Silence permeated 221b. John Watson sat in his chair, staring blankly at his former flat mate's own chair. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, illuminating specks of dust floating around in the air. John didn't stir, even as steps came thudding up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson appeared in the doorway, carrying several bags.
"Hello, John," Mrs. Hudson said cheerily as she began to take things out of the bags that she placed on the table.
"Hello," John mumbled, his eyes flicking to the side. He barely registered the sound of cupboards being slammed shut, the fridge being opened and closed. Nor did he notice Mrs. Hudson return to the bottom floor. The front door to the flat slammed shut, and another set of footsteps could be heard ascending the stairs.
"Hello, John." Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway. John turned at the sound of his voice.
"Oh. Hello, Sherlock."
Sherlock raised his eyebrow, having expected more of a response from the doctor. He tossed his coat to the sofa, and made his way to his bedroom. John remained in his seat, back to staring at the chair opposite him.
A few days later, Sherlock was sitting on the stool in the kitchen, examining something in his microscope. Since the day he appeared, the cleanliness of the kitchen dissipated, being replaced with Sherlock's science equipment. John walked in, shedding his jacket from his body. He had barely sat down in his chair, when Lestrade came charging up the stairs, panting slightly.
"John we nee-" Lestrade broke off, staring into the kitchen. "Sherlock? I-I, how? I thought you were-"
John turned around, raising his eyebrow. His voice deadpan, he asked, "Oