Hello everyone. Just wanted to let you know that this is my first attempt at writing. I will try my best to make this story as entertaining as I can and the characters as in character as possible.
Please let me know how I am doing. I'm not really confident in my writing ability but it's something that I have wanted to do for long time.
So, hope you enjoy.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
John was tired.
He had just come off a twelve hour shift at the surgery and he could feel every minute of it in the ache of his tired muscles and the pounding headache he had acquired along the way.
He was also starving, having been unable to stop for a proper break during the chaos of sickness and injury that filled the hospital during his over-long shift.
Walking up the familiar creaking steps to the flat, he decided that his hunger out weighed his tiredness by at least a small margin.
Turning his key, he opened the door with a greeting.
"I'm back. Do have anything other than severed body parts in the fridge? Because I am-" The sight of Mycroft Holmes standing in the middle of their flat caused John to pause mid-sentence.
"Mycroft. To what do we owe this particular pleasure?" He asked as he hung his jacket by the door. "Do we have a new case?"
Mycroft looked to John, his emotionless eyes scrutinizing him as always.
"No. No case, Dr. Watson. I was just visiting."
John looked over at Sherlock as he heard his put upon sigh.
"Actually, my brother was just leaving." Sherlock said with a sneer in his elder brother's direction.
"Very well, Sherlock. I am extremely busy anyway." Mycroft conceaded, pulling his collar closer to his neck as he walked towards the door.
"I'll walk you out." John offered politely.
Mycroft turned with a strained smile.
"No need, Dr. Watson. Good day." Mycroft replied with a nod towards John before leaving.
"Ugh! Finally!" Sherlock complained as he dramatically threw himself onto the worn sofa.
John chuckled lightly making his way into the kitchen.
"He can't have been here long enough for that amount of fuss." John supplied as he opened the refrigerator.
"Damn't, Sherlock!" John yelled, slamming the door back closed. "I thought we agreed. No more severed heads!" John reprimanded disapprovingly.
Sherlock huffed
"We agreed to nothing. You made demands. I simply chose not to follow them."
John huffed at his unconcerned flat mate as he reached into the cabinet for the loaf of bread.
"You know, a little consideration would be nice once in a while, Sherlock." John grumbled, staring at the toaster.
Sherlock shot John an annoyed look. "I'm always considerate of you, John. I stopped doing experiments on the kitchen table, because you asked me too. I tidy up my work space once a week as agreed, because you asked me to. I apologized to Sargent Donovan last week when you told me to."
"That's what you're supposed to do when you've done something wrong." John lamented as he spread jam over his toast.
"She started it. You didn't nag her to apologize." Sherlock complained petulantly.
"Ugh...I give up." John said with a sigh as he sat down in front of his first meal in hours.
"So, what was Mycroft doing over here anyway?" John asked between bites of his toast.
"He was congratulating me on another year of sobriety." Sherlock said annoyed.
"That was nice of him." John replied, finishing up his meal. Sherlock just huffed.
"How long has it been that you've been clean?" John asked curiously.
"A good while. The last time I used was roughly seven months before we met." Sherlock replied getting up and walking over to the kitchen. "I was found unconscious. Some idiot called Mycroft and he forced me into rehab." Sherlock supplied as he reached for the extra peice of toast he knew John had left there for him.
"Wow. I never knew you went into rehab. It worked out though, right? I mean you got clean." John replied passing Sherlock the jam.
"I suppose I should be thankful to my brother. Without his interference I would never have gained such an important asset as you." Sherlock thought aloud.
"What? How so?" John asked, confused.
"I had only been out of rehab for a week when you met me. Mycroft was insistent that I live with him but finally agreed to me living by myself on the stipulation that I find a flat mate." Sherlock supplied.
"So Mycroft is who I need to thank for gifting me with such a difficult flat mate, then?" John said with a smile.
Sherlock returned it before turning away and heading over to his chair.
"Well, I'm going to get some sleep." John said, standing up. "After I wake, maybe we could go out for dinner? Not sure I want to bring any groceries into the flat, what with that head in the fridge."
Sherlock looked to John with a slight smirk.
"Fine."