Hey guys! So this is my first fanfic, and it is about, well, you must find out. I consider myself a pretty good writer, so I hope you enjoy!
"So tell me, Sherlock," Said John Watson, coming around the corner with a cup of tea in his hand, "Have you found any interesting cases yet?"
There Sherlock Holmes was, the famous Sherlock Holmes, lying on a couch, sulking, dying of boredom. He was in his bathrobes and slippers, his curly black hair an unruly mess, like he just took a shower, which he did, of course.
"No, nothing. A woman just came but she was gone in ten minutes." Sherlock rolled his eyes. How completely ignorant and stupid ordinary people are, he thought. She didn't even clean the dirt out of her fingernails, which she used to bury the body of her expensive and rare pet, alongside with a shovel, and then framed it on an intruder to get the insured money of the goldfish.
"Well?" Asked John, opening his laptop.
"Well What?" Sherlock said.
"How did it happen?" John took a sip of his tea.
"She took the fish out of the bowl and waited for it to die, then buried it. She then called the insurance company. The insurance company said that there was no proof that the fish was stolen, and she called me. That was her mistake." Sherlock sat up.
"How did you sort it out?" John opened up his blog and scrolled through the comments.
"There was dirt and fish fins in her fingernails, John." Sherlock sighed. Ignorant John. Not only did he miss out the evidences, he also missed the obvious signs that Sherlock…
Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted. "Hmph." John grunted. "This might be interesting." Sherlock stood up immediately and sat on the armchair next to him. John turned the laptop his way a bit. One comment was highlighted.
"Where Sherlock was introduced, on the day he hates the most, the hour after he takes his shower. Bad wolf." Sherlock read. "Well, that's rubbish. And interesting." He paused. "What do you think she wants?"
"No idea." John was amused. Sherlock Holmes didn't know!
"Well, whoever this Bad Wolf is, she has been spying on us for weeks. How else would she know about my least favorite day?" Sherlock mused.
"What is the day you hate the most?" John looked up, curious.
"Fridays." Sherlock answered without looking up.
"Why?" John was surprised. "I thought it was Wednesday!"
"You've got a date every Friday. And why should it be Wednesdays?"
"Oh." John blushed. "Well, I thought it was Wednesdays because of Anderson coming and all."
"Well, I suppose it could be my second favorite day." Sherlock answered, and if John was looking at him instead of the screen, he could see Sherlock blushing.
"So John, when was I introduced into your life?" Sherlock smirked.
"In Molly's lab, of course. Don't you remember?" He should remember, I'm his best friend, John thought.
"No, John. That is not the answer. You couldn't have barged into Molly's lab to just take a look around. When was I introduced, not when we met."
"Oh yeah, that's a good point." He paused for a second. "Mike Stanford said you would be a good flat mate at Russell Square Garden. So that's where we should go."
"I take a shower and nine in the morning, and ah hour after it is ten o'clock. So that's the time." Sherlock concluded.
"Hopefully tomorrow will get you excited. I can't stand one more day you're sulking in here and taking up the entire couch." Sherlock grinned mischievously. When John closed his room's door, Sherlock turned to the phone. He typed in a number that he didn't call for a long time.
Cliff hanger! Oh how I love those.