[It only takes four minutes after Joan leaves him alone for the boredom to start sinking in. Well, the beginning of boredom for him is characterised by an over-active, unfocused burst of brain activity. He wants to get up (even if his body would protest) and do something. Find something to get his mind off of things. Exhaustion combined with this restlessness would make him moody and unhappy in the best of circumstances, but mixing that with the frustration of not being able to move since he's pretending to be an inanimate object is infuriating.

After twenty minutes, Sherlock's starting to feel anxiety on top of his boredom. He thinks Joan should be back by now - but that's just from a conservative estimated time frame. He can't rule out the possibility of mundane delays like long check-out lines (something he can't estimate without first seeing how many cars are in the parking lot. Something he would do if Joan isn't back out within the next ten minutes), crowded aisles, and the dreadful electronics section - he knows her well enough to think she'd get herself a mobile phone to replace the one she has linked with her identity.

Laying under the blanket is starting to feel too warm. Even though the temperature outside is well within jacket or light coat weather and he's accustomed to wearing a long coat during most of the year, he still doesn't like the smothering heat of too many blankets. ]


((OOC: I think he's had enough happen to him for now. Maybe something more can happen after he's had some recovery time.))