"I WILL NOT SIMPLY STAND AROUND AND DO NOTHING, JOHN!" he screamed out in frustration. John could compare the number of times Sherlock yelled this particular phrase at him with the number of stars in the sky-yet that still would not be enough.
Though he could however count the number of times it made sense on one hand.
"Sherlock, you just got back! What about that murder case with the jockstrap?" John tried to calm his friend-friend?-down as per usual, even though he knew it would all be in vain.
"Oh please John, it was obviously the father. Don't be so daft. I want to do something EXCITING!" Sherlock protested as he flopped himself down on their old couch in the shared flat. "Just sitting here, rotting like a normal person, is simply a waste of my skills!"
Watson walked over and dejectedly sat down next to Sherlock adjusting himself so the Sherlock's head was resting on his lap. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in defeat once again.
"What are you doing John?" Sherlock asked his brows furrowed, and his eyes full of suspicion.
"I'm comforting you," he replied in an obvious tone, confused by the man who knew everything not coming to that conclusion on his own. "It has proven to be useless trying to fight with you when you're like this," John said softly, still stroking the other man's hair while grabbing Sherlock's hand in his own.
Taken back by the blunt explanation, Sherlock was practically speachless. "Oh. Well. I guess that's alright then," he relaxed his head and sighed deeply thinking to himself.
Maybe he could do nothing more often...