Author's Note: Hello wonderful person and thank you for reading this fic. This is my first story on this account and I'm happy that it's a John/Sherlock one.
A normal day. A normal day with Sherlock Holmes is not really something that regularly occurs. Maybe once a month he may be in a sluggish mood and I may sneak out for a couple of beers at the local pub but that's not normal, is it? I mean, how can anything be normal when you have a man as intelligent and complex as Sherlock living around you from day to day? That just isn't going to happen. Most men my age would be out having fun with girlfriends and wives and look what I've got. I'm pretty sure that whenever I try a relationship Sherlock manages to ruin it somehow. Sorry, I didn't mean that. In most cases it was me but I still blame the man. For some odd and unexplainable reason they all seem to think I'm in love with him with is not true, obviously. Although that said, he is a very good friend. Yep, I've said it. Friend and for someone of his character, an extremely good cook. He never even had to learn either, self taught. Well, he would be wouldn't he? With a man like Sherlock, give him a few minutes and he could probably learn how anything works and teach himself how to work it to the best of his ability. He's getting better as a person though, defiantly. When I first met Sherlock, he was like a robot in a human suit. You can probably imagine how hard that was to live with. He still is to some extent but as far as I can see, I've been excepted into his little world. Though, today was weird and extremely unexpected.
"Pass me the butter." said Sherlock in his deep baritone voice. John nodded slightly as he passed it and continued to munch on his toast while scanning the newspaper for anything half interesting. Sherlock was doing the same apart from the fact that he was online. "Hmm.." He said aloud. John looked up to see the man slumped over onto his elbows, staring at the screen. His toast lay on the plate, unbuttered."Found something?" John asked. "Mmmm.." He replied, his position stable. "What have you found?" He asked, getting rather frustrated with the way Sherlock was replying to him. Sherlock looked up at John. "Er what?" He asked, frowning at John. "What have you found?" John repeated, signalling at the laptop screen with his toast. "Oh Uhm.. Nothing." He said, looking back to the screen. John sighed and returned to his toast before hearing Sherlock's chair pull out from the table. "WHY IS THERE NEVER ANYTHING INTERESTING GOING ON?" He yelled, walking over to the window and peering out. "Well um.. I mean most people would say that that was a good thing." Sherlock looked over John, frowning. "How?" He asked. "Well, your definition of interesting is a lot different to other people's, Sherlock. If nothing 'interesting' is going on then it usually means no one is dying." Sherlock sighed, turning back to the window. "Boring."
"I know what you need."
"Oh?"
"A holiday, like normal people, might even teach you a thing or two." Sherlock scoffed. "I don't think so John, I'm perfectly happy here with my work." John looked down at the newspaper, then to the laptop screen. "What work?" "Something will turn up. There's always a bored serial killer or something." John sighed. "Sherlock, this is what I mean. You need to get away from all this, even just for a week. What about Spain?"
"John, I am not sitting on a stinking plane for three hours surrounded by strangers all to end up in some weird hot country."
"It's not like that Sherlock, seriously. There really are some lovely holiday destinations."
"John, for the last time. I do not need a holiday!"
The plane journey was tough. Sherlock wouldn't stay still in his chair and kept telling people to shut up. He managed to get told off for having his feet on the chair in front's headrest around 10 times, head but a small child in the face and make about 30 new enemies in the space of an hour. A couple of times he even asked the fight attendant if he could parachute out of plane. I was so glad that i didn't let him carry his violin in his hand luggage. In the end, I'm pretty sure that the people sitting around us were more relieved to get off the plain than he was.
By the time we made it to the Spanish hotel it was around three in the afternoon. The first thing he did when entering was complain about how the carpet and skirting board were not aligned perfectly. While all this was going on, I was trying to sort out a major problem. I had booked two rooms, I was sure of it although in their bookings they only had down one. It wasn't as simple as just booking another room, this hotel had a book in advance only policy. In the end I just had to settle for sharing with Sherlock. Now we just had decide who was sleeping on the floor.
(Thank you for reading, please review as it means a lot to me. :) Also, more chapters will be on the way!)