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John Watson was officially a serial napper.
Mariana sighed, seeing the man sprawled out on the sofa, Come Dine With Me playing absently on the TV. He must have been sleeping for a while, Mariana knew, because John has never been a Come Dine With Me watcher. As far as she was aware anyway.
“John. John.” She said, trying to gauge how deep his sleep was. John’s chest rose and fell, unbothered.
Perfect.
‘Well, not exactly perfect.’ Mariana thought, placing John’s slippers on his belly, ‘But good enough.’
“What are you doing?”
Mariana yelped, quickly moving to make sure the items she’d placed didn’t fall off. “Sherlock, don’t scare me like that.” She hissed, quietly.
“Apologies. I ask again, what are you doing?” Sherlock inquired, standing at the foot of the sofa.
She paused, almost guilty, before emboldening herself with resolve. “Sometimes when I come to ask John if he has filled out the paperwork I asked him to, or something like that, he’s napping. He naps a lot , like a stupid amount. Him not doing what I need him to do annoys me, so sometimes when I catch him napping I stack things on top of him, take a picture, and put everything back before he can wake up.”
Sherlock hummed. “I see.”
“I know it’s a little childish, but I honestly have nothing better to do sometimes. He deserves it anyway. I’m planning on showing him the photos some day just to prove a point because he doesn’t think he naps that much.”
“May I see?”
“Hm?”
“The photos.” Sherlock explained. “May I see the photos?”
Mariana perked up, “Oh, sure! Just let me…”
Taking her phone out of her trouser pocket, she stood up and searched for the folder affectionately labelled ‘JPW’ with a heart next to it, quickly finding what she was looking for. She leaned towards Sherlock, angling her phone so they could both see easily.
“So this is from last Tuesday… this one is from the ninth I believe? Yes, the ninth. The first one was… October 27th. I should start writing down why I’m annoyed with him because I can’t really remember why I was so annoyed at him to begin with...” She tilted her head, thinking. “Nearing the end of the month so… no he’d already… oh! Right, I had asked him to-”
“The number of objects increases with each one.”
“Wha- Hm?”
Sherlock pointed. “In this first one, only four objects.” He swiped back, “Then here, seven.” Swiped, “Ten. But you’ve only placed eight objects on him now. Why?”
Switching off her phone, Mariana turned around to look at him properly. “Only eight so far, yes, because you interrupted me. I’m aiming for twelve this time.”
“Ah, of course. Please, feel free to continue.”
Mariana smiled, “I was going to anyway.”
Returning to her position by the sofa, she picked up John’s other slipper. “Oh- you can join, if you like?” She offered.
“No thank you. Much to do.” Sherlock replied, standing straighter.
“Seeing a man about a dog?” She smiled.
“No, I’m seeing a dog about a parking ticket. Good day.”
She blinked, “Sherlock-” The door was closed before she could ask further.
Sighing, Mariana carried on. “I guess I’ll find out later.” she muttered, balancing the slipper on John’s chest, and feeling utterly infantile.
“Sherlock and Co, Mariana speaking? Ah! Yes, of course. I am sure I sent that to you already?” She flicked back through her work diary, “Yes, I have it written here that I sent to you two weeks ago, on the sixth. You still do not have it, okay, I should be able to check the shipping information if you would wait a moment for me to pull it up? Thank you.”
Mariana scanned over her emails, before sighing, “I see the issue, the shipping people had to redirect for some reason. It says here you should get it on Tuesday? I am so sorry for the inconvenience, but unfortunately there is nothing we can do if the delivery company has delays. Haha, okay, thank you. Have a good day, goodbye!”
Clicking the phone back into place Mariana sighed, leaning back in her chair. If one more thing went wrong this week she was going to scream . So, naturally, Mariana picked up her phone to calm herself. Nothing bad ever happened on the internet.
There was a Whatsapp message in her notifications from Sherlock (very professionally named in her contacts as ‘Sherly’).
‘31’ The message read. ‘Your move.’
She blinked at the screen, before bursting into hysterics. Attached to the message was a picture of John, laying on his stomach, arm hanging off the side of the sofa. Laid out very neatly down his spine, in colour order, lay thirty one monopoly pieces.
‘Also we are missing one of the yellow houses.’ Read the message underneath.
After her giggling fit had died down, she sent back a reply. ‘It’s probably under the TV unit or sofa. If we don’t find it we don’t have to use yellow.’
Sherlock’s status changed to online, and bubbles appeared and disappeared a couple times before her phone started ringing
“Yes?” Mariana smiled into the receiver.
“John likes to play as yellow.” came the succinct reply.
“Okay, so find the piece that is missing, or John will have to be green.”
“What if we don’t find it and John does not wish to be green.”
She rolled her eyes, “Then he will have to put up with having one less house.” A pause. “Hello? Sherlock?”
