I hung my keys up on the ring and walked into the flat. Mary was out shopping, so I felt like visiting Sherlock. I hadn't seen him in a while.

"Sherlock?" I called.

I heard a groan. "Great timing, John. I'm doing an experiment."

I looked around. Sherlock was still nowhere to be seen.

"Uh, where are you?"

"Look up."

I did as he asked. Sherlock was laying spread eagle on the ceiling.

"What are you...doing?"

"It's for a case, John. I still do those when you're away. Would you mind moving that armchair under me?"

I did as he asked, and he stretched and fell off the ceiling onto the armchair.

"So...why were you on the ceiling?"

"It's an odd case. maybe you can help me with it tomorrow. I'll probably go back up on the ceiling. A victim was found dead on the bottom of a bridge. I'm testing different adhesives, and how long it takes you fall, etcetera, etcetera. I still need to test out this staple of clay I got from a store and-

"Okay Sherlock, that's enough. I got it. And sure, I'll come over tomorrow and work on the case."

He beamed. That's what I loved about Sherlock. He hated everyone, but he didn't hate me. Don't ask me why.


When I arrived at 221B the next morning, I was caught off guard. Policemen and ambulances and firetrucks were roaming around, and I couldn't even see the building. As soon as I stepped out of the car, Lestrade ran up to me.

"Oh god, John, thank god you're here. It's awful!"

"What happened? what's with all the hubbub?"

The next sentence to come out of his mouth was what would change this to a simple case and experiment to the most dangerous case and experiment we've ever had to go through-but what also led to a fabulous new friendship and adventure. At least, I'd say that. not sure what Sherlock would say.

"It's 221B-it's burned down!"