1.

Sherlock was crapping on about egg-cups and everyone in the vicinity felt stupid. A normal Thursday morning, John decided. Anderson was being insufferable, wandering around with coffee and a smirk. He and Donavan weren't on speaking terms anymore, which was sad, because it was easier to hate them as a unit than as two separate people – so much extra effort.

The scene was particularly gory. The body had been stripped of flesh and body organs, it was literally a carcass, and John had felt useless when he couldn't even calculate how long it had been dead for.

"I've seen this in a show before." He'd said, because he had.

"What did it?" Sherlock had asked, not really caring about the answer.

"Aliens," John admitted, because it couldn't be that.

"Can't be that, then." Lestrade pointed out.

Sherlock and John both turned round, and looked at him like he was stupid. This was when John saw it.

"Sherlock, that coat on the floor looks like that one in that photo."

Sherlock inspected, jumped up, put his hands on either side of John's face and kissed him square on the mouth before jumping and spinning around singing 'You solved it, John, you've solved it!'

John was too occupied by looking like he wasn't occupied by the kiss to realise that those hands had just been on a fleshless corpse not three seconds before they'd touched his face. Anderson had snorted his hot coffee through his nose and was now spluttering, bent in half. Sherlock took the time to look at Anderson like he was something on the bottom of his shoe – no, with more dislike. Sherlock often found things useful for experiments on the bottoms of his shoes. Only in London… - and then he was off, and John was chasing after him.