Touch

John Watson was having a very. Trying. Day.

Sherlock had been a ball of snapping, squirming eels the entire afternoon. Nothing would cajole him out of his strop, not even corpses, but if John turned his attention to anything other than His Sulkiness, Sherlock made exasperated sounds and flailed at things that he wanted fetched. Unfortunately, if John complied, Sherlock would just look put out and fling whatever it was John handed him against the wall or, memorably, through the closed window.

After he learned his lesson the first time and refused to fetch anything else, Sherlock just threw everything already within reach into the kitchen after him instead.