Disclaimer: I'm sure you've already deduced that these characters are not mine.
A/N This is really just a set up for a scene I would have liked to have seen between John and Lestrade that I am still attempting to write. Anyway, for now, it is the morning after the events in 'The Study in Pink'...
John slowly opened his eyes. He lay still for a few seconds before a smile tugged at his lips and he began to sit up. He had done it. He had actually managed to have a proper night's sleep; no nightmares. Ironic, really, considering recent events. It was almost hard to believe that had all happened. What a mad few days it had been...
He swung his legs around and stood up, stretching out his arms as he did so. It was only then he noticed the noise coming from below his bedroom. It sounded like someone was moving furniture about and someone else was not entirely happy about this. John grabbed his dressing gown from a half-unpacked suitcase and headed towards the voices.
'Sherlock, you really ought to be more careful,' Mrs Hudson was holding a rescued lamp in her arms, 'you're making a mess.'
'Nonsense, Mrs Hudson, I know what I'm doing,' Sherlock said as he roughly shoved the coffee table further towards the window, knocking over a pile of books in the process. Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes and sighed.
'What's going on?' John asked as he entered the room.
'Oh, Doctor Watson, did you sleep well?' Mrs Hudson asked but she did not stop for an answer, 'Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. He almost broke this lamp. Moving things about so forcefully.'
'I'm organising the flat.' Sherlock stated and although he hadn't even looked at John yet, he added, 'You should get dressed, John. Lestrade wants us. Unfortunately, its tedious question and paperwork time...again.'
'Excuse me?' John hadn't quite got passed the part about Sherlock 'organising' the flat because glancing around, it looked even more chaotic than before; if that was possible.
Sherlock turned to look at John now. 'Lestrade needs our accounts of last night as soon as possible. Although, I suggest we don't fill him in on everything.' John nodded slowly at that last part as the full details of the previous night dawned on him. He had killed someone...
'Sherlock!' Mrs Hudson's sudden shout cut through John's thoughts, 'You little bugger! You have been in my flat!'
'What makes you say that?' Sherlock said coolly and calmly but John could see the beginning of a smirk forming on his face.
'Don't play the innocent- that skull did not make its own way back here from my kitchen cupboard.' Mrs Hudson was now pointing at the offending skull that was one again watching over the room from the mantelpiece.
'Oh, I don't know, Mrs Hudson...' Sherlock began.
'Do that again, young man, and I'll have you out on your ear!' Mrs Hudson plonked the lamp down in a manner which contradicted her earlier protectiveness of the item, turned and marched off out into the hall. She didn't go very far though before she decided to turn back. 'I'll have this back if you don't mind,' she said as she quickly swiped the skull and then left for good. There was silence for a moment.
'You broke into her flat?' John wasn't exactly asking a question because he already knew the answer. In fact, he was quite surprised at his own tone. He sounded like a parent who'd grown exasperated with their wayward child.
'I was rescuing my skull.' Sherlock just shrugged slightly and smiled, 'It seems I may have to mount another rescue later.'
'Sherlock, did you not just hear...' John started but Sherlock cut in as he began rummaging through a nearby box;
'Seriously, John, you should think about getting dressed. You'll gain quite the reputation if you show up at the yard like that. We can stop off afterwards and pick up the rest of your things. Of course, I need to go to the morgue first. There is a boiled hand that needs my attention... '
John rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Something told him life at 221b Baker's Street was only going to get more interesting. May be he should start writing that blog?
...