A/N: My first BBC Sherlock fic, hoorah!
I woke up in the middle of the night after rewatching The Reichenbach Fall, and wrote this. Or rather I discovered a piece of paper in my handwriting with these words (more or less) on it this morning, so that's my educated guess as to what happened.
Takes place after Sherlock returns. John and Sherlock are having tea at 221b.
Sherlock set the teacup back down on the saucer. "This is boring, John."
John rolled his eyes and set down his tea as well. "I'll take boring, thank you very much. Sometimes the opposite of boring is being strapped to a bomb, or being locked in a laboratory at Baskerville, or watching your best friend fake his suicide."
Sherlock smiled. "But sometimes not boring is finding out your best friend is actually still alive."
"Yes, well, I'll take that kind of not boring. But you tend to attract the other sort, that's the problem."
"It's the profession," said Sherlock, picking up his teacup and downing the remaining contents.
"Definitely," replied John, and added jokingly, "Maybe you should try something a little less deadly for a change."
Sherlock sighed. "But that would be boring."
"Not necessarily," he returned, taking another drink of tea.
"What exactly to you have in mind?" asked Sherlock, cocking an eyebrow.
"I dunno," said John, frowning. "Uh..."
"Exactly," said Sherlock.
John shook his head just as the doorbell rang.
"Client!" exclaimed Sherlock.
A/N: And that's where it stopped. Hopefully you enjoyed. :)