Due to reparations in their 221B Baker Street apartment, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are forced to stay together in one room over the night for few days, much to Watson's discomfort and annoyance and Sherlock's ever lasting ignorance.

"...or it was the daughter...," Sherlock was thinking out loud about a case the two detectives were working on. "Oh, whatever Sherlock, I want to sleep now," John turned around in his bed so his face was now facing the wall and his friend could see only his back. "Ok, alright," Sherlock finally started climbing into his bed. "Maybe it wasn't that way at all...," he nevertheless proceeded to deduce. "GOOD NIGHT!" John yelled at him angrily, it was too late for him to discuss that kind of things and spending few nights in row in the same room as the great detective really damaged doctor's nerves. "Good night, John," Sherlock answered as he turned down the light.

But the great detective's mind was too busy that night and he simply couldn't fall asleep, several images considering the case they worked on flew through his mind. Suddenly something popped out in his majestic mind and he sat on his bed with his eyes wide open starring in the dark. "Of course! Of course!" he screamed and stood up. "I was so blind all that time, it's so obvious dear Watson!" he then added. "Alright, what's it now?" John turned on the light and sat on his bed giving his friend an annoyed look. "It wasn't the same person at all! Two different persons! Just a little plastic surgery and voi lá! It looked like she died, but she didn't she just faked her death by killing some innocent woman!" Sherlock explained chaotically and jumped in enthusiasm, while John observed him with his eyes squinting in the light. "And what are you doing now?" John then asked as Sherlock picked up his phone. "I'm going to call Lestrade," Sherlock gave John an 'it's-so-obvious-how-didn't-you-know' look. "The man is sleeping you idiot! It's 2 a.m.! Call him in the morning, I think it can wait," John said and started climbing into his bed again. "No, no, no, you don't understand, we have to solve it now!" Sherlock opposed and proceeded to call the inspector.

Few minutes later Watson and Holmes were standing outside an abandoned building with Lestrade while some of his men were taking away the suspected woman who faked her death. "Well done Sherlock, as always," Lestrade praised his friend. "You just didn't have to drag me out of the bed in the middle of the night, I really think we could've done in the morning," inspector then added with loud yawn. "He dragged us all out of the bed...," John said sarcastically. "A little excitement in the night is never a bad thing," Sherlock defended himself to which his two friends starred at him as if he's gone out of his mind. "Now, I'm really tired, let's go John, let's get some sleep," great detective then added. "Goodbye, Lestrade," he said as he and Watson proceeded to leave. "Watson? Just a minute, may you?" Lestrade stopped him on his depart. "Yes, sir, of course, what is it," John turned around. "Tell me, how do you survive living with him and not going nuts? As I've heard you're even sleeping in the same room temporarily now, I applaud you for surviving it!" Lestrade looked at John with some kind of admiration. "Well, sir, the only thing that's calming me down right now is that this is the last night that we're spending in the same room, hopefully tomorrow will everything be back to normal," John answered and Lestrade nodded in understanding "At least our normal," he then added with a sight knowing that with Sherlock Holmes nothing was ever really quite normal. "Goodnight, inspector," Watson then left. "Good night," Lestrade replied.

As soon as they came back to their 221B Baker Street apartment, Sherlock threw himself on his bed. "Well, I'm right off to bed," he mumbled into his pillow. "You?" he then asked his friend. John just gave his friend a silent annoyed and ironic 'what-do-you-think?' look. "Alright, goodnight then," Sherlock answered as he noticed the look, he turned himself around and his body was facing the wall and it could've been seen how the blanket slowly moved up and down as he immediately fell asleep. John slowly climbed into his bed and silently mouthed to himself repeatedly a calming motto: "This is the last night... This is the last night... This is the last night..."

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