literature

Jambalaya

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midnight-sorrows's avatar
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Literature Text

The flat smelt of smoke. Again. Sherlock was stretching John's patience and the durability of the walls while he was at it. The lack of a case echoed with every gunshot.

The groceries having been obliterated by one of Sherlock's little experiments, John had ventured out into the February cold to brave the wrath of the chip and pin machine for some solace from the constant sarcasm and unidentified sticky substance that was pervading the upstairs landing and seemed to be immune to all cleaning products. The fresh air was, after all, exactly what the doctor ordered...

Even after that, Sherlock still managed to haunt John as he strolled down Baker Street. The debate on the preferred Chinese restaurant from the night before continued all the way to the supermarket (Sherlock put the most merit in the Golden Dragon and it's placement of the door handle, whereas John preferred one that didn't deliver an acrobatic Chinese assassin instead of Chicken Chow Mein). Standing in front of the chiller cabinets in the prepared food section he heard;

'Don't get the lasagne again- remember how vile it was last time? Heaven alone knows what it was they called beef mince'
hesitation for a second, and then John replaced the packet back on the shelf, and picked up a prawn Jambalaya instead, shaking away the doubts. The same voice followed the doctor round the entire store, commenting on everything.

'Should we tell that woman that she's gay, or do you suppose she's just hiding it?'

'You might need to get some more bread, John. I might have used the rest of it up...'

'Pick up some writing paper, the stuff we have at the flat is far too thin'.

His fingers brushed on a six pack of foreign import lager on offer and then he retracted them as quickly as if he'd been burned. 'You can drink beer of you want to John, you don't have to abstain because of your sister' came the imperious voice from behind John's shoulder. He shook it off and reached instead for several packs of turquoise nicotine patches in retaliation.

The voice groaned, out of satisfaction or frustration, it was hard to tell. It stayed quiet after that.

Mrs Hudson gave John one of her patented harassed looks as he started on the stairs with the plastic bags ripping holes in his hands.

'He's been a bit testy. It's that time of the month' she whispered conspiratorially wringing her hands.

John gave a wry chuckle and continued upwards, avoiding the pile of newspapers and a porcelain elephant inexplicably strewn on the landing. The scene that met him was one of complete devastation. This was not a surprise.

...And then the voice came from before...
Comments5
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Crystal-Magic13's avatar
I don't understand.
Was Sherlock not really with him at the supermarket?
And what do you mean by and the voice came from before?
:(