No Shit, Sherlock

I'll Behave

"What's next?" I ask Sherlock.

"I need to go back to my flat to finish some paperwork."

I slow my pace, falling behind him. His shoulders are broad, I look like a pathetic twig next to him. It doesn't help that he's almost a whole foot taller than me.

"What are you doing?"

"You're very tall."

He turns back to face the street in front of him, "So I've been told."

We walk into his apartment, he immediately sits at his desk, shuffling through papers. I sit on the couch and watch him. "I'm bored."

He ignores me and continues reading over his papers. I frown, there's got to be something in here that's entertaining. The book shelves catch my eye, none of the books look very interesting. My eyes continue scanning the room, not a single interesting thing in sight. I look back at Sherlock, he's taken off his coat, and I can't help but stare at his back.

"Why are you staring at me?"

I jump at his voice, "Because there's nothing better to do."

He lets out a sigh, turning to face me. "Read a book."

"I would if you had anything interesting."

"You're impossible," he mutters.

He turns back to his desk, I roll my eyes and sigh. I lay down on the couch, then  toss my legs over the back of it, allowing my head to hang off the edge. My hair rests on the floor, as my feet hit the back of the couch softly.

"What on Earth are you doing now?"

I turn to Sherlock, "Trying to see if your place looks less miserable while upside-down."

"You're childish."

"And you're boring."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes closed tightly. "You're distracting me."

I swing my legs over the arm of the couch, and set them back on the floor, slowly sitting back up.

"How am I distracting you if I'm all the way over here?"

He doesn't answer, his attention already back on his papers. There's an empty chair by a book shelf, so I drag it over to his desk, and sit right next to him.

"What are you working on?"

He sighs, "Paperwork."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But what kind of paperwork?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm already finished."

He walks to the kitchen, preparing a kettle of tea. I of course follow him, I've been told I'm incredibly annoying when bored.

"Your apartment is so lifeless. How do you live here?" I ask.

He sets the kettle on the stove, and leans against the counter behind him. "It's not lifeless."

I point to the bare walls, "There's not a single picture."

"I don't have any pictures."

"If I had a face as handsome as yours I would have pictures of myself on every wall."

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, waiting to see how he'll react.

"You think I'm handsome?"

My plan backfired. I was trying to embarrass him, but now I'm the embarrassed one. "Everyone does."

My hand drags along the spines of the books on the shelf, I slowly make my way back to the kitchen. His eyes follow my every movement. I do my best to ignore it, but the tension in the room is suffocating.