#oth: the queue cards

[incorrect-latenight-quotes]

John: You know what I like about the two of you? It's not clear who's the top.

Jon: I am.

Stephen: *looks at Jon and smiles*

John: Oh. Yeah.

[sunken-standard]

Are you still taking prompts? If you do, #53, “That wasn’t very subtle.” from the Drabble Challenge please!

“Yes, and, French milled soap is abetter value and more ecologically sound than shower gel.  Shower gelis an insidious way of getting people to spend more while receivingless.”

“But it smells nicer.”

“You wear perfume anyway.”

“I like shower gel, I’m buyingshower gel,” Molly said, putting the bottle in the trolley.

“And I’m sure the polar bears willthank you for doing your part to ensure they all drown when there’sno more sea ice for them to live on.  Oh, wait.  They won’t.”

“Oh, so we’re doing carbonfootprint now, Mr.I-take-cabs-everywhere-because-I-can’t-be-arsed-to-wait-for-anything-ever-including-public-transport?”

“You know that in my work, livesoften depend on my expediency.  I buy recycled loo roll—which isterrible, by the way—and I don’t drink bottled water.  It’s anoffset.”

“Mrs. Hudson buys your loo rolland—Oh fuck, are you kidding me?”

“Wha—Again?  Did he have youchipped while you were sleeping?”

“We live in the sameneighbourhood, it’s bound to happen,” Molly hissed, pushing backagainst Sherlock’s shoulder when he nudged her aside to walk next toher, resting that giant paw of his on the handle of the trolley.

“This is why I don’t do my owngrocery shopping.”

“So you don’t run into myex-fiancé in the Health & Beauty aisle.”

“Close enough.  Now smile.  Andfawn.”

“Still not fawning.”

“If you don’t want to sell it,”he said in a no skin off my nose tone.

And then there was Tom, all earnestsmile and fancy seeing you two again so soon, ha-ha-ha, just doingmy weekly shop (ready meals and a plastic tub of hummus, even hisjunk food was healthy and boring).

“Just picking up a few thingsourselves,” she said, master of stating the obvious.

Which must have been Sherlock’s cue toreach across the trolley and grab three (!) boxes of condoms and atube of lubricant.  "Going away for the weekend,“ heexplained.

Tom’s eyebrows raised but he was amature adult (unlike Sherlock) so said nothing.

“So, did you ah, have a nice lunchwith oth—uh, Thom?”

Tom said something about oh, yes, yes,a school chum, just moved back from Adelaide, meeting him tonight atthe pub, actually, you two should swing by.  She wasn’t really payingattention because Sherlock had rested a casually possessive hand onthe curve of her hip, crowded into her space to keep the aisle clearenough for another trolley to pass.  He was eerily good at actinglike a normal person when he wanted to.  They parted rather quicklywith a handshake and a yes, maybe we’ll all grab drinks sometime.  

“Three boxes?  Really?  Thatwasn’t very subtle.” she said after Tom had left the aisle.

“Alright, yes, it might have beena bit over the top, but they’re on offer.”

“Well, go put them back now.”

“Can’t, he might see us when we goto the till.”

“So then we’ll just wait a littlebit until he leaves.”

“If I wanted a milkshake, I’d havegone to a shop that sells milkshakes,” Sherlock said, indicatingthe ice cream in the trolley.  "Just buy them and return themnext time you do your shopping.“

"I’m not returning them!  I don’tneed some perky-breasted dewy-skinned twenty-something judging my sadmiddle-aged life choices when I return three boxes ofjohnnies!  You return them.”

“Can’t, they’re on your card andthey get sniffy about that sort of thing.  Never ends well,” hesaid, gazing off into the distance looking like he was rememberingsomething.  She probably didn’t want to know.

Molly sighed heavily, giving in.

**One Week Later**

“Okay, yes, fine, we’ll get thecheese and onion this ti—are you fucking kidding me.”

“Chipped,” Sherlock said. “You should get some kind of scan done.”

Tom was looking at his receipt with afrown on his face, carrier bags looped over his forearm.

“Just get in the queue and hope hedoesn’t see us,” Molly said quickly through clenched teeth,herding Sherlock toward the Customer Services desk.

Of course there’d been a mistakeon his bill and he needed to straighten it out.  The small talk wasexcruciating, as always, but luckily there was only one other personin front of them.

“And what can I help you withtoday, sir?” the girl (what was she, like twelve?) behind thedesk asked Sherlock when Mr. Wetmop-in-aisle-three stepped aside.

He dialled the charm up toneed-a-new-pair-of knickers, smiling like real people.  "We justneed to return these,“ he said, dumping out the three boxes ofcondoms onto the counter.  He’d kept the lube for use in an‘experiment’ (she didn’t ask).

"Is there, um, something wrongwith them, sir?  We don’t usually accept returns on, ah, personalcare items.”

Molly could see the annoyance in theline of Sherlock’s shoulders.  She was hit with a sense offoreboding, like she was watching a mini-her in a disaster filmtrying to outrun a tsunami.  

“As you can see, the boxes arecompletely intact, seals unbroken.  They haven’t been tampered withand are in perfectly resalable condition,” Sherlock arguedthrough his smile.

The girl looked them over and seemedsatisfied with their condition.  "I still need a reason for thereturn, though.  Company policy.“

"Don’t need them any more, decidedto start a family.”

Oh. my. God, she thought,watching the wave crash right over mini-her in the film in her head. Tom looked at her, startled.  "Eh-heh.  We’re not trying-trying,but, y'know, if it happens, it happens,“ she tittered, trying tosmile.

"At the rate we’re going, can’timagine it taking very long,” Sherlock said, giving her thatkind of mock-leering smile one of those all-wit-and-charm types wouldgive.  She wondered if he’d been practising John-looks.

“Best of luck to the two of you,then,” Tom enthused, his grin (mostly) genuine.

*

“You could have just told her wegot the wrong kind,” Molly hissed as they walked toward theproduce section.

“Then they’d exchange them andwe’d be stuck with them, because taking them back would just looksuspicious.”

“Could have just used them,”she said without thinking.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her butsaid nothing else.

She couldn’t think of anything to coverwith, so she just let the moment pass.  Awkwardly.

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[incorrect-latenight-quotes]

Jordan: There's no way I'm going to fit in there.

Jon: Well, it's bigger than your mother's womb and you were in there until you were fifteen.

[incorrect-latenight-quotes]

Stephen: This isn't a choice, like my diet. It's necessary, like my drinking.

[incorrect-latenight-quotes]

Trevor: He is, like, in Central Europe, there is a bad companion for Santa Claus, and on Christmas, if children are naughty, he takes away the presents. It's like a man, but it's very tall.

Hasan: Jordan!

Roy: It's Jordan.