John walked down the stairs and was about to head into the kitchen when he spotted something unusual. He sees a lot of unusual things in 221b, but this was new. It wasn't a human head, a bag of thumbs, or a jar of human eyes. Those are things John might have thought normal for Sherlock. It was a pile of broken shards. It looked like the shards might have once fit together into the form of a lamp. A lamp that John recognized as the lamp that belonged near the doorway.

John looked around and found Sherlock laying on the couch. He was thinking, hands folded neatly under his chin.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"Hm?" He barely acknowledged.

"Sherlock, did you break that lamp?"

"What?" He sat up. "Oh that. Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Got bored." He said simply as if he thought that excused it.

"Sherlock, you can't just break things because you're bored. First the wall now the lamp?"

"It's just a lamp John."

John sighed irritated and walked away to make tea. When he came back Sherlock was right back to how he had originally found him. He sat down and drank his tea wondering what could have possibly have coaxed him into breaking a lamp. It had been a while since they'd had a case. Sherlock didn't seem to have any of his experiments going on. Mycroft hadn't been by with anything for Sherlock to do. John could imagine that Sherlock would be feeling pretty bored by now.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Sherlock asked pulling John away from his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"That I broke that lamp, does it bother you?" He sat up to look at John.

"Well I would certainly prefer that you didn't break things when you're bored. So yeah it bothers me a bit."

Sherlock went back to whatever he was thinking about and John finished his tea and left for work. They didn't talk about the lamp again for several days, but when they did, it wasn't a pleasant conversation.

John came home from work and walked up the stairs to the flat. He walked through the door to find quite a mess. Sherlock had clearly broken nineteen or twenty lamps; including the one John had bought to replace the first broken lamp, and left them shattered all over the floor.

"Sherlock!" He was sitting in his favorite chair, playing his violin. "What happened?"

Sherlock put his violin in his lap and sighed. "I broke all the lamps in the flat, obviously."

"Why?"

"I got bored John. Why else?" He started playing again, ignoring John's furious gaze.

John stomped upstairs and Sherlock didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

Upstairs in his room John had an idea. It was a bit ridiculous, but it would certainly solve their lamp problem. John called Mycroft and asked him for a rather odd favor.

1 Week Later

Sherlock had finally gotten himself a case. It wasn't a very big case, but Sherlock was looking into it after John insisted that getting out of the house would help with the boredom and that he should go, "doctor's orders". So, John was left home alone. This was very lucky for John as his plan was being initiated today. There was a knock at the door down stairs and John hurried to answer it. Mrs. Hudson was already at the door talking to the confused looking delivery man.

"John, this man says he has crates of lamps for you, two hundred of them." Mrs. Hudson looked like she didn't know if it was a joke or if the man was serious.

"Where do I sign?" John asked. The man handed him his clipboard and helped John carry all twenty very large and heavy boxes upstairs and into the living room. John smiled to himself. They wouldn't need any lamps for a long while. They put the boxes in the kitchen, stacked against the wall and out of the way. The delivery man left and John feeling quite worn out went upstairs to bed.

John woke in the middle of the night. It was very late and still dark outside. It was silent downstairs. Sherlock must still be out, John thought. He went down stairs intending to get himself a cup of tea hoping it would help him get back to sleep.

When he reached the living room, He thought he'd gone mad. There was broken porcelain everywhere. It covered the floor, there were pieces on all the furniture, and there was a spot on the wall where the paper was a bit shredded as if several lamps had been thrown at it.

In the midst of the madness, was Sherlock. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the wall near John, but not really looking.

"Sherlock?" John asked, too shocked to be angry. Sherlock's hands had several small cuts on them. There were little lamp pieces in his hair and his clothes were dusted with tiny particles.

"John." Sherlock said almost terrifyingly calm. "Two hundred lamps, John… I broke them all."

John couldn't help it, it was too much; the broken lamps, Sherlock, the blood on Sherlock's hands. He started laughing. He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.

"John? You're laughing. Why are you laughing?" Sherlock looked concerned for a minute before he took around, and then he was laughing too.

"Sherlock, why did you break two hundred lamps?" John said once he could breathe again.

"I was bored John."

"No, Sherlock, no you weren't. You had a case today. You were out all day working on it."

"It was a boring case."

"I don't think so. I think you just have some sort of lamp phobia or you just love driving me mad or-"

"John. They're just lamps."

John sighed. "Fine, Sherlock. Just lamps. Let me look at your hands at least."

"My hands are fine."

"They're bleeding and there could be glass in them."

Sherlock held out his hands for John to examine, but he pouted while he did. "See I'm perfectly fine."

John looked around the room again and sighed. "Can't wait to see you explain this one to Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock smirked.