John sipped his tea delicately, cursing when the scalding hot water burnt his lips. Sherlock didn't look up from where he was currently examining some toenails from a rape victim.
''Careful,'' he mumbled from his spot at the microscope, ''It's hot.''
''Not shit, Sherlock.'' John shook his head at his flat mate. It had been three months since Sherlock had come back from the dead and needless to say, everything had changed. He'd make his appearance at the pub one night when John was getting wasted off his mind, mourning his friend on the second anniversary of his death, when the bloody git had swooped in and said 'No time to explain, follow me, there's been a murder'. No amount of happiness and relief from John's side could save Sherlock from a massive rant and a couple of punches to the face.
John had changed a lot in the time he had spent without Sherlock. Losing his friend had been a big blow for him a