“Very sneaky, Mrs Hudson. Very sneaky indeed. Practically cheating, putting him at such a disadvantage.”
“No!” She objected, realising. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m sure.” Sherlock replied, flatly.
Mariana laughed, before sobering up, “Also! Mr Holmes, just because you put on more items doesn’t mean you win by default. Those houses are super tiny! They’re the equivalent of, like, five custard creams.”
“I wasn’t aware spaniards did estimations via custard cream! Tell me, does the flavour of the biscuit impact matters? When estimating half a custard cream, does one separate the two halves or cut the entire biscuit in half?”
“Sherlock.” She complained.
“Yes, yes. I understand your meaning. Though it’s fourteen custard creams at least.” He muttered the last bit low.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Sherlock replied quickly. “I stand by what I have said. 31 to beat. Good day.”
The line cut off before she could get the next word out. ”Mother- mm… Okay.”
The game was most definitely afoot.
“I told you, the bots I get are ridiculous! Here, look at this one.” John turned his phone around and stretched his arm across the table.
Mariana squinted, “Send me two hundred pounds.”
“Not even trying to be subtle, that one! Absolutely ridiculous.” He shook his head.
“Let me see?” Sherlock asked, and John angled the phone to show him. “That’s me.”
“What?” John said.
“That’s my account. ‘Jbailey1110933’, that’s my username.”
John made a baffled noise, “Bailey’s not even your name!”
“Of course it isn’t.” Sherlock sat up a little straighter, “I use it to research clients, suspects of crime, anyone I wish. I never use my real name online.”
“Very safe of you, Sherlock.” Mariana commented, “But, to anyone else using Twitter, you just look like a spam bot account.”
He frowned, “What would be the purpose of that?”
“Scamming money out of people? Making them download viruses, that sort of thing.” John said. “So when you, a random account with no profile picture or banner, message me and comment under my posts asking for money, it makes me want to block you.”
Sherlock took his phone out of his pocket, “You blocked me?”
“Well no, not yet. I was about to though.”
“Hm. You raise a good point. I’ll have to add some personality to my profile.” He stared at his phone for a moment, before frowning. “Your account is permanently suspended.”
“What?” John leaned towards him, before laughing, “Even Twitter thinks you’re a bot!”
Mariana was chuckling, “I’m surprised it hadn’t suspended you already.”
“Yes, well.” he leaned back in his seat, “This explains a lot of things.”
“Yeah, let’s call it a learning experience, hey bud.” John grinned.
“Toilet.”
“Gonna have to make a new- huh?
“Go to the toilet, Watson.” Sherlock said, exasperated. “Your fidgeting is distracting. You last went to the toilet one and a half hours ago. That is below the average time needed between toilet visits, but as you suffer from anxiety and other such problems, it is to be expected that you feel a need to empty your bladder in more regular intervals. Go.”
“Well then, someone’s mardy.” John laughed, looking at Mariana. “Doctor’s orders. Well I mean, I’m the doctor here so, really it should be patients orders. The patient is always right! Except for when they aren’t, of course, and are doing experiments on themselves to prove whether-”
“Just go!” Mariana complained.
“Right, right, yep. Nipping to the loo now. Be back soon, don’t have too much fun without me! Haha.” John’s mutterings to himself about how he ‘doesn’t suffer from anxiety’ and that ‘everyone is a little anxious sometimes, it’s normal’ quickly faded into the background noise of the Volunteer as he left.
Mariana hunched over the table as soon as his form disappeared from sight. “Cheater.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Cheater!” She shoved her phone in Sherlock’s face, “Want to tell me what is wrong with this image, Sherlock?”
He scanned over the photo displayed. “I don’t see any issue here, other than that I am in the lead and you aren’t.”
Mariana grinned, “Ah ah, no. Tell me, when did you take this photo?”
“2am.” He replied. “I was about to go to bed.”
“ Exactly .”
Sherlock waited for her to continue. “What?”
“It was two in the morning when you sent this, so he is not napping, he's sleeping!”
“And this is a problem?
Mariana nodded, “A big problem.”
“How?”
“Because, the rules of the game are that he has to be caught napping , not sleeping.”
“Well.” He replied, shortly. “What constitutes a nap?”
“A nap is done during the day and, by your own admittance, it was two in the morning. Not daytime. So, your 48 score is null and void!” She exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table for effect.
“Bugger.” Sherlock scowled.
“Don’t feel too bad about admitting that it was night time,” Mariana said smugly, picking up her pint. “I already knew that it was anyway.”
“You did? How?” Sherlock inquired.
She swallowed her gulp and picked her phone back up.
