Author's note/ warning: This story was written for NaNoWriMo and so, I will warn you in advance that in a couple of chapters go slightly overboard on description.
That will be all.
Also, I will update the Phone Call when inspiration hits. I promise.
Chapter One
"Get up John, Lestrade has found a body! He thinks it is suicide; I can't wait to prove him wrong!" Apparently the hours lie in John had intended to indulge in on his day off this Wednesday was not happening. He should have seen it coming really; he never got his lie in on his day off for one reason or another. Generally though, Sherlock was to blame for waking him up.
"Go 'way 'Lock. Tired. 'S my day off." He grumbled shoving his over excited partner away. Sherlock's weight lifted from the bed and there was silence for a moment. 'That was easy,' John thought to himself, closing his eyes and settling down to sleep.
"John…" The consulting detectives voice materialised by John's ear, "John, I blew up the kettle. Don't be mad." John's eyes flicked open.
"That was last week Sherlock; you are going to have to try harder than that." There was silence once more as Sherlock made his way to the foot of the bed and grabbed the end of the duvet with both hands
"Sherlock Holmes, I suggest you put the end of that duvet down now or the next murder case will be your own." John threatened as he felt the end of the duvet lift slightly and a breeze pass over his ankles and calves. Sherlock froze for a second before yanking the sheets off anyway causing John to squeal as he was exposed to the frigid morning air.
"Sherlock Holmes I am going to kill you!" John shouted, completely waking up and jumping out of bed to tackle his partner to the ground with a satisfying thud.
"But you said try harder." Sherlock protested, squirming under John "Let me up."
"Nope." John grinned, poking his tongue out at Sherlock who scowled furiously beneath him.
"John." Sherlock whined, "Let me up." John considered the action for a moment, grinning down at Sherlock before rolling his eyes and getting off his partner.
"Happy now?" John asked turning to rifle through their cupboard to find something to wear.
"Not really. Do we have to eat breakfast?"
"Yes." John replied without turning around. "We have to eat breakfast, most important meal of the day. Go and put some toast on, if you can manage not to blow up the toaster as well."
Sherlock frowned and sighed before turning out the door of the bedroom. John smiled to himself; maybe he had a hope in hell of domesticating his partner at some point in the next century, perhaps next month he'd try and take Sherlock shopping at Tesco again. Then again, the trip to Ikea to get a new kettle hadn't been fun- CRASH- John's hopeful trail of thought finished. Please don't have broken the toaster; please don't have broken the-
"John! I have broken the toaster!" Of course Sherlock had. John sighed and made his way downstairs to the inevitable chaos in the kitchen.
Sherlock stood with a plate of toast in each hand and a dented toaster at his feet. The cable had snapped and there were crumbs scattered everywhere. Almost as if Sherlock was trying to recreate a scene from Hansel and Gretel. You did not need to be a consulting detective to know that Sherlock had turned to put the plates on the table and knocked the toaster off the work surface and sent it flying.
"I have made you toast." He offered weakly, giving John a small smile asking him to please not be angry and ban Sherlock from this apparently exciting case.
"You have also made a mess 'Lock." John sighed.
"But I made you toast with jam on it." Sherlock countered, trying to get John to forget about the toaster.
"The toaster Sherlock."
"Toast and jam? I'm sorry John." Sherlock apologised. John sighed again and took a plate from Sherlock and bit into the toast.
"You did a good job with it." John smiled but groaned internally at the thought of returning to Ikea. At this praise Sherlock beamed and ushered John into the living room.
"Sit down. I'll sort out the toaster." He directed, hurrying John out of the room and throwing away the now useless toaster and sweeping up the crumbs. Hopefully that would be enough to please John and he would not have to go to Ikea tomorrow. However, John would probably make him go because he was the one who broke the toaster.
A few minutes later Sherlock returned to the living room, pressed a quick kiss to John's lips and headed off upstairs to brush his teeth, leaving John in a surprised silence. He shrugged and made his way to the kitchen, smiling at how clean it was in comparison to the original state it was in. He shoved his plate (and Sherlock's) in the dishwasher and grumbled slightly about how his partner was incapable of loading the dishwasher (probably below his massive intellect or something) but then again he could not complain too much, he had just sorted out the kitchen. He was still coming to Ikea tomorrow though, John was certain of that. He closed the dishwasher and made his way up the bathroom.
After Sherlock had, hidden the tooth paste (twice), nudged John repeatedly to make him miss his mouth with the tooth brush (four times) he finally persuaded John that if he brushed his teeth anymore he wouldn't have any more teeth to brush the two men finally stumbled/ Sherlock practically skipped and dragged John out with him- out onto a chilly Baker Street and set about hailing a taxi.
"Where did Lestrade say he the body was?" John asked, wondering if this was going to be a long and cold morning, a pattern nearly all winter cases followed.
"Morgue, found in the Thames though. Luckily we don't have to hang around on the banks of that infernal river."
"Sherlock, that 'infernal river' is a huge point of London, it's a landmark, it is-"
"The reason we've had so many problems with suspects, they all jump in the bloody thing before I can catch them." Sherlock rebutted.
"We can catch them, Sherlock." John corrected putting extra emphasis on the 'we'.
"Irrelevant. Still it's useful for some things."
"I'm not sure everyone would consider the Thames useful because it gives you cases."
"Perhaps not. But the local criminals certainly deem it useful."
"Not necessarily a good thing Sherlock." John reminded his partner as he finally flagged down a taxi and directed the driver to Saint Barts' morgue.