We own nothing.
-Dante Pierre
Sherlock Holmes was in a very bad mood. No, he was in a horrible mood. It was the sixth day in a row without a real case and he was bored!
Ring! Ring! Ring! The phone rang.
"John!"
Ring! Ring! Ring! Where was John when you needed him?
"What do you want, Sherlock? I'm in the loo!" John was here! Lovely!
"Get the phone!"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"I'm in the loo!" Sherlock rolled his eyes. Silly little John, with his poor timing.
Ring! Ring! Ring! The bloody phone just kept at it! And then it was silent. No ringing whatsoever. Sherlock sighed, and got back to contemplating how bored he was.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Oh, how lovely, now his own cellphone decided to be a nuisance.
Flush.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Sherlock! You lazy arse! Pick up the phone!"
"John! My phone's ringing!"
"I know! Pick it up!" John yelled as he walked into the room.
"Get it for me."
"What?"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Why? Where is it?"
"In my pocket."
"Which pocket?!"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"My pants pocket, obviously!"
"Are you serious."
Ring! Ring! Ring! John didn't get a reply.
"Fine. Bloody hell. The things I do for you." John walked over to the lump on the coach named Sherlock. Sighing, he reached a hand into Sherlock's left pocket. No luck. He tried the right one, but the phone wasn't there either. Damn.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Hurry up, John!"
"I'm trying! Where's your phone?"
"In my pants pocket! Honestly, how many times do I have to tell you?"
"It's not in either pocket."
"Well obviously! It's in my back pocket!"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"It's not obvious to me!"
"Idiot." John sighed. Oh, he so wasn't paid enough to babysit Sherlock. Fucking hell, he wasn't paid at all. He'd have to talk to Lestrade about that later.
Ring! Ring! Ring! The bloody phone just kept ringing! John lifted Sherlock's waist with one hand, and stuck his other hand in Sherlock's right back pants pocket. Ah ha! He pulled out the phone.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Sherlock held out an expectant hand. John dropped the phone into Sherlock's grasp.
"Next time you can get your own bloody phone."
"Mycroft. What do you want." There was muttering on the other end of the line.
"It was in my pocket. Now what do you want. Do hurry, I'm working on a case." John sighed, he'd have to talk to Sherlock about lying later on too. Some more muttering.
"No! I will not!" Sherlock practically yelled.
"Good bye, Mycroft!" And with that Sherlock slammed his phone down on the couch next to him.
"What did your brother want?"
"He wanted me to meet him for cake later today."
"Ah."
"John."
"What."
"Put my phone back."