Everything But The Monkey, Saturday Afternoon

[justhisblogger.livejournal.com]

... Well. For reasons John would not go into further at present, as they were rather sensitive details with rights to a certain incident in upper Baltimore, Sherlock had to identify a particular brand of pet food. And to identify this, they had to go down to the pet shop, which was, at present, made of gingerbread.

John chose not to question it. It was easier on his sanity.

"So," he asked, flashing the proprietor a brief, nervously placating smile as they went from aisle to aisle, "What kind of cat food are we looking for, and why, exactly?"

He did not expect a particularily extensive answer. Or any answer, really.

[[ john's here for sherlock, but pet shop's a public place! ]]

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[justhisblogger.livejournal.com]

"Good," said John, hoisted him up, and set his jaw.

He kept setting it all the way to the counter, where he paid for Sherlock's cat food. "Don't ask," he told the man briskly, and turned around.