Good Morning!

I'm almost sorry about this :) But not really. I'm stuck in bed feeling quite awful, and this just kind of flew out of my ears. But really, come on now :D Tell me you can't imagine them doing something like this!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Good morning, Sherlock," John greeted his flatmate cheerfully, who was tuning his violin with the utmost of focus in the armchair, as he descended the stairs, warm in one of his blessed jumpers and craving his morning tea.

Something in those words seemed to make Sherlock Holmes perk up – John could feel the stoic "Sherlockian" perkiness (strange word to put to such a man) beginning to roll off of his flatmate – and as John strode into the kitchen to procure his mug of tea, Sherlock peeked over at John, cocking an eyebrow at the good doctor.

"Good morning, you said?" He asked, his pale, calculating blue eyes looking strangely at John.

"Yes Sherlock, good morning," John repeated, almost a bit impatiently, pouring a generous amount of hot water into a mug before reaching into a drawer for a tea bag. A thoughtful frown crossed Sherlock's face.

"Well now, what exactly do you mean by that?" Sherlock asked curiously, taking his violin from his shoulder and placing it flat on the coffee table before locking his long fingers under his chin in concentration, still eying John quite queerly. "Good morning. What exactly are you proposing?"

John looked oddly at Sherlock as the doctor returned to the living room, pausing outside the kitchen's boundaries, victim to the consulting detective's scrutinizing stare. Sherlock's question was incredibly vague, very very incredibly vague at that, not to mention that it made really no sense at all once John thought about it, and John found himself at a loss at what to say to such a peculiar, indistinct question as the one Sherlock had just asked him in all seriousness.

"What do you mean 'what am I proposing'?" John asked incredulously. "It's entirely straightforward."

"But is it really, John, is it really?" Sherlock inquired, still looking very seriously at John, eyes calculating quicker than John could process, as if the topic in query wasn't as dubious as John was beginning to find it.

"Well of course it is, Sherlock!" John declared, his voice filled with exasperation and perplexed confusion. The threat of a very tedious migraine began to pound in John's temple. "It's a socially and politically accepted phrase, and it makes quite perfect sense! What are you bloody inquiring about?

"Exactly what I said, John!" Sherlock pushed on, jumping up from his seat in the armchair and began to pace around the room, on a roll now. He still looked completely serious, and now in earnest. "What does it really mean? The idea of a 'Good Morning'?"

"I still don't understand what you're blabbering on about!"

"Come now, think about it John!" Sherlock proclaimed intellectually, tapping his chin in thrilled thought as his mind worked at a breakneck pace that only Sherlock's amazing brain could go. "'Good Morning' – it's quite the complex assertion. What could it really mean?"

"Could you please explain to me what you're yabbering on about?" John sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. "And I thought we talked about 'the Face'!"

"A 'Good Morning' has so many implications, John!" Sherlock said, looking quite astounded (and yes, he was making that Face again!), his eyes lit up with the process of new information. "For instance, do you wish me a good morning? Or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?"

John blinked blankly at his raving flatmate. "Erm-"

"Or do you mean that you feel good this morning? Or do you really mean to say that it is a morning to be good on?" Sherlock went excitedly on.

"Well..." John answered awkwardly with another round of vacuous blinking, "all of them at once, I suppose."

"Quite interesting really," said Sherlock, still pacing and thinking with avid fervor. "Imagine all the deductions entailed in just one phrase! 'Good Morning' indeed!" He exclaimed passionately.

John stared at his flatmate for another long moment, then, with cold tea in hand, went to make a call to Lestrade about the serious lack of cases coming in.

More random than humorous, but when you're stuck in bed, anything can fly out of your ears. Especially when Martin Freeman is both John and Bilbo x) Best. Acting Jobs. EVURR.

Revews four meee?