For caps1cles, based on his/her prompt for the johnlockchallenges' gift exchange on tumblr. The prompt was "scavenger hunt" (either fic or art and all ratings).
It was an early November evening when John returned home to 221B after a boring day in the clinic. He had endured the chattering noise of their nurses, inanely babbling patients and a dull migraine in the back of his head for the last couple of hours and all he was looking forward to now was a nice hot cup of tea and maybe a good read. Hopefully, Sherlock was still occupied by his latest experiments in their kitchen and would continue to do so for the remaining evening. Most importantly, John hoped it would be quiet evening with no explosions, no criminals or customers popping in and no calls from Lestrade.
He made his way up the stairs and unlocked the door. Everything was quiet – even Mrs Hudson was out- and there was no sign of Sherlock anywhere. John visibly relaxed, got rid of his shoes and coat and went straight to the kitchen to fix some tea. Upon entering the kitchen, he realized that Sherlock didn't seem to be home at all. Unusual. John checked his mobile. No messages or missed calls. He shrugged his shoulders and went to the counter to pick up the kettle and get one of the last remaining clean cups. While he was rummaging through their fridge – a plate full of eyeballs, leftover Chinese from yesterday, oh – was that - a human ear? - tomatoes- ah, there, at least some milk was left – his thoughts started to wander again. Where was his flatmate and why hadn't he contacted him before he left for his new case? For this had to be the answer. A new case. There couldn't be any other reason for which Sherlock would leave the house in the middle of his experiments.
He poured himself a cup of tea, grabbed some chocolate biscuits and trotted to the couch. He sank down on it and sighed. It was so comfortable to just sit there for a minute and not do anything. Finally, he pushed up a bit and opened his laptop on the table.
No emails either. Strange. Where was Sherlock?
Two hours later John yawned and stretched his arms. He was tired and could barely keep his eyes open. He closed his laptop and went upstairs to his room. Sherlock still had not returned. Even though tired, John's thoughts still concentrated on his missing flatmate while he was brushing his teeth. Barechested and only with a towel around his lower half, John went to his kingsize bed and flipped the duvet open. His eyes widened with his pupils trying to focus on what was lying on his pristinely clean and white sheets. It was a note attached to one of his red pants folded to look like a heart.
[A/N: To continue, go to serpentinasnape tumblr com/post/37038653256/ and add Sherlock's birthday (day and month) to identify the post ;)]