I do not own, nor do I profit from. Once again, thank you Verity for your help. :)
John Watson found he favored a full night's rest for freshness. Finally they had finished the four nights and five days case the fastidious fact finder had fixedly fasted for. After foiling the florist who was filching famous ferns, Sherlock's footing failed and he nearly fainted from fatigue and famishment.
John firmly forced him forwards to the flat. Sherlock foraged in the freezer and found flavourful fish fingers and custard to feast on. Following his fill of food he finally fell flat on his face in bed. For a few hours felicity then flailing, fumbling, and fussing. Sherlock's frightened friend flew down the flight of stairs and flung open the door. Fearful fantasies were frustrated by John's fondly feeling his flatmate's forehead.
Sherlock fluently shared his fantastically foolish fit of fancy with flair. It featured the flabby and flatulent Father Fred fornicating with Flora the fairy in the forest as the fawns and foxes frolicked in the nearby flowers. Their faces fairly familiar.
Flinching, he figured them for Mycroft and his frosty follower Ms. Fairweather. Sherlock froze fleetingly. Finding freedom, he fluently, and furiously, faced the foregone finale. Such a freakish fright would forever cause functioning failure to his flaccid phallus…
John was fast in fluidly floating to the floor, flailing as Sherlock fidgeted and fretted feeling fragile and feeble.
A/N: Half of this piece is Verity's fault. It only took one word from her. And the rest is my husband's with all of his sleepy words like 'frolicking', 'fornicating', and such. ;)