A/N: I don't own Sherlock, Benedict (I wish…) or John or BBC (again I wish…) or anything like that. I own a few copies of the stories and dvds and one poster, but that's it. This story was inspired by an episode of Friends. Always a good combination… :)
John flipped on the light in the cold flat. He dropped his keys on the table and made his way into his room. It only took him a few minutes to slip on an old sweatshirt and pair of comfortable gym pants. Padding into the living room in his socks, he stopped to turn on the television. There was a special on the BBC about the war in Afghanistan that he was particularly keen to see.
He continued into the kitchen to make some popcorn. He wasn't hungry enough for a full meal and with Sherlock out on his case, he would probably be alone all evening. While the popcorn was popping, he moved back to the couch. As soon as he had he flipped one of the channels, the door burst open and Holmes leapt over the table and onto the couch next to John in such a flurry of movement, Watson wasn't completely sure it was him.
"I did it," he said with a rare smile, "It was quite simple really. See, my mind was particularly stuck on the notion that when I turned the carpet there was no corresponding stain underneath. Lestrade was as baffled as ever." He paused to snicker, "But when I pointed out that there was, in fact, a corresponding stain where it shouldn't have been it made it quite clear that the carpet had been moved. In fact, the clue was so singular that I was thinking if you put that in your blog it should be the title of the whole episode "The Second Stain". Clever, yes? Are you cooking something?" He sniffed.
Holmes's words came out in such a rush John had to concentrate to follow them.
"What? Oh, yes. Hungry?"
"No. Change your clothes. We're going to go out and celebrate the closing of the case. Dinner on me."
"You just said you weren't hungry."
"I know. But you obviously are. And I'm in the mood to celebrate."
"Now?" John asked. It was rare that Holmes was ever in the mood to do anything other than lounge in the chair with his hands raised in a triangle in front of his face.
Sherlock stared at him as though he were an idiot, "Obviously. You're not actually doing something are you?"
John's glance flashed over to the television, "Well, there was something I was hoping to catch about Afghanistan."
"Oh."
It came out in such a pathetic little sound, John almost caved and got up to go change.
"Never any mind then. I'll just watch it with you. We can celebrate later."
Somewhat relieved, John stood to go get the popcorn. "You can change into something more comfortable. There's still a few minutes before it starts."
Sherlock looked down at his suit jacket and removed it, throwing it back on the couch, "You're right. Much better."
"Could I get that in writing?" he yelled as he walked into the kitchen and put the popcorn in a bowl.
John sat on the couch and grabbed a handful of popcorn, "I'm still not sure how finding the carpet was turned made you solve the case."
"It didn't." Sherlock replied as he stuffed the popcorn in his mouth, "Once I determined who it was that moved the carpet, I knew exactly who had the letter and that's how I solved the case."
"I'll still need more notes if you want me to put it on my blog."
"Well," he said between bites, "It's probably best you don't write about it now. There are time sensitive details as of yet. Perhaps in a few years."
John turned to Holmes with raised eyebrows, "Now I'll really have to get more notes."
With a gleam in his eye, Holmes pointed towards the television and shushed him, "It's starting."
John almost said something, but instead turned to watch the screen.
John's mind wandered into consciousness at the sound of the television. He yawned and tried to move, but couldn't. Opening his eyes, he realized Holmes was lying on his stomach. He shifted whenever John did and his eyes shot open. Pushing himself up, he eyed John warily.
"What happened?" he asked.
"We were watching the programme and must have fallen asleep." John said rubbing his eyes.
"And that's all?"
"Yes that's all, what do you mean, that's all?"
Holmes scooted away but continued to watch him.
"Stop looking at me like that. I'm going to bed."
"Come on, John, admit that that was the best nap you've ever had."
"Good night!" he yelled as he hurried to his room.
Sherlock, wide awake now, unfolded his lanky form on the couch and turned to the television. It was just the right time for some great trash t.v. Reaching over, he scooped up a handful of popcorn before wondering what kind of ploy he would have to use to make Watson help him get a good night's sleep next time.
