Mischief
After a long night, John awoke to the sound of his alarm clock. He looked at it. 7 am right on the money. However, he knew Sherlock would probably be up before him, probably doing something dangerous and probably examining a dead cat in the fridge. John groaned and pressed snooze on his alarm clock. He got himself up from his bed and put on a house-robe he grabbed from his closet.
With some ceral and the morning newspaper already on his seat (most likely Sherlocks doing) he comfortably sat down and quietly read. A few minutes later he heard the door open and close.
"Hey Sherlock, did you know-" John was cut off in mid-sentence per the norm when dealing with Sherlock Holmes.
"That a baker was found dead inside his bakery with flour all over his face. I know. I read the paper before i put it on the chair. And that's simple, obviously he was making dough for pie, he sliced an apple and choked." He heard a voice coming from the entrance. John didn't bother to look up from his paper. But there was something different in Sherlocks voice.
"You feeling alright Sherlock?" John asked, flipping a page.
"Peachy. Why do you ask?" Obviously Sherlock was rummaging through the fridge, the door clearly opened.
"Losing your voice then?" John yelled back.
"Not that I'm aware of." Sherlock replied.
"Huh, alright... So it wasn't a murder then?" John read some more "It says-"
"They didn't do an autopsy yet. Obviously it wasn't a murder, look at his hands. Clean, wiped, like a regular chef. If there was a struggle his hands would be seemingly dirty. Plus there were no bullet holes or cut marks. And i'm sure when they do the autopsy, they'll find an un-chewed bit of apple lodged in his throat. John, did you finish the milk?" Sherlock closed the fridge.
"Yeah there was a bit left I used it for cereal. You were supposed to get more." John reminded.
"Was I?" John heard.
"Yes, yes you were. That was the whole point of you going out last night. To run down to the shop and buy some milk." John stood up from his seat and began to fold his newspaper. "So, what happened last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if you didn't get the milk, why were you out for so long?" John asked.
"I woke up about 20 miles from London, John." John heard the answer from the kitchen.
"Aah, you got drunk." John smiled, beginning to walk to the kitchen.
"No, i just blacked out." Another reply from the kitchen.
"Honestly, your voice sounds different. Are you sure you're alr-" John dropped his cereal bowl, milk and chunks of grain turned into a fat mess on the floor. "You're not Sherlock."
Across from John was a man in Sherlocks clothes, (well the purple shirt and black trousers.) His hair was longer, straightened but still black. He was a wee bit taller, all in all he just looked much different than Sherlock Holmes.
"Don't be ridiculous John. Of course it's me." The man who may or may not be Sherlock, reached into a cupboard and examined a can of soup. "Who else would it be?"
"O-Okay maybe it.. Is.. You. But you look-" John was just... Stunned.
"I know how i look!" He exclaimed, angered.
"Well, how did you get like.. This?" John picked up the bowl from the ground and placed it in the sink.
"Must have been last night. I could have been drugged... Or maybe knocked out somehow.." Sherlock answered.
"By who?" John grabbed towels from a drawer and began to clean the spilled cereal.
"This man obviously, who else." Sherlock put back the can of soup. "Honestly John think for once."
"So.. You think this was .. A.. Body-swap?" John asked.
"Wouldn't doubt it. After all, there is science involved in science fiction. Where's the oatmeal?" Sherlock opened another cupboard and rummaged through it.
"But that's crazy! Normal People don't just swap bodies!" John protested.
"Right, which means that this man was no 'normal person.' I've been going through possibilities to what this man could be, exactly 17 times in my head." He told him.
"Wait, where were you this morning? I mean, if you knew you looked like-" John replied.
"I went downstairs to inform Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock closed the cupboard and opened two drawers.
"Did she believe you?" John opened a bottom cupboard and pulled out a box of oatmeal.
"Of course. I got you to believe me, didn't I?" Sherlock grabbed a tea kettle and filled it with water from the sink.
"What about Molly?" John asked.
"What about Molly?" Sherlock looked at him.
"Are you going to tell her? What about Moriarty? Lestrade? Anderson?" John questioned.
"Molly'll believe me if i choose to tell her. If Moriarty finds my body walking around he'll go after him and leave us. Lestrade is on holiday, remember when we visited his office last week there were flight tickets to Manhattan. Obviously Greg wanted to visit America." Sherlock approached the kettle and poured the boiling water into a bowl.
"And Anderson?" John raised a brow.
"Anderson can piss off." Sherlock poured the oatmeal into the bowl and began mixing the two with a spoon, he muttered "That's what he always told me to do."
"We have to figure out how to get you back to normal! Or at least, where your body is! What if it's robbing a shop? O-Or murdering a person? Sherlock, you don't understand how important this is! W-We have to go to the police!" John exclaimed.
"And tell them what? 'Anderson, yes it's Sherlock, what? Yes, i know i don't sound like me or look like me but if you find my body walking around, can you alert us? Thanks, bye." Sherlock said sarcastically.
"Well, we have to do something! What are you going to do, Sherlock?" John asked, sincerely concerned.
"I am doing something." Sherlock replied.
"Oh, and what is it?" John wondered.
"I'm drinking tea." Sherlock told him calmly.
"Why? Why are you drinking tea at a time like this?!" John yelled.
"Because I'm British John." Sherlock took a sip of tea "And it calms me down, you should try it."
"So, we're just going to sit here, have a little tea party and pretend like nothing ever happened?" John asked, little bit ticked off.
Just then Mrs. Hudson walked into the room, holding something.
"Mrs. Hudson, do you believe this?" John pointed to Sherlock.
"What? Oh, yes dear i know how he looks but believe me. It's Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson assured.
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock muttered.
"Oh and Sherlock, this piece of paper arrived at the door for you." Mrs. Hudson handed John the letter.
"Mr. Holmes, you have been chosen, not randomly. Chosen for your popularity and ties to certain people. Chosen because your personality is easy to mimic, and as for your deductive reasoning.. Well, if a human like you can do that, imagine what a God can do. I needed a shield and you provided the perfect one, Mr. Holmes. Beware of my brother, he's not pleased with me. Signed, Loki.. Loki! Loki's a-" John was interrupted yet again.
"God, possibility number 3. Loki, god of mischief. He likes to cause havoc for amusement." Sherlock muttered.
"I've heard something about a horse.." John added.
"So you think this bloke is Loki?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Most likely." Sherlock answered.
Just then a huge thunder and lightening storm began, right outside Baker street. Rain, lightening, just horrible weather.
"Didn't he mention something about his brother?" Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock.
"Sherlock, who is Loki's brother?" John didn't take his eyes off the window.
"Thor." Sherlock answered as another thunder strike hit.
"Oh.. Just the god of thunder and lightening. That's pleasant." John sighed.