There's An App For That

Sherlock unplugged the USB cable from his latest distraction. He flipped it over in his hand feeling its weight. It was heavier than the last. He put the offending item down onto the table and returned to his current experiment.

It chimed.

"Whose phone is that?" John looked up from his laptopat the foreign sound.

Sherlock didn't look up from his microscope as he replied, "Mine."

"But you don't own an iPhone," John was fairly certain of this fact having answered it for the consultant detective on many occasion. There was no answer from his flat mate. With a resigned sigh John set his laptop down and retrieved the phone. "It's Lestrade," this caught Sherlock's attention. He abandoned his experiment and took the phone.

The case Lestrade had was, in Sherlock's opinion, brilliant. "He's emailing the details," he announced.

"My laptop is in the second draw down," John called to his friend from the kitchen. The laptop had to be hidden from the consultant detective although he always found it and changed the password much to John's distain.

"It's in the third draw down," Sherlock retorted, "I don't need your laptop, John." He waved his new phone at John as he walked into the living room. The email had already arrived.

The case had them searching for a discarded syringe in a dilapidated garage on the East side of London. John complained that it was too dark to see anything. Bringing a torch would have been a good idea. Within seconds the garage had been lit up by Sherlock, "I have an app," he was smug that his phone could do something that John's couldn't.

Having located the syringe Sherlock headed for St. Bartholomew's sending John to talk to the suspect. The police weren't considering him, a teenager with an alibi, to be a suspect. Sherlock knew otherwise.

The suspect was making no sense; he barely spoke a word of English and instead babbled in Spanish. He kept repeating the same phrase over and over again and although John didn't speak a word of Spanish he was fairly certain the repeated phrase wasn't Spanish. Once outside the suspect's house John wasted no time pulling his phone out and texting Sherlock.

Oameni morţi spune nu se afla, mean anything?

John hoped the spelling was right. Several minutes passed. The army doctor wasn't expecting an instant reply. When Sherlock was at Bart's his phone wasn't often forgotten. He decided to head for home as he awaited a reply. Two streets from Baker Street John received a reply.

Romanian. Dead men tell no lies- SH

Baffled didn't even begin to describe how John felt. He was tempted to ask how Sherlock knew it was Romanian but was too close to home to risk getting involved again not when he stomach was grumbling.

App- SH

Come to Bart's- SH

John had jinxed his evening with thoughts of returning home for dinner. Ignoring the part of him that said to ignore the texts John instructed the taxi driver to turn around and head for Bart's. His hunger could wait with the prospect of pursuing danger.

With the case solved John and Sherlock returned to Baker Street tired and hungry. Or at least John was. "Chinese, John?" Sherlock was still on a high following his impressive intellectual display in Lestrade's office upon the solving of the case.

"God yes," John collapsed into his chair with exhaustion leaving Sherlock to hunt out a menu from the kitchen. It went quiet. Far too quiet considering the enigmatic consultant detective was supposed to be ordering Chinese food. It was far too trivial a matter for him to get on with in good grace. "Are you going to order it or wait for me to?" John shouted to his friend.

Sherlock stuck his head out into the living room, "already ordered. I have an app for that."

John blinked in disbelief. "You didn't ask what I wanted."

"Sweet and chicken Cantonese style. Am I wrong?" Sherlock looked quite satisfied with himself.

With their plates clear of food John suggested putting on the evening news. As John searched for the remote underneath a pile of old newspapers Sherlock took out his phone. "Somali pirates hijacked a tourist boat. Scientist in Indonesia have found a new species of frog. Head of the department for education has been having an affair with the transport secretary. Nuclear plant proposed for South East coast. England squad has been chosen," Sherlock scanned through his news app.

"Well at least let me watch the weather," John grumbled and flicked on the television using the buttons on the side. Finding the remote could wait unless Sherlock found an app for that in the meantime.

Sherlock breathed in sharply, glanced at John and then his phone, "Tomorrow will be 18 degrees, cloudy with sunny intervals" He held his phone up for John to see, "Met office app."

When John let exhaustion win he left Sherlock concentrating on his experiment in the kitchen. Whatever had been growing in a petri dish in the fridge was now being scrutinised under the ever observing eyes of Sherlock Holmes and his microscope. "What's that?" John asked as he got himself a glass of water to take to bed.

"Brochothrix thermosphacta," Sherlock identified for him. "Common meat spoilage bacterium."

In his tiredness John let sarcasm take over, "How did you identify that? You have an app for that too?"

"No, John, don't be stupid."

Just something that popped into my head. Thanks for reading!