in a tampon and let it sit in the kettle.", his friend replies with a sardonic grin. "Yuck Sherlock, that was gross even by your standards!", John laughs, as he almost swallows his perfectly brewed Earl Grey the wrong way. 'Sherlock even added the right amount of milk, how nice. Jup, something is definitely up!', he tells himself.
"Oh come on, why is that grosser than the head in the fridge or the eyes in the kettle, or the...", Sherlock lists, but John cuts him of: "I get it, Sherlock!" "I mean they are just as good as any other leaves!", his friend states. John looks at him with wide eyes. When he snaps out of it with a laugh, he says: "No you twit, it's the tampon bit that's gross." "Oh. Okay. Well it's not like I would take used ones. That would be teatime for a vampire.", Sherlock muses. "Still icky.", John insists. "What's icky about a new tampon? Aren't they just sterilized cotton balls with a string on them?", Sherlock ponders confused. "Yeah but...well...well they...", John is suddenly dumbfounded. He decides to change the subject.
"Okay, so what is really the deal? You aren't usually the homely type, nor the nurturing kind, and certainly not the comedian, so what happened?", he demands. Sherlock seems lost in thought, but then answers: "Well I made life harder for you by driving your nurse away, I should make it easier again by helping you cope with your disability at home. So I've given you more options to place your belongings in the bathroom, since your favorite hand is disabled at the moment and you find it hard to keep up your normal routine."
John considers this. The part of him being disabled, he didn't like to hear. 'It's not like I'm completely helpless. And yes, Sherlock's driven nurse Sadie away. And a shame too, she was quiet a looker...', he ponders, 'But would that really account for such a huge amount of work on his side? No. Couldn't be that simple.' "I get it now," John suddenly realizes, half proud and half angered, "this is gonna be one of your social experiments, isn't it?" Sherlock looks at him with a mixture of sheepish excuses and deep hurt, explaining: "Well I hadn't intended for it to be so, but since you need to be tidied up for that meeting you so eagerly want to attend..."
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
He leaves the sentence hanging. John at first doesn't realize what he means. But then it dawns on him. "Oh no!", he says hasty, "I'm fine, I'll wash and get dressed myself thank you, I am not gonna let you be my new nurse!" And with that he staggers to his room, trying to ignore that, despite Sherlock's breakfast consisting mainly of things already cut down to size, repeatedly moving the fork to his mouth has worn him out a bit. He curses to himself: 'Damn painkillers don't do jack for me, though I already hit the max. dosage.'
John gets his clothes ready and, keeping them tightly pinned under his right arm, makes for the stairs again. But he nearly falls the last two steps, waving the unbandaged arm, dropping his things, and falling straight into Sherlock's arms. Who replaces him gently to the floor, only to pick up his clothes for him. Then he looks at him matter-of-fact and reminds him: "Look John, if you need help, there is no shame in asking!" "Says the man who will always barge into a situation alone, because he's above it all!", John snaps back, embarrassed, and gets to the bathroom.
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The extra hooks and shelves actually make it easier for him to place his clothes, but the fall really hurt, and it feels like he pulled something. Brushing his teeth with the electric toothbrush went okay, but already when he's trying to take off his pj's, he finds himself in trouble. The arms hurt so much, every move is a painful jerk into just one direction at once. And so it doesn't take long until he stumbles, falling against the door, unable to catch himself. It made a loud bang, and while John is holding back tears and a scream from the pain, he hears Sherlock on the other side, calling: "John? John can you hear me?" He even sounds worried. As he's still biting back the hurt, John's unable to answer, and is shocked, when he hears Sherlock picking the lock to open the door.
"What...the hell...Shsherlock!?", he curses, "I could be naked,... dammit!" But the detective just gives back: "You could be dead too! Or unconscious. Come, I'll help you up." This calms the doctor down, though his pain is still imminent. Sherlock carefully sits him on the toilet lid, and starts to open his pajama shirt. "You know, if you slept naked, you would save yourself some trouble in the morning, getting out of this.", his friend calmly delivers. John looks at him with shock and answers: "Certainly not! I'm not gonna run around the apartment with no clothes on, like you! Noone needs to see that!" Just then, Sherlock is finished with his top and giving him a long look clarifies: "I'll see you naked in a minute anyways. Your arms are still in no condition to do their work."
John stares at him, and turning red stutters: "Whoa, no, no way Sherlock! I... I'm fine, I'll get the rest myself." But the detective just crosses his arms and demands: "Prove it!" John raises an eyebrow, and Sherlock adds: "Take off your pants. If you can do that, I'll leave." "Excuse me? What the... No way, I'm not stripping for you!", he shouts, panicked. "Come now, John, it should be easy enough, and if you manage that, I'll leave you alone. But if you can't do it, you'll let me help you!”, the detective insists, "I'll turn around if you need that, but I'm not going anywhere, before you show me that you can do it yourself." And to prove his point, he turns his back to him.
John is dumbfounded, but then he gets up, angry, and tries to reach down... but the pain is too great, his arm can't pull, it even hurts just closing his fist around the fabric. It also makes no difference whether he stands up, or sits down, moving just hurts. Then he gives it a last try, standing up and raising one leg, to use his foot, grabbing the pj's leg with his toes, but he loses his balance and has to let himself fall back on the toilet. Frustrated, he gives up: "Alright, you win! Now help me, you... genius." So Sherlock does get to wash John. He thinks it is okay, but John blushes when his willy is cleaned. After he's dressed, he's quick to leave.
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