Hello! So this is my first fanfic ever, so please be nice. Sherlock and John may not be in character and it may just suck over all, but like I said, first fanfic ever. Thank you for reading!

-Cemari

Sherlock was bored. Simple as that. He had finally abandoned the pass time of chucking kitchen knives into a tattered picture of Mycroft on the wall and was now plucking madly at his violin strings, hoping for an intriguing tune. He instantly became bored with that, too. His mind wandered off, picking up small details and enlarging them in his mind to analyze and compare. Finally, he grabbed another nicotine patch from the coffee table, reaching past his inclined feet that rested on a few of John's coasters. Feet.

John sipped his coffee. He smiled at the lady sitting across from him, "So, you've read my blog?"

John was having a lovely date. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, but very slight. He had to say that it was nice to be away from Sherlock, though he couldn't really remember why he had wanted to leave the flat. Nevertheless, he felt completely stress free. He sat in front of a small café with his date, not caring to give Sherlock another thought.

"Yes, it's quite riveting and entertaining." She replied. She has nice hair, he thought. Indeed, her hair was shoulder-length, black spiraling curls. She had light green eyes and wore a subtle red lipstick. He was just about to take another sip of coffee as she was about to continue the conversation when John felt a unforgiving prick on the sole of his right foot. He slammed the coffee mug on the table with a yelp. His drink splashed on the woman and she shrieked.

"Oh, my apologies! I'm so sorry, let me get you some towles." He blurted, just as he felt another prick at the top of his big toe. "Ouch! What the-?"

The young woman stared wildly at John for a moment, as he felt around his shoes, and then grabbed her purse hurridly, "John, it's been great, but I really need to be going-" she started making her way across the street.

"No, please wait!" John made his way after her, but another prick to the heel caused his knee to buckle. Suddenly, out of no where a taxi turned onto the street, making its way towards John and then-

"Bawha!" John woke up, lurching forward and panting. Back at the flat...It was a dream. A somewhat twisted and revolting dream, but still, just a dream. He gave a sigh of relief, and just as he was about to lay back down and resume sleeping, another prick in the arch of his foot had him shouting, "Ouch! Bloody-"

"Good morning, John." Sherlocks passive voice came to him, but he didn't see him. He sat up, propping himself up with his forearms and found Sherlock at the base of his bed, strenuously focused on the doctor's feet.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John glanced at his clock on his nightstand: 6:45...a.m. On a Saturday?!

"I did some research and decided to test the affects of acupuncture on feet." Sherlock quipped modestly, examining the screen of John's laptop in his lap.

"Acupuntur- Ack! Sherlock!" John finally noticed his feet, sticking out from the sheets of the bed. Numerous thin needles stuck out from his soles and toes. He winced as he tried to wiggle his big toe. This explains the dream...

"Reflexology uses different sections of the feet to represent parts of the body. The tips of your toes represent your frontal sinuses...or your brain...there are multiple charts online. Though, I have to say frontal sinuses. A few needles to your toes stopped your snoring." Sherlock looked up again with a needle in hand, "What about the inner heel here, that's the bladder-"

John jerked his feet away quickly, provoking an annoyed expression from Sherlock, and sat up completely. He pulled his left foot closer to him, "Ouch! Bloody hell, Sherlock, you idiot- wait...where did you get these needles?"

Sherlock sighed and stood, "Right, this has gotten boring. I don't see the use of acupuncture as helpful to me at the moment, so what's the point? Gah, where's a good serial killer when you need one?"

"Sherlock, are these needles clean?" John winced and hissed through his teeth as he tried to pull one out. Sherlock sighed again, picked up John's laptop, and sauntered from the room. "Sherlock?!"