“Well, you sent the photo to me just a little while ago, so that didn’t tell me anything, but something still felt off. If we zoom in here,” Mariana said, bringing the nightstand into focus and handing over the phone, “We can see that John’s phone is on charge which, if he was taking a nap, he wouldn’t do as he usually naps on accident and forgets to plug his phone in. But , I thought, he is in bed so maybe this nap was on purpose. However, if we look just off to the side, we can see a half drunk glass of water and his pill case. It is Wednesday today, so if this was taken during an afternoon nap yesterday then he shouldn’t have taken his medication yet because he does that before bed, and yet!” she punctuated, “We can see that the Tuesday box is open! So, he must have taken his medication before he went to sleep, so it must be night.”
“And you didn’t take how dark the room was into account because the sun set at 3:30pm yesterday.” Sherlock said, a little breathless.
“Exactly!” She furrowed her brow, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He blinked, “Nothing, I just…” A smile appeared, small, on his face, eyes softening. “I should not be surprised at all at how you arrived at your conclusion. I would have arrived at the same one myself. I know you very well, and know you to be very smart, yet somehow your intelligence still leaves me at a loss sometimes.”
“Oh stop that.” Mariana reddened. “You’re the one always telling us to look closer into things and to trust our intuition.”
“Yes. And you have taken that to heart, unlike some others who we shall not name.” He said, primly.
She laughed, “Of course, that would be disrespectful. Don’t be too happy though, me taking it to heart means you lost.”
“I haven't lost.” Sherlock frowned, “Not yet.
He held out his hand for her to shake, and she took it with a smile. “I am looking forward to the next time you best me, Mrs Hudson. Ow- ow-”
“Mariana.”
“What’s this about?”
Sherlock quickly retracted his hand. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” John said, taking his seat, “Looked a lot like you were getting your ass beat by Mariana.”
“I was just talking about how I think I have pretty strong grip strength, so I showed Sherlock. I think he agrees with me, don’t you Sherlock?"
“Yes.” He replied, hand twitching. “Yes, I would agree with your assessment.”
“Let me see.” John said eagerly, “Bet you I could beat you in an arm wrestle, I may be ex-army but I can still put up a good fight."
“No, John, I’m not going to arm wrestle you.”
He looked disappointed, “Aw, what? Why not?”
“Because I’m not fourteen!” Mariana laughed.
“Apologies- What is an arm wrestle?”
“Oh boy.”
“You couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t I?”
“That area is too easy to collapse, if he moves, I win.”
“But if he doesn’t…” He whispered back, “Then that would be twenty points. Would it not? Ten points for being on a foot, five points for being an irregular shape, five points for being relatively heavy.”
There was no point in replying.
“So… bar of soap… to metacarpal bone… makes 184 points. Your move, Mrs Hudson.”
She scowled, before freezing in place at a low sound. A grin slowly spread across her face.
“No.” Sherlock’s own face turned white. “No, no,” he whispered frantically, “Go back to sleep, everything is okay.”
“Shr’lock?” John grumbled. “What’s going-”
He moved to talk, and in doing so, caused the soap to fall.
“No!” Sherlock yelled.
“Yes!” Mariana celebrated.
“Aaah!!” John screamed.
The carefully collected itinerary of hotel items and luggage came crashing down on all sides of John as the loud noise made him jolt. Confused, he frantically tried to move onto his back (crushing a packet of digestives in the process) and was greeted with; one gleeful Mariana and one lamenting Sherlock, staring forlornly at the pile of items.
John’s chest heaved, feeling a cold chill over him, “What-” he swallowed. “What the hell is going on?”
“Sherlock lost is what happened!” She gloated.
“You’re the one that woke him!” Sherlock threw back.
“What?” Mariana gawked, “Don’t you dare try to accuse me of cheating!”
“Well what else am I meant to think, given your approach to Monopoly.”
“We both agreed that-”
“Guys,” John’s heart rate steadily slowed. “Can, can you calm down a little, please?”
Sherlock looked back at him, and his brow furrowed, “We’re discussing- Are you quite alright?”
“Yeah, yeah just a little… it was a bit of a surprise, is all.”
Walking back over to the bed, Mariana had a look of guilt on her face, “Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Scare me? Pshh, didn’t scare me.” He absently stroked Sherlock’s hand, intertwined with his own, with his thumb. “What game were you playing, Crush John?”
“We were trying to see who could stack the most items on you at once without you waking. We don’t typically play at the same time but, well. You were napping. We both seized the opportunity, and I lost.”
“So… Buckaroo mixed with Don’t Wake Daddy?”
Sherlock deadpanned, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, kind of.” Mariana shrugged.
“Sorry- you don’t typically play at the same time? Who else have you done this to?”
“We don’t have to find anyone else, because you, John, nap like an old man!”
“What? No I don’t!”
“You do a bit.” Sherlock’s phone rang, and he answered without much preamble but a quick shush towards the protesting pseudo pensioner. “Sherlock Holmes speaking. Yes. Ah. What time is it? I see. No, we are not on route at the moment but will be there shortly.”
John jumped, “Oh shit the British Podcast Awards- fuck, fuck, fuck-”
“And this is why we don’t nap all the time!”