John Watson slumped down in his chair, pulling his Union Jack pillow into his lap. To most, it would look like he was deep in though. Sherlock wasn't "most" though. He probably wouldn't notice any difference if John had grown an arm out of his head or joined a fight club (they had bruises on them enough as it was, so John doubted many could pick up on that anyway). Sherlock's inability to notice his flatmate's off mood didn't bode well for either man. The last time the doctor was in a foul mood, Sherlock had walked away with a black eye and a bloody nose.

John was fairly certain the same would happen this time around, if he were provoked.

Sherlock was in the kitchen behind John, completely focused on his experiment. Which seemed to involve ears sliced with different knives. The detective positively shivered with excitement, sending half a bloody ear across the table only to land with a disgusting plop on the floor. And apparently that was enough to make John snap, seeing as the man bolted to his feet, absolutely seething.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock!" John griped, throwing his pillow onto his chair with far more force than was needed. "It's not enough that you have a whole two shelves in the fridge for body parts, or half the cupboards for your experiments, is it? You've got to bloody up the counter and the floor and the muss up the entire bloody house!" Furious, he pick up the ear with a fork that was laying forgotten on the table and shoved it towards the detective, his lips curling in disgust. This wasn't the first time that Sherlock had made a bloody mess in the flat, and it was hardly the last, so it was a mystery as to why John decided to make a big deal out of it because of a simple slice of ear.

"Really, John? Of all that I impose on you, this is what you chose to fight about?" Taking the dissected pinna of the outer ear, Sherlock studied his flatmate and hummed quietly, nodding to himself. He assessed the situation, eying the doctor's stance and facial expressions. "Ah, something has come up. A call from your sister?" He wondered aloud, setting away his experiment and pacing towards his friend. "Something that has you on edge. You are extremely stressed, though it isn't directly correlated to your work at the clinic or your work with myself."

"Sherlock, shut it already," John groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back against the wall dividing the kitchen from the living space. Silence hovered around them for a few long moments, sighs escaping the doctor's lips. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, you know? You're always bloody right."

Silence wormed its way into the room again, floating between the two with a tension that only John felt. Sherlock had lost interest for a moment, but the doctor was expressing strange signs, and he wanted to investigate the reasons behind his odd behavior. Stepping forward and narrowing his gaze, Sherlock deduced everything he could about the doctor. From the toast and beans he had eaten earlier on his dark green jumper to the multiple phone calls that showed from the faint marks on his cheeks, he could pick up almost everything, but he couldn't seem to grasp the specifics.

"You've spoken to your sister three times this week. You've also been in contact with... a government service of sorts, though I can't specify which. The stress has been on the rise for days, since the first call you received three days ago. I cannot decipher why you are enraged about an ear slipping my grasp. It is certainly not the most disgusting thing I have done-"

"It's absolutely not! That's half the bloody reason right there, Sherlock! I'm sick of opening the cupboard to find a plate of cooked spleen or the mug Mrs. Hudson gave me for Christmas covered in purple God-knows-what-!"

"-That was a mixture of sodium and-"

"-I don't care what it was! I just don't want it all over my things! Why must you make such a mess of everything? Can't things just stay nice and clean for one day? I bust my arse at the clinic, I bust my arse cleaning up everything here, and I bust my arse trying to keep you on the good side of New Scotland Yard, and I get nothing in return but more hell placed on my shoulders!" John was clenching his fists, shaking slightly with the anger that boiled through his system.

After a short pause and a few minutes to cool off, the doctor had paced the length of the flat three times before stopping at the sink to fish out the kettle. Sherlock had resumed his work, though half focused on his friend and half focused on the ears. Part of him even managed to keep a grip on everything he touched, making sure to keep his mess confined to at least one area. He didn't wish to be on the military man's bad side (again).

"Are you going to explain?" Sherlock asked some five minutes later, when a cuppa was placed next to his hand on the countertop. John froze beside him, having hoped that Sherlock would forget about the conversation (he could delete irrelevant things, couldn't he?)

"You were right, like I said. I talked with Harry a few times this week. Things are a bit not good. Well, very not good, actually," John sighed, rubbing at his temple with one hand while he sipped at his tea. "And I did phone up a government agency actually. Almost wished your brother was there to butt in." He stopped talking, taking a deep breath and a large sip out of his steaming mug.

"You wished for Mycroft? Really, John, dare I ask what could warrant that sort of hopeless wish?" Sherlock stepped back from his work, raising a simple brow at the other while sipping at his own tea. The two watched each other for a minute, one wishing he could escape the conversation and the other wishing he could delve into his friend's mind.

"Well, let's see... Harry and her bloody drinking has ruined so much that we put together..." He sighed again, steeling himself to admit the truth. "I'm now guardian of a four year old girl named Alice."


A/N - So, short beginning to my new fic. After the first few chapters, this will be mostly drabble/ficlets/whatever you want to call them. The good thing about that means I'll probably post fairly often, and there's a good chance that I'll be writing/posting another fic while working on this. Feel free to send prompts or ideas at any time! Please review/favorite/alert/something