literature

Sherlock- Box

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Literature Text

John blinked at the box in the middle of the floor. It was fresh, new. The label on the side was addressed to Speedy's café, so John knew it wasn't originally meant to be in the flat. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't randomly leave a box in the middle of the floor, and John definitely hadn't had anything to do with it, so that left Sherlock.

As far as things Sherlock brought back to the apartment, a cardboard box was mundane, at best. That was part of what worried John. He moved to examine the box, speculating as to what could be inside.

The first thing that he noted was that it was upside down. The bottom of the box, which was now the top, was still sealed with packing tape. Closer examination showed that the tape across the top of the box (now tucked underneath) had been peeled off, so the only opening was at the bottom. This also meant that it had been opened, which reduced the fear that Sherlock was stealing a café's mail.

With a huff, John plopped down in his chair, staring at the box as he dug his phone out of his pocket. When it came to strange things in the apartment, he'd learned to consult the detective first before examining them. It prevented chemical burns and rabid squirrels going for his jugular (that had been an interesting day. John had spent the rest of it sitting in the direct center of his bed wielding a cricket bat while Sherlock tried to recapture the thing).

To: Sherlock
What's in the box?

He hit send. After a moment, a small text tone sounded in the room. John frowned, checking that the detective wasn't lying on the sofa and the soldier had overlooked him. The couch was empty, as was the detective's chair. He craned around to look into the kitchen, but that, too, was vacant.

John's eyes rested on the box. He stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked away, into the corner of the room, thinking.

Sherlock Holmes was eccentric, clearly. But… seriously? He wouldn't…

Would he?

"Are…" John pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "Are you in the box, Sherlock?"

There was an annoyed, muffled huff as an answer. Definitely coming from the box. Dear Lord, what the hell was he doing now?

John stared at the box for a few more moments before reaching a foot out and nudging it. It gave only slightly, as if it were weighted so that it wouldn't tip. So there was definitely something in there. Something (probably an elbow) thumped the inside of the box moodily, and John removed his foot, letting the box fall back to its normal position.

"… Is there a reason you're in a box?" John tried. There was, again, no response. The doctor wondered if enough air was getting in through the cracks to prevent asphyxiation, and he figured he'd rather be safe than sorry.

"One thump if you need help, two if you're fine and if you don't respond I'm coming in." John said, leaning forward in the chair and placing his elbows on his knees.

There was a grumble and the side of the box was thumped two times.

John snorted slightly. He was in a box. Sherlock bloody Holmes was sitting under a cardboard box. The utter WTF-ery of the moment was utterly hilarious, but John managed to keep himself composed.

"Would you like some tea under there?" He asked, amusement seeping through his voice.

A pause, and then a thump.

"Does that mean yes?" He inquired.

Another thump.

"That's not helping." John bit his lip to keep in a laugh.

"You're disturbing my mind palace," Growled the box.

This did bring a laugh from the doctor and it was a moment before he could reign himself back in. "Your mind palace is a cardboard box?"

"No," the voice said slowly, as if to a child, yet still irate at John's bothering him. "My mind palace is in my mind, hence the name. The box is a thinking technique I'm testing, and it would help if you don't interfere with the results."

John furrowed his brows slightly in amusement. "Okay, so basically don't do this, then?" He gave the box a good tip with his foot and the lanky detective scrabbled within, swearing.

"Yes! That!" Sherlock spat vehemently from behind the cardboard.

"Yes? So I should keep doing this?" John was grinning madly. He jogged the box forward and back with his foot repeatedly.

"Stop that! Stop that now!" Cried the box in rage. "Stop that or I swear I will put a cadaver in your bed!"

John let the box settle again. As much as he loved bothering his flatmate, he much more enjoyed not having a dead body in his room.

"You still haven't explained why you're in the box," John put his foot down, reducing the impulse to kick the box periodically.

There was a heavy sigh. "If I explain will you leave?"

"Possibly," John answered with a grin.

There was a moment of silence as the man considered, then he started to talk.

"I think best in a controlled environment. The fewer distractions, the freer my brain is to process information. Darkness and enclosed spaces have usually worked best. It's impossible to easily enclose the sitting room, and my bedroom is also large, and both rooms have windows and doors that would let in an irritating amount of light. So, simple solution; create an enclosed environment. This-" there was the sound of something patting the cardboard from within, "is a prototype. I'd probably create something more elegant in time. Probably soundproof, too." His voice gained a hint of annoyance.

As Sherlock was talking, John stood, walking around the box innocently. He stood beside it, now, looking down at the cardboard thinking space.

"Brilliant," He grinned devilishly, though the detective couldn't see it.

There was a confused pause. "Really?" Sherlock asked in the childlike way he got sometimes under praise.

"Absolutely." John lifted one foot. "There's just one flaw in your design."

"What's that?" Sherlock asked curiously.

John planted his foot on the upper edge of the box and in one swift movement, tipped it over with the detective still inside.

In hindsight, John still stood by his view that it was worth the body parts that kept showing up under his covers.
So, apparently in the original Hound of Baskerville, Sherlock talks about the possibility of just sitting in a box to think. So... yeah. Have a Sherlock in a box. Happy late Valentines day to all the fangirls.

He's kind of tucked the flaps in under him, so he's effectively closed in. if anyone was worried about the physics. He decided to to that so no light would get in.
© 2012 - 2024 blueskysummer
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guard1ans's avatar
this made me have a coughing fit after laughing so hard