Work Text:
John trudged up the stairs to the flat, slightly wary of the clanking noises and muffled curses issuing from within.
“Sherlock?” he called out as he entered. No answer was immediately forthcoming, so he continued to the kitchen to set down the carrier bags full of groceries. His mad flatmate’s absence from the kitchen was both reassuring and alarming; he was unlikely to be causing explosions elsewhere, but that did not necessarily rule out messy experiments.
“Sherlock, where are you?”
“In the bathroom,” came the muffled reply. Filled with trepidation, John made his way down the hallway. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, brought up short by the sight of Sherlock, dressed in a stained navy coverall, crouched in the corner wielding a wrench of some sort. His body was blocking whatever he was using the wrench on, which did nothing to make John feel any better.
“Didn’t know you knew anything about doing manual labour,” he remarked. Sherlock glared half-heartedly at him, and in turning to do so revealed what he was installing.
“Before you say anything, it’s for a case,” Sherlock assured John, reacting to the dismayed look on his face. John had to open and close his mouth several times before he found his voice.
“What case could possibly require the installation of a bidet in our bathroom?”