Chapter 1: The Phonecall
An unforgivably late (or early) hour
Sunday (Or Monday)
Bang! Bang! Bang!
John rolled his eyes. Couldn't Sherlock manage for ONE WEEK without a case?
BANG!
Apparently not. 'It wasn't,' John reflected as he made his way out of his bedroom, 'as though Sherlock wasn't wanted. An almost constant stream of cases came in, wether by post, blog or the all-powerful source named Mycroft, but Sherlock dissmised them all. John thought back through Sherlock's favourite reasons.
"BORING!"
"Thats hardly even a one, brother dear. If you haven't got anything even marginally intersting, then GET OUT."
"Lestrade, I think even you could solve this. Have you questioned the wife? No? Well go question her then!"
All of these rebuffs had been followed by a slammed door and a dramatic fall into the sofa.
So Sherlock had no case again, as he refused all that came to him, and was as usual suffering from a chronic case of ''I Must Make Sure The Whole World Knows I'm Bored' syndrome. Which was why John was not overly surprised to find Sherlock shooting the wall at 3:00am. Again.
"BORED."
"Sherl-"
"BORED! BORED! Bored boredboredboredb-
"SHERLOCK."
"JOOHHN." Sherlock imitated.
"Would you please keep it down for goodness sake!? Its THREE IN THE MORNING!"
"...Ohh" said Sherlock slowly, doing his trademark 'flop dramatically onto the sofa' routine. "I don't care"
"Sherlock, we're not all superhumans who can go for-"
"We need milk." Sherlock cut him off.
John resisted the urge to kick something. Or someone... Taking a deep breath, he went over to the fridge and opened the door.
"Okkkk... yeah, yeah we need milk. Would you like me to pick up some more hearts on the way?"
Sherlock either didn't notice or ignored John's sarcastic tone.
"No, I should have enough for the experiment. Molly's giving me some more tomorrow anyway, before she goes away for the weekend."
"You mean today?"
"Huh?" Sherlock was confused
"It's 3:00am, Sherlock. Molly's giving you more hearts today."
"Whatever." murmered Sherlock.
Anymore of this boringly repetitive and uninteresting conversation was spared as Sherlock's phone began to ring.
"Who is it?" Asked Sherlock listlessly. "Is it Lestrade? Does he have a case?"
"Unknown Caller ID." Answered John, with almost as much regret. A couple more wall-killing sessions yet then.
"BORING."
"Hmm. Might as well answer though. Could be a client..."
"You do it then." Sherlock rolled over, leaving John with the phone. Shrugging, John clicked accept call.
He almost dropped the phone.
"Jim Moriarty. HI!!"
