logicals | ic inbox | LITTLE HADES

[ DINGA-DINGA-DINGA-DING-dong]

[Bitch I will cut you.]

[ ok, the doorbell's getting obnoxious. there's an intense hangover waiting on the other side of this sleep, and Sherlock is pretty adamant in avoiding that, so, uh.

sorry, John, you're getting kicked out of this bed.

pretty forcibly. not violently... just insistently.

literally kicked. feet against your bare back, it's time to wake up and face the shitty music screaming up from downstairs. ]

[you fucking traitor, see if he ever touches your dick again.]

[ well that's just a harsh overreaction tbh ]

[ to the tune of Mozart's fifth-

DING DING DING dong DING DING DING dong]

Jesus Christ, it's fucking—[He peers at his watch. 10:30 am. Oh.

God dammit, fine.. Where the hell are his pants?]

[the bell is now ringing to the tune of La Marseillaise-

along with knocking to set the beat]

[You know what? Screw the pants. Whoever this is deserves to get an eyeful of John's morning glory, okay?

And possibly a punch to the nose. It's been that kind of weekend.]

Could you NOT.

[Flinging open the door.]

[ omfg john be quiet some people are sleeping???? so insensitive ]

[u shut up or he's going to smash this package in your face.

not that way.]

[ well, that'd be one way to wake up.

... oh. but why would you ruin perfectly good cake ]

[oh yeah, like you were going to eat it]

[ i mean, you're not wrong

but if you'll recall there were some very in depth conversations about how he doesn't get enough sleep... are you really going to wake this precious sprawling man baby up??? doubtful!! ]

[there's what looks like a teenage girl standing on the porch, little horns and wings revealing she's a demon. She has a box in her arms (how was she ringing the bell if her hands are full-??) and a uniform showing she's with the local LH courier company.

She not so subtly takes in all of John and turns a little pink.]

There's a- um. A package for you.

[At least the hangover has kept things from being too...perky, this morning.]

Sorry, um. You couldn't have just left it on the step?

[But John's reaching for the box anyway because at least it'll make for good coverage.]

[Does the girl look relieved or sad that John's taken the package to cover his... package? He can decide for himself. She's still quite pink.]

I- um. I just needed to get a signature. [The removal of the package reveals a clipboard and pen in one hand.] It's a delicate package [Are her eyes lingering on the box held protectively over John's.... ? Oh right. His eyes are up there.], so someone has to sign that it arrived in one piece.

[ his dream just took a weirdly jealous turn.

how weird, right? ]

[shhh go back to sleep. your package is safe and sound]

[ o ok good nomnom sleep ]

[Juggling the package and the pen and clipboard at the same time, while keeping whatever modesty he has left is a challenge. One John rather thinks he fails at, but eventually a sloppy approximation of a signature is on the paper and he's holding the box with both hands secure again.]

Who sent it?

[The package is clearly addressed to him and Sherlock, which is...a bit strange considering they're at Greg's bloody house and not the hotel right now, how did the courier even know they would be here?]

[John fails rather spectacularly at retaining his modesty, as evidenced by the girl's sudden surprised jump when John speaks to her again.

She reaches quickly for the clipboard.]

I think there's a card inside?!

[It will read: ";)". The cake inside really speaks for itself]

Yes, but from who? You must have seen who requested you deliver the package in the first place.

[He isn't opening the box yet, especially not while someone else is around to witness it. Doesn't feel heavy enough to be any of the things he's dreading though. Like a severed limb.

This is Hell, after all.]

I don't know. I'm just delivery. [She sounds apologetic as she signs her own name on the form.]

[There are two angels standing on the street staring and whispering.]

Right.

[John sighs, just wanting to get out of the public eye now.]

Fine. Ta, very much for your trouble.

(no subject)

dissemble - 2016-07-03 04:12 (UTC) - Expand