"Sherlock Holmes"

5 months. 5 months had passed since that day at St. Bart's when Dr. John Watson first met Sherlock Holmes, the man that turned out to become his new flatmate. And what a meeting that had been. In retrospect John knew that meeting Sherlock had been the moment where his life had changed radically. Sherlock had saved him, saved him from himself or at least the dark and lonely person he had became after returning from Afghanistan. Though John knew that it was the case it wasn't something he had ever shared with the detective. There really was no point in busting the man's ego more than it already was. Sherlock even after 5 month still proved to be an enigma, a riddle that John couldn't solve. He was like a tornado of energy, always on to another case or a new experiment that often involved severed body parts in the fridge or as John shockingly discovered yesterday morning human tongues in the tea kettle. Sometimes more than other Sherlock's quirkiness drove John absolutely mad but most of the time he would just let it slide mostly because Sherlock could when he wanted to be utterly charming… a smile or a slight pout could often make John forget why he was mad.

"John…John!"

Sherlock's raising insistent voice snapped John right out of his deep thoughts. He blinked a couple of times to refocus as he turned his head towards his impatient flatmate. Sherlock was sitting in his usual arm chair tapping his foot against the floor.

"Are you even listening to me?"

As he spoke he pursed his lips into an endearing offended pout. When not given the amount of attention that he needed Sherlock was most likely to turn into a 3-year-old. The sight of the grown man with pouting lips and annoyed eyes made John smile softly as he admitted;

"I'm sorry Sherlock. Momentarily lost in thought. What were you saying?"

Sherlock pursed his lips even more as John heard he mutter something underneath his breath about how it was impossible for John's ordinary thoughts to be of greater importance than his own. John said nothing but the smile remained on his face.

"I said I'm bored John. Bored! There hasn't been a case worth my time in weeks! What has happened to all the criminals of this city?"

"It is summer Sherlock and it is hot as hell outside. Even the criminals are taking some time off. Maybe you should too."

John casually suggested making Sherlock groan loudly in frustration as he jumped to his feet and started pacing in floor. He looked almost manic with his wild eyes and his robe flying around his slim frame.

"Time off! I can't by no means take time off John. I need a case, I need something to do before my brain rots!"

"Then take one of the cases on the website if it is that big a problem."

John grabbed the day's paper from the table and looked on the front page. Sherlock was as usually right, there really wasn't anything big going on for what felt like the first time since John had moved into the flat on Bakerstreet. Meanwhile Sherlock had stopped his pacing and was now standing in the middle of the room glaring at John.

"You really deem any of those cases worth my time? Could you please find my missing puppy? A burglar stole my favourite necklace, can you retrieve it?"

Sherlock quoted the requests from the website with badly hidden disgust and when John failed to respond he continued his ranting.

"Who do they think I'm? I don't care about their trivial and insignificant problems. I want a murder John and better yet a clever murderer!"

In frustration he slid a hand through his curly black hair and then threw himself down on the couch. He threw a short look over his shoulder to see if John was paying attention and he groaned loudly into the nearest pillow when he found that it was not the case.

"John how can you be so heartless? Sitting there reading your paper… Don't you care about the fact that I'm going mad?"

"You might find going to be a bit of an understatement Sherlock."

John calmly replied, his face still hidden behind the paper. Sherlock snorted disdainfully from his place on the couch although the sound was slightly muffled by the pillow his head was still buried in. John lowered the paper just enough for him be able to look over it at Sherlock who is laying all sprawled out on the couch, all long limbs, pale skin and behind the pillow a messy tangle of dark hair. He sighed quietly to himself but couldn't keep a smile of his lips as he finally gave in, put the paper down and rose from the chair.

"Right then. Stop sulking and get off the couch Sherlock. We are going out."

Sherlock lifted his head ever so slightly from the pillow, his face remaining neutral but the interested spark in his eyes remained.

"Out?"

"Yes out. You know fresh air, a change of scenery."

He grabbed a firm hold of Sherlock's hand and pulled the reluctant man up from the couch. He looked up at Sherlock who was still looking slightly annoyed and definitely still bored. John found himself staring a little longer at his flatmate than usually and he still hadn't managed to let go of his hand that was remained wrapped in his own.

"Are you going to stare at me all day John or are we going out?"

Sherlock snapped making John pull his hand away from Sherlock's quite quickly before he turned his back to the other man in an attempt to hide the faint blush in his cheek. Fortunately Sherlock was already crossing the room picking up his coat from where he had disposed of it last. John watched his movements and was quick to snatch the coat out of Sherlock's hands when he returned.

"Oh no you don't."

He dropped it on the couch while Sherlock watched in clear confusion.

"You are not wearing that coat today. It is hot as hell outside."

"I always wear my coat John. It is a trademark."

"Well today it isn't. Come along."

He said as he placed a firm hand on each of Sherlock's shoulders and pushed him with him out of the flat and down the stairs.

"We are going out Mrs. Hudson!"

He yelled out as they passed the landlady's door before he opened the door and dragged Sherlock with him outside in the bright sunshine.

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