John sat back in his chair with his cup of tea, and looked around the sitting room with great self-satisfaction. Sherlock was at Bart's, probably driving poor Molly crazy, so the ex-Army doctor had taken advantage of his flat mate's absence and cleaned.
The case files were put away, the stray newspapers were in a neat pile at the end of the sofa – after the last incident, John knew better than to toss anything. Honesty, from Sherlock's resulting tantrum, you'd have thought the poor doctor had killed Mummy! John could even see the top of their shared desk now and that, in itself, was a miracle!
While hoovering, he'd also found seven mugs, five plates and almost all their missing cutlery. It was no wonder they could never find anything to eat off and instead made do with eating straight out of the takeaway containers. Thank goodness John was proficient with chop sticks or he'd starve!
John had only taken one sip of his tea when Hurricane Sherlock came barging through the door, ranting about something. His Belstaff went flying to the right, his scarf to the left, and a pile of papers flung towards the desk missed completely.
As Sherlock hurried off towards his bedroom, John just stared at the gently floating papers and said aloud, "Why do I bother?"