If someone had told him beforehand the image, the scene he was going to see once he opened the door of his own room, John Watson would have believe him. He knew his flatmate was capable of everything. And when he says everything, is everything.

But after a long day at surgery, the only thing the Doctor wanted to do was changing his clothes, take a hot and long shower, have a nice and warm cup of tea and a night in which he could sleep non stop, without the notes of some Vivaldi or Mozart concerto downstairs in the sitting room.

He passed a Tesco in his way back to the flat. He remembered in no more than three seconds that they were running out of milk, jam, bread, beans... tea. He was quite sure there wasn't anything to eat at 221 b Baker Street. And he could bet anything you want that Sherlock hadn't left the flat the whole day. How did he know? A shot in the dark, of course. Holmes hadn't texted him since he left very early in the morning: 'Bored' SH.

So, walking back to his place with all the things he thought will be needed, the Doctor opened the black door, finding Mrs Hudson looking up the stairs. She looked worried, with a deep frown between his eyebrows .She greeted him, but before letting him go, she whispered something refering her other tenant.

"He has been very silent all day, John. I wanted to go and check on him, but-"

"Don't worry Mrs Hudson. He might be sleeping, finally"

She smiled at him and without a word she went back inside her place. He hadn't lied to her, but he knew it was impossible to say that Sherlock was sleeping, and not because of the time. Because with Sherlock Holmes everything could be happening.

The door was open, as always, and the sitting room and the kitchen were deserted. Not a sign of life there. He checked the kitchen. The chemistry equipment was unused, and the sink was full of mugs so at least he has been drinking tea.

The sitting room was peaceful as well. The violin was neatly placed over the desk and the telly was turned off. The bookshelves were complete, except for his book Grey's Anatomy which was placed over the sofa, closed.

His first deduction was that Sherlock may be out, but his coat and scarf were hanging on behind the door. So no, he was inside the flat.

He didn't want to deduce if he was in his room or in the bathroom, so he left the groceries over the table and climbed the last stairs of the building to change his clothes. It was silent, so he couldn never had expected what he saw.

He pushed the door open, finding in front of his body mirror a naked man scanning his own body- what?

John Hamish Watson was speechless. No matter how much his brain wanted to send signals to his lips, to his throat, he couldn't articulate a word. In front of him, and in front of his large body mirror was Sherlock Holmes naked, examinating and looking at his body through the mirror. His messy and curly hair was falling over his forehead and his long and pale hands were resting on his bony hips.

"Wha-"

"John, can you help me? there's something wrong with me"

For seconds that lasted an eternity to the Doctor, he couldn't say a word. A few minutes ago he was looking forward to spend a lovely afternoon in front of the telly, eating toast with jam and drinking his tea. But instead of that, he was looking a naked man -no, his flatmate naked and looking at his body like if he was looking a crime scene. He looked puzzled like if he was trying to deduce something for the color of the mud on some victim's shoes.

"I've been observing myself this morning and I've got a few spots under my hips and near my penis, can you take a look and tell me what these are?"

He turned around to face John, who was still silent on the doorframe. He was lost in the man in front of him and his flatmate was looking directly into his eyes with those grey and alien eyes. None of them noticed the steps getting closer and closer to John's room.

"John, I forgot to give you this lett- Oh, sorry! Oh!"

When the Doctor reacted, his landlady was already gone and Sherlock was smiling, happily.

Unbetad, not Brit-picked, any mistake is mine. I'd love to hear what do you think.