"JAWWWHNN! IT'S URGENT!"
"WHAT?! WHAT?!" Shouts John as he races up the stairs to their flat from Ms. Hudson's kitchen.
"I forgot the milk. Would you mind running to the store and obtaining some?" Sherlock states in a nonchalant demeanor as he flips through the newspaper searching for an interesting case.
"SHERLOCK! You CAN NOT scream bloody murder for me to get milk! I THOUGHT SOMETHING DREADFUL HAD HAPPENED!"
"Is Sherlock alright?" Ms. Hudson inquires from down below.
"YES ACTUALLY HE'S JUST FINE!"
"I didn't scream by the way and you're throwing a fit." Sherlock calmly states, still lounging in his chair, reading the news. A faint meow is heard from the bathroom. "Also we have a cat. I left it in the tub for you to clean. It's getting rather troublesome, do you think you could calm it down and bathe it."
"I-I oh... I'll deal with you later..." John says, finally toning down his rage as he rushes down the hall to the kitten. Sherlock has let his paper down a bit to smirk in John's general direction as he grumpily shuffles to the bathroom.
John's POV
I can't believe him! Almost everytime he forgets the milk and comes back with something absurd instead. I mean l just ask for a little milk and instead I get a cat! That man... Sometimes I wonder why I stick around. At least he picked up a cute cat. Looks like a stray but frankly it is rather adorable. His eyes make me think of Sherlock though...
The smokey grey kitten with the deep twinkling and wondering eyes scrambles up my arm onto his back and then onto the floor as soon as it get's the chance. Dammit! I rush to get up to chase it down when Sherlock strides in wrapped in a blanket holding the kitten.
"I overestimated your abilities to aid a cat." Sherlock says.
"And you think you can do better."
"Better than you at least. After all I am the one holding the cat."
He smiles and then I start laugh. Once you know Sherlock you really can't stay mad at him.
After a bath and severe grooming we're all back to sitting in the living room. Sherlock is still wrapped in the blanket, only now he's intensely watching the news, attempting to pick up any clue of a case worth following. I'm editing the blog while the cat sits on the arm of my chair when I hear Sherlock mumble something.
"What?"
"What. Is. It's. Name? Are you deaf?"
"Sorry I can't signal into your mumbles and it's a she by the way."
"You didn't answer my original question..."
"I was always fond of the name Margaret."
I hear him mutter "dull" as I say my preference. "Well what would you like, to name her?!" As I said that she jumped onto my laptop causing hand to move the cursor just a fraction of a centimeter from the word paradox. "Is "paradox" acceptable?"
"I suppose... But I'm calling her Para."
"Fine by me."
"Jawwwnnn..."
"What?"
"I'm bored. Everything's going well for the people."
"Normally that'd be a good thing you know?"
"But I'm not normal. I'M BOORRREEEDDDD!" He says as he slumps in his chair. "And cold..." I move the laptop away and Para onto my lap before I begin to throw small balls of trash paper at him.
"What the... John what are you doing?" He asks me as one hits him right in the middle of his forehead.
"You're bored. I'm testing your reflexes. And right now you're failing. Also I get double points if I hit a cheekbone." I say with the straightest face I can muster.
"What is it with your obsession of my cheekbones." He says with a grin that soon fades away when I hit his left cheekbones with a wad of paper.
"It's not an obsession. They're just there and mysterious." I throw another wad only he catches it and throws it back I do the same. It goes back and forth like this for a while, occasionally actually hitting the other with the paper, until we a hear a familiar rhythm of footsteps coming up the stairs. Frantically we both dump the paper on the floor, Sherlock looks to the news and I resume editing the blogs.
"I made tea if you boys would like any?"
"Yes very much so thank you Ms. Hudson."
"I would enjoy a cup."
"Say thank you Sherlock."
"Thank you."
"That's alright John I've become used to his greetings and familiarities by now." She says with a smile and warm twinkle in her eye.
"AAAAHHCHOOO!"
"Bless you, Sherlock are you ill?" Ms. Hudson asks with genuine concern like a mother of sorts.
"I don't get sick."
I get up and try to feel Sherlock's forehead for a fever until he slaps it away.
"I'm not sick I just sneezed. Everyone sneezes!"
hands him his tea and as he begins to drink I quickly feel his forehead and find that it's burning hot!
"Sherlock you have a fever."
"NO I DON'T." He rawrs. He can be such a stubborn arse sometimes.
"You poor dear I think I have some medicine downstairs." And she quickly runs down to her flat.
"Sherlock, you need sleep." My patience is wearing thin.
"I need a case, is what I need."
"Here John. I didn't know what he would need so I brought a few." She hands me an assortment of bottles.
"I'm not taking, any medicine because I'm not sick." He says slamming his mug on the table.
"We'll see..."
"Here Sherlock let me get you some more tea."
"I'll come help Ms. Hudson."
"Oh John, such a dear."
Sherlock wraps the blanket even tighter around himself and returns to the news as we head downstairs.