points if he finds Sherlock in retail panic, completely immobilized by the vast array of athletic shoes now available on Wenceslas Square: “I was meant to meet an orientalized Romany informant who would sell me opium and state secrets! BUT ALL I FOUND WERE TRAINERS!”
But all is well. John Watson smashes through the elegant pastry counter on the other side of the shoe store, gun aimed with precision at the cowering if well-coiffed salesperson. In a loving yet manly way, he ushers his traumatized friend from the scene. John’s face trembles as he meets Sherlock’s glazed eyes, his medical training noting with compassion the combined effects of severe opiate and crime scene withdrawal. “Sherlock. Shooting to kill is one thing. But I will not rest until the people who sent you to a pedestrian shopping zone are made to suffer.”
Sherlock gazes up, his eyes filled with unshed tears. There was a reason he prized this man above all others. But he isn’t good enough. “John,” he said, “Sherlock isn’t really a girl’s name. I can’t give you what you need.”
John sighed. “I can’t give you everything you need, either. You’re jonesing, and I’m too morally upright to buy you drugs or discuss treatment options other than cold turkey, which is the manly way although it rarely works. But Sherlock—we can compromise! I knocked over a pastry counter to get to you, and because this is Eastern Europe, it was full of poppyseed cakes! Hundreds of them. And I stole them. For you. See? you aren’t the only one willing to compromise his ethics for a friend.”
John fills Sherlock’s shaking hands with sticky cakes and buns. Then he coats his fingers with the sugary black paste and shoves them into his friend’s open, eager mouth. Sherlock moans with pleasure, then whines at the loss. “Sherlock. We couldn’t give our daughter an nontraditionally gendered name. But we did the next best thing. We named her after your addiction. And when she’s falls into bad habits, we just repeatedly slap little Poppy in the face.” He smiles. “And Mary’s going back to her career soon, so there will be plenty of crime scenes. Come home. We know how to take care of you.”
“John,” said Sherlock, "I can’t think of one thing to say.“
well THIS is far better then what I was going to write. lol.