Fic: 221B - What is it like in your funny little brains?

[anarion]

Title: What is it like in your funny little brains?
Words: a 221B has 221 words and ends with a b-word
Rating: Pg-13
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: ‘365 days of 221Bs’ challenge: a prompt a day, given by atlinmerrick. Day 303.




Previous 221b: The lover’s dance (3/3)


Today's prompt: rum

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What is it like in your funny little brains?


“He wasn't an alcoholic.”

So far so obvious.

“What? Of course he was. Look at him.”

Or not.

“He was homeless, yes. But not an alcoholic.”

I look at the other people standing in the morgue with me: John looks tired - not enough sleep three nights in a row, I should finish this quickly and send him home -, Lestrade annoyed - I just destroyed his theory that the man died of natural causes, which of course was ridiculous as always and he ignored most of the facts, but if it had been true he might have made it home in time for breakfast - and Molly strangely excited - not enough data, also not important right now.

“Why would you say that?”

He sounds as if I say those things just to vex him.

“Smell his feet.”

“Excuse me?”

Dear God.

“His feet. Smell them.”

“That's alcohol.”

Finally. Thank you, John.

“Rum to be precise.”

“Why would he put alcohol on his feet?”

John jumps in again, a warning glance towards me to stop me from berating Lestrade for being extraordinarily slow this time.

“He was suffering from athlete's foot.”

“He was also murdered. Molly, I need the usual samples. John, go home.”

I leave the morgue and stride towards my lab. This day is going to be brilliant.





Next 221b: On display


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AN:
The prompt was 'rum'.

Since LJ was broken yesterday and still catching up with stuff this morning, you might have missed the last story that I posted this morning.






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