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“Where do you want the boxes for the kitchen stuff to go?”
Sherlock looked up from where he currently stood, in the middle of the new flat–surrounded by boxes. It was certainly a spacious place, but it seemed to be ever more cramped with every box Jim’s “friends” brought through the door.
The small Irishman hadn’t lifted a single finger, just following his brutes up and down the stairs to make sure everything was done right. Exactly right. Nothing was to break or fall or be placed in the wrong spot.
Sherlock looked about at the various boxes with scrawled writing from both Jim and himself.
“Uhm…” Sherlock looked around clueless, there really wasn’t a good space for the kitchen stuff. “Just…I…I don’t know.”
Jim looked around the flat, “Well, what about there?” He gestured to a seemingly empty space behind Sherlock’s current position.
“That is where my chair is going.”
“Ah…hm.” Jim’s eyes swept the room again, they certainly had more than enough stuff, between the two of them. Jim had offered to spring for a large estate, but Sherlock’s heart was happy nestled in the throb of the city. So a flat, in the niecest part of London, would have to suffice for now.
However…that did leave them scrambling for space.
“Your chair goes there…mine goes next to it?” Sherlock nodded, “So the sofa…goes there…” Jim turned in a slow circle, rubbing his temples a bit. “What about there, next to those boxes? Your books?”
Sherlock turned, tilting his head, “Oh, no. No, it can’t go there. That’s where the–”
“Bedroom! Right, that’s bedroom boxes.” Jim sighed and huffed, folding his arms as he tried to think. His brutes shifting from foot to foot as they held the boxes in question and waited.
“Could we…stack them there?” Sherlock waved to a spot near the table. “I mean…it’s not ideal to get around–”
“Where will we put the dining chairs, dear?”
Sherlock sighed and shrugged, Jim sighed as well. His brutes fidgeted further, not helping the two irritated geniuses. The clinking of dishes in the boxes wasn’t helping them try and sort this out.
“Just put them somewhere!”
“Everywhere has been designated!”
Sherlock threw his hands up as Jim rounded on his brutes, “What are you doing? Can’t you hold a damn box without making so much racket?!”
The brutes just stood there, not bothered by the shouting or the turn on them. It had happened frequently enough throughout the day to know that this was hardly the last time they’d face a screaming Moriarty. They just sighed in tandem…then set the boxes down just inside the door and tromped off to have their smoke break.
“What?! Where are you going!? Hey!” Jim cursed at their retreating backs. “Can’t find good help these days…” He grumbled as he turned back around to resume the debate with Sherlock.
However, Sherlock was already staring at the placement of the boxes. “That…works.”
Jim frowned and looked back at the boxes just inside the door. He opened his mouth…then shut it again. “It does…actually…”
Both hummed a moment, then smiled faintly. Sherlock crossed the floor to follow after the brutes. He gave Jim a quick peck on the cheek as he went by. “Sort out the bookshelf by subject, I’ll go get them back to work…”