BANG
A pause.
FFFSDDSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
A flash of green light, then loud cursing.
FOOOM
More loud cursing, and then a horrible smell creeping through the seams in the window sill.
John sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes furiously. This was the fourth time this week that house had had loud noises and strange smells and cursing emitting from its mysterious kitchen.
Padding into his much quieter and better smelling kitchen, John switched on the light, put the kettle on and checked the time.
2:43 AM
John grunted annoyed and glanced out the window. Purple smoke was rising from his neighbors chimney, not two yards across the cramped lawn that was littered with cracked and ruined beakers that were unceremoniously tossed out the window every morning.
John assumed they were supposed to land in the bins under said window but they only ended up shattering or landing in the grass and gravel next to it.
Setting his mug down on the table, John nearly soiled his pants with spilled tea as he jerked at a particularly loud screech from across the way.
He sat down hard in his chair and rubbed his temples.
Suddenly, John was jolted from his thoughts by a crash against the side of his house.
Jumping up, he poked his head out the window.
It seemed one of the beakers had been cast a bit to enthusiastically out the window and had shattered against the broadside of Johns abode, leaving an unearthly yellow, sizzling streak. There was no shout of apology, and John cursed silently at the tall figure moving about frantically behind the drawn shades.
Avoiding social interactions of any kind were a top priority for John right now, he wasn't ready. He had no idea how to chat and make small talk, or even start a proper conversation with someone.
For the past six weeks since he had moved into the tiny house, John had avidly avoided confronting his neighbor about his early morning scientific habits.
However, it seemed that now, with John resigning to sleeping pills that only enhanced the vividness of his nightmares, he would have to either
A) file a complaint
Or
B) confront his neighbor himself
Not wanting to deal with the paper work but also afraid of being blown up at the front step, John was torn between relying on the authorities and using his own means.
By the time he got to sleep that morning (no earlier than 4:45AM) he had made a decision.
RAP RAP RAP
Sherlock mumbled and rolled over in bed.
RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP-
"Alright, alright I'm coming," he yelled angrily at the door.
Wrapping himself in the nearest dressing gown he could grab, Sherlock stumbled tiredly towards the source of the noise- his knocker.
He straightened his shirt, ruffled his hair, opened the door and yawned hugely.
John was befuddled. This pale, tall, dark haired blue eyed young man was not the mad Einstein-esque scientist he had been expecting at all…but he shook off thoughts of…other things and stayed on task.
He had a mission.
Sherlock smacked his lips, clearing the sleep from his mouth and waited with eye brow raised for this short, stout, blonde, green eyed ex military doctor with a psychosomatic limp (who happened to be his neighbor, he recalled) to explain himself.
"What do you want? I've never had a client come this early."
John shook his head.
"No, I'm not- client?"
Sherlock sighed.
"Well what are you here for then?"
John straightened up a little.
"You're to loud. At night. With the booms and the lights and the smells. I can't sleep."
The man had a look on his face that was anything but remorseful. In fact, John thought he was almost…was that…smirking?
Sherlock was enthralled.
This was a perfect opportunity, just the challenge he needed.
"Alright," he started. "I'll be quiet."
John started to walk away, but Sherlock kept talking.
"On one condition! First off, what's your name?"
Of course, Sherlock knew. He did extensive background checks on all his neighbors. But he wanted to hear it from John himself.
"John. Watson," John said, after a moments silence and awkward staring.
"Alright John. I'll be quiet on this one condition."
John pursed his lips.
"Yes, you said that, what condition?"
"You go on a date with me."
John thought there was water in his ears from his shower.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You have to go on a date with me."
A pause.
A bird chirped.
Sherlock chewed his nails.
Maybe it was the sleeping pills, maybe it was this mans mesmerizing blue eyes, John never knew.
But before he could think about what he was saying,
John was saying, "Yes."