It was 2am; about the average time that John Watson normally found himself falling into bed; a long night in which a relatively easy case had would have been solved. But tonight was not like the normal nights, and this was not a simple case. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on something that Sherlock had said. However, the harder he tried the more the words just slipped out of his head.

He sat up, running his hands through his hair; he glanced at the now silent Sherlock whose feet was resting on the coffee table in front of him. Wishing he would say something, something he could concentrate on that would keep him awake, instead of staring at the bloody photograph he'd been inspecting for the past few hours.
"Tea." Sherlock said.
"Hmm, what?" John responded,
He turned to face John "I said, Tea. You're obviously very tired and with the inappreciable amount of evidence we already have, the possibility that this will be a long night is very obvious. Now, tea!"
John got to his feet, thankful for the reason to get up, but also slightly frustrated at the fact that Sherlock really didn't care whether John was asleep or awake, he needed very little help and would waste no time in waking him up, he was just too damn lazy to get his own tea.
They were currently investigating a murder of a middle aged man who'd died in very suspicious circumstances, John knew very little of the details and really wasn't bothered at the minute to ask.
"John on the way back, could you get my phone for me?" It wasn't a request, as John knew; it was Sherlock's way of demanding without sounding too explicit. He looked around the kitchen door to see, as he'd expected, Sherlock's phone just out of arms reach.
"Get it yourself; it's just there, next to your ankle, if you actually just stretched a little."
"Too much bother," he said, putting down the picture as John came out of the kitchen with two cups of tea, "Anyway, you're already up, if I had to get up the action would be completely unnecessary."
John rolled his eyes but retrieved the mobile and handed to him anyway. There was quiet for a moment, the only sound was the clicking of buttons from Sherlock's phone.
When suddenly Sherlock shot up, knocking over the tea, which consequently spilled on everything that was occupying the table, which was a lot.
"Sherlock!" John shouted, angry at the fact that he had been reaching over to put his cup down, and was now soaked in Sherlock's tea.
"I've been so stupid! How could I have missed this, that's not right, that's definitely not right!" He picked up the photo again and proceeded to examine it, he rushed over to John who was holding his arms out, not quite sure where to put them as he was dripping over everything.
"You see this?" he said, shaking the photo at John. He was pointing at the man's left arm.
"Yes, it's his arm." John said slowly,
"Precisely! And it's bent at a strange angle, if the man was to simply fall, his arm wouldn't be like that! It would be angled more like this," he gave a demonstration to make sure John was keeping up,
"That means the photo was posed! Oh how very pedestrian. It's got to be said, impressive, how could I have not seen this before? Unmistakably an amateur, a professional would make sure that the arm was more angled." He was talking more to himself now then John, who was taking off his jacket. He threw it in the corner, not particularly caring where it landed as the room was already a mess, thanks to Sherlock's 'borrowing' of evidence. He sat back down on the sofa, listening to Sherlock's conclusions and ramblings of the case and before long, John Watson had fallen asleep.