John Watson walked up the stairs, muttering to himself about the chance Sherlock had found another case. He mumbled something about Ms. Hudson charging extra rent for the contents of their flat spilling out into the stairwell as he straightened the books stacked on the staircase. John also pondered the likelihood of Sherlock either having accepted yet another case or testing his aged skull for mersa.
Instead, when he got to the landing and walked into his meekly shared flat he was slightly surprised to see Sherlock Holmes laying face down on the floor, arms and legs spread about him like a child creating a snow angel. Books were stacked around his form in a tumble down fashion.
"Shut up." Sherlock Holmes said suddenly, not looking up from the floor. He picked his left hand up, twirling his fingers above an open book.
"What? Why are you- I didn't say anything!" John stuttered frustratedly.
"Your thinking. It was upsetting my focus." Sherlock said mildly, at once flinging himself back to his feet and straightening his coat.
"Your focus? Focus on what? The Mengi case?" John inquired, kneeling down to look at the book. It was about cryptology, a page open to ciphers concerning the stars and their positioning. That wasn't right, the Mengi case was about a serial killer who left a strip of the American flag at every killing. "What is this Sherlock?"
"It's a cryptology book John, surely you can still read." Sherlock said, exasperated.
John huffed. "Of course I can still read but I want to know why you're messing about with this when the Mengi case still needs solving. I assumed this would be right up your alley."
"Oh. Of course. No, I refused it."
"What? Why! Sherlock-"
"John, turn on the kettle. Don't touch my skull though, I'm sure it has pneumonia."
A regular day in the Holmes/Watson household.