John straightened his tie and looked in the mirror. He had bought a crisp, new tuxedo very recently. He ran some gel through his bed hair and took a deep breath. John walked over to the kitchen to hear Sherlock rambling to himself.

"See, that's why in Liverpool I had to extrapolate the-" Sherlock stopped when he saw John appear in the kitchen.

"Did you just get here?" He asked in confusion.

"Yes." John replied.
"Then who was I talking to?"
"Nobody." John answered, exasperated with his roommate.

"No wonder I thought you improved your listening skills." Sherlock replied. On the table was an uncountable amount of drinking glasses, each filled to a different height with a strange orange liquid. Sherlock flipped his goggles down and dropped a little medicine tablet into one of the glasses. All the glasses suddenly set on fire, making John yell and jump back in surprise.

"Sherlock what the hell are you doing?" John cried. Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher. The fire and smoke died down and Sherlock scribbled down a few notes in a lab notebook. He whipped off the lab coat, revealing his usual button down shirt, and sat down at his chair. Sherlock turned and looked at John.

"You've bought a new tuxedo less than a week ago from an expensive place, probably planning to do something romantic with it. You're going on a date with-No, you're planning to ask out someone out. You've shaved, gelled your hair, ironed the tuxedo, and put on your best cologne. So who's that all for then, you haven't had anybody new here in over three weeks." John swallowed nervously and replied in the most confident voice he could muster,

"It's for you."