Hello my name is Unicornmustach. This is my first fanfiction. Written with the help of my friend 13lue13erry.
Hello 13lue13erry here! I wrote the first couple of paragraphs and from then on I just fixed up the grammar :) Please R&R!
WE DON'T OWN SHERLOCK
A blood curdling scream woke Sherlock from his light slumber. Early morning sun streamed through his window. He was in a bed that was not his own. He recognized the blue painted walls as John's room. "JOHN!" He yells, snapping up from his bed. The sheets curl around his legs, imprisoning him and tripping in his hurry. Frustrated, he shoves the troublesome low thread count sheets to the other side of the room. He uses the door as balance to get up.
Disorientated he makes his way to the source of the scream: "the kitchen," he says aloud. Still in a daze from being rudely awoken, his deductions are slow. God damn it! Why did John force him to sleep! He recalls the previous night.
"Sherlock. When's the last time you've gotten any sleep?"
"Hmmm, well we had a case, and then I-"
John cut him off, "You're stalling. You know perfectly well how many days. I honestly don't care when's the last time, but if you want your nicotine patches then you're going to sleep tonight,"
"But my nicotine patches!" Sherlock exclaimed, "JAWWNNNN!"
"Don't call me that! You say it like I'm made of kittens," John grumbled.
"Cause' you are," Sherlock retorted.
"Fine, whatever. I am made of soft, fluffy kittens. I admit it, now go to bed," John said, on his last nerve.
"Fine," Sherlock finally said giving up and retiring for the night, but with the thought of John winning this argument sneaking its way into his mind he came up with a plan that would give him the last laugh I'll sleep in his bed. That way he'll have to sleep on the couch.
Or will he?
Out of the memory and back into reality.
Sherlock bursts into the kitchen, ready fofofofofofofoofoffofofofoofofofofo fo fo…. a fight.