When John came home from his morning run he found a rather nervous looking man being ushered from 221B by Sherlock. The man was well dressed in a tailored suit and silk tie. But the suit was wrinkled and the tie has a stain. It looked like he had lived in the clothes for several days. The man himself looked like he hadn't slept for days. He stepped out on the pavement and turned to face Sherlock who was about to close the door.
-So we can expect you in the office then? There was a hint of desperation in his voice. John had learned to pick out those small hints in people's voices during medical school. A certain hitch in a patient's voice could mean there was something they weren't telling him. But since he moved in with Sherlock his ability to read people through their voices had grown exponentially.
- Just send me all the paperwork and I will see you later. Sherlock on the other hand looked as calm and collected as always. Even though he was only wearing his pyjama bottoms and dressing gown. It bellowed around him when he turned around, ready to close the door. When he saw John on the other side of the street, a hint of a smile appeared on his lips and instead of closing the door he left it open and disappeared into the flat. John walked past the man in the suit, gave him a quick smile and closed the door behind him. He could hear the thump that told him that Sherlock had flung himself on the sofa. Not a very interesting case then. If it was a good one, Sherlock would be too restless to lie down. Instead he would pace the apartment. As suspected, Sherlock was lying on the sofa, eyes closed and hands under his chin when John entered the apartment. His dressing gown had fallen aside, revealing a too thin chest. But John knew better than to tell Sherlock to eat something. Instead he walked straight to the bathroom to take a shower. He was deep in thought about how to write down their latest case on the blog, so he was startled when he heard a voice on the other side of the drape.
- What do you know about stamps? Sherlock's voice came from the doorway. John was sure he had closed it before entering the shower. But Sherlock was never one to bother about privacy and closed doors. And John was so used to his flatmate ignoring all usual social cues that he didn't even get irritated any more.
- They are used as payment for post. They usually have the queen on them. Some people collect them. And I think I have some in my wallet if you need some? John could hear Sherlock's sigh and knew he was rolling his eyes.
- If you tell me what this is about maybe I can tell you something useful, he continued. He could hear Sherlock moving around in the bathroom.
- A rare stamp has disappeared from a safe deposit box in the bank of England. Assumed stolen. They want me to find it. John turned off the water and Sherlock's arm reached in behind the shower curtain with a towel. He was grateful that Sherlock at least let him have that amount of privacy. He knew that all the people that thought him and Sherlock were a couple would talk even more if they knew how Sherlock would talk to John when he was in the shower. Or how he would come and sit on John's bed when John was going to sleep because he wasn't finished talking about something. John knew that both he and Sherlock crossed dozen lines each that marked the bounds between friendship and something more. But he couldn't be bothered. Sherlock was his best friend and their relationship worked. He dried himself and wrapped the towel around him before exiting the shower.
- How do you steal something from the bank of England?
- I don't know, was Sherlock's answer. He had a twinkle in his eyes that gave John a warm feeling in his stomach, but also made him weary. That twinkle usually meant more experiments and lots of long nights without sleep.