"Sherlock?" John Watson walked into his living room expecting murderers or kidnappers, only to find his ex flat-mate flopped on the green sofa, presumably bored. Sherlock groaned in response.
"What, John?" His curly hair flipped in front of his eyes as he tilted his head to examine- no, deduce- the man in front of him. "Oh."
"The shots, Sherlock?" John raised his brows, crossing his arms impatiently. It was such a John-like expression that Sherlock knew exactly what John was thinking.
"Bored…" he smirked at his friend, knowingly.
"Well- but- you've already done that!" John's put-together façade vanished in an instant, replaced by the oh-so-familiar face of irritation. "Did our smiling yellow friend really need a companion?"
"He was bored, too." Sherlock glanced down at the can of purple paint in his left hand, grimaced, and returned his gaze to John's face. "Problem?"
"I… you can't…"
"Well, John? I think you'll find that I just did. If you intend to suggest that Mrs. Hudson will be angry, please consider the fact that this has already crossed my mind." John snorted in response, words failing him as they so often did.
"Nope," John chuckled. "I thought I'd tell you that your neighbor doesn't appreciate the noise." Stunned, Sherlock's eyes widened.
"We have neighbors, now? Oh, how exciting," he continued with a devilish grin. "We'll have to welcome them in properly." With that, he hopped off the sofa in one fluid motion, feet landing squarely on the floor.
"No. No. Sherlock, you do not need to welcome them. I'm not sure what a welcome even means for you, but you cannot disturb them any more than you already have…"
"And why," the consulting detective gave John the ridiculously over-exaggerated grin that he usually saved for boring clients. "Not?"
"Because…" John's upper lip twitched, visible at last thanks to Sherlock's moustache advice. Caught up in his pride at the removal of the hideous facial hair, Sherlock failed to notice the lengthy shadow stepping into the flat from the stairwell.
"Hello, brother mine."