This is a little something I posted on AO3 a while back. But since I'm bored out of my mind waiting for a bus (the buses here in satan's anus are atrocious) and have nothing better to do, I might as well post it here too.
The real action won't start until next chapter. But this little prelude is kind of very necessary.
It was a peaceful day. The weather was perfect. The birds were singing all in perfect harmony. The leaves rustled happily. There were just enough clouds to gaze at dreamily, but not enough to block the glittering sunshine. It was the sort of day that made even the grumpiest of pessimists smile. Except for two.
John Watson had gotten up that morning feeling refreshed and ready to take on whatever the world threw at him, whether it be serial cannibals or crying children with skinned knees or Henry the hypochondriac. He got dressed and down the stairs in record time, only to find his worst nightmare spread over the couch like spiteful butter on toast. A sulky Sherlock was the only thing he felt he couldn't deal with today.
Sherlock Holmes hadn't woken up refreshed because he hadn't woken up. It was one of the many nights that he just didn't feel the need to sleep. This wasn't the issue, as he could go four or five days with only four hours of sleep and still be in the best of moods. But as dawn broke in through the window and fornicated with the dust motes hanging in the air, he figured it would be a dreadfully pleasant day. And there was nothing he hated more than dreadfully pleasant days. Except for maybe Anderson... Anderson on dreadfully pleasant days.
John had tiptoed past the unmoving hunk of consulting detective, hoping that he could make it to work unnoticed and not have to deal with him until he got back. Maybe he'd cheer up a little by then. Even if he doesn't, work would give John a few hours or so until he had to deal with the moping bastard, and any time away from a bad-tempered consulking detective is time well spent.
"John, Tea." John grimaced but never stopped moving towards the door.
"I don't have time, I'll be late to-"
"Sarah called, they won't be needing you today." John stopped in his tracks as dread creeped through his major arteries. "It's as if people stopped being sick, she said in this hideously cheerful tone. So you'll be staying home today."
"Actually... I was thinking of taking a walk today." He said quickly, trying to make a mad dash through the door.
"No, you aren't. I'm miserable and I'll be damned if I'm not going to drag you down with me." John felt himself sink ankle deep into the floorboards. Sherlock hadn't moved from where he was fused to the couch during the whole ordeal. John couldn't be sure if his lips had even moved while he spoke. "Now. Tea. If you would be so kind."
John had been sitting in his armchair, raptly watching Sherlock not drink the tea he made when an idea struck him. Sherlock had a bit of a competitive streak when his competition is worthy and whatever he's competing for is of his interest. Which... truth be told wasn't very often. There wasn't anything that John did better than Sherlock other than... being half-decent to people. But maybe, just maybe, a little friendly game might bring him out of his slump.
This is not, by any means, an original idea. He's tried it on hundreds of previous occasions. Cluedo ended with a board being stabbed brutally into a wall. Chess ended with Sherlock winning with one move four times in a row and John storming out of the room. Sherlock outright shot down a game of riddles, almost literally. He didn't bother suggesting a deduction competition. And you don't even want to know what happened when he suggested word games. But this time would be different. This time he found a game that he had experience in. One that he believed had a level playing field.
"Sherlock. I'm still a bit bitter about what you pulled at baskerville last week." Sherlock replied by making a very good impression of being dead. "And, as revenge, I'm going to pull something on you. You won't know when or where it may happen until it does." Sherlock shifted just a bit.
"You may retalliate with a similar prank, but only after my prank has taken full effect." Sherlock lept from his sprawled out position on the couch. It was almost as if he had been switched out with another person. An evil grin spread across his face.
"Is this a challenge?"
"Yes." A matching grin started to spread across John's face.
"You are so on." Sherlock said over the rim of his teacup as he took a sip. It's amazing how he managed grinning and drinking at the same time.
"I'd be more worried if I were you. Could be dangerous..." John stood from his seat and disappeared into his room to prepare his devious plans.