Sherlock wasn't even surprised to find that the room was dark when he opened his eyes. The sun often did that to him, passing through the sky faster when he retreated into his Mind Palace. Still, sun up or down, Sherlock had the solution. It wasn't hard to figure out, really, but there was one little piece of wood stuck in the footprint of the murderer that had made all the difference. Still, after a few hours of deep thought, Sherlock had solved the case and all that had to be done was text Lestrade.
Except, Sherlock couldn't get up. There was an unusual weight all over his body, which made him look down to see what the unusual objects were. And objects there were, several of them. They covered every inch of his body like some sort of catastrophic blanket. But it wasn't simply one type of item, rather a multitude of practically everything in the apartment. Books from the bookshelf (the A through J section, Sherlock noted), a packet of crisps, a few saucers, several old phones, chicken bones, a Bunsen burner, two laptops, three old papers from the past consecutive days, a scattering of some type of cracker in the shape of fish, a few ripe fruits, and the three pens John kept in his pocket for his work were just a few things in the cacophony of items on his body.
"What the…" Sherlock sat up partway, letting a few books and an empty cup roll off his chest and onto the floor. John Watson looked up from his chair in the other side of the room, looking over the detective before a satisfied smirk graced his lips.
"Rise and shine." John had been reading one of the books that was currently not on Sherlock, but was currently watching the detective with an obvious look of smug wonder.
"What the hell are all these things? Did you do this?" Sherlock plucked fruit and books and even a pair of bright red pants off of himself, recognizing the last item as John's from one of his "definitely-not-snooping-explorations-of-the-apartment". John snorted, setting down his book.
"I'm afraid so. Ever heard of that game, 'Place as Many Items on the Cat as You can before They Move'?"
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, shifting into a sitting position once enough of the items were cleared away.
"I can't say I have, is that a patented ga-" Sherlock was cut off by John laughing and shaking his head.
"It's a game with no name, Sherlock, I had to make one up. Well, basically you put as many items as possible on your cat or dog until they decide to move. I wanted to see how many I could do on you before you noticed."
Sherlock nodded slowly, picking another goldfish shaped cracker from his hair.
"So you were just placing items on me while I was in my Mind Palace? How bored were you?"
John shrugged, grinning despite himself. Sherlock looked at him suspiciously, feeling something crinkle against his stomach as he moved. He lifted his shirt, and a piece of printer paper fell out and drifted to the floor.
"Pretty much. It was hard to continue when I had covered all of you but your head, though. You've been laying there for nearly four hours, and it's my day off so I decided to make the most of the opportunity."
Sherlock didn't respond right away, eyes narrowing on a small smudge on John's hand.
"God, you didn't draw something on my face, did you?"
John just grinned, picking his book back up as Sherlock sprinted to the bathroom and shouted in nearly a scream at the marker-caused damage riddling his face.