Sherlock was driving John mad. It had only been two days without a case. Two bloody days.
"Two days is a lifetime for a fly," Sherlock informed him. He did this without pausing in his pacing from the window in the kitchen to the windows in the sitting room. John was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The wooden doorframe dug into his back, the only way he was able to stand there without being jabbed by the swinging of Sherlock's bony elbows.
"You've got dozens of cases in your email, why don't you take one of those?" John said, knowing full well that his suggestion was futile.
Sherlock let out an almighty snort, the blue tail of his dressing gown hitting John as he stalked by and into the living room once more, this time making a beeline for his violin. John groaned internally, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn't slept because of the damned violin the night before, and he wasn't in the mood to hear it again.
"Sherlock Holmes, put that bloody thing down," John said, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.
He heard an annoyed exhale and the petulant sound of a bare foot stomping on carpet. John opened his eyes, his annoyance rising from manageable to sky high levels. Sherlock was giving him an affronted glare, and sticking the violin underneath his chin.
"Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock brought the bow down on the strings in one long, screeching drag.
Fine then, John thought. If Sherlock was going to act like a child, then like a child he would be treated. "I'm going to count to three."
Sherlock ignored him, dragging the bow over taunt metal strings again with absolutely no attempt to make the sound pleasant.
"One."
Sherlock's bow faltered, but he continued the ear-shattering noises as if it hadn't.
"Two."
John saw Sherlock's jaw tighten. The violin sounds didn't stop.
"Thr-"
Sherlock flung the violin from under his chin, whipping it back onto its stand. He then flung himself across the room and collapsed face-first into the couch. John stared for a moment, a grin slowly breaking over his face. He hadn't expected it to actually work.
John shook his head in amusement, then walked across the room. He nudged Sherlock's head, then sat down when the detective moved. Blissful silence settled over the flat for a minute.
"I'm bored," Sherlock whined, and John threw his head back against the couch in frustration.
For the wonderful cptn-jhw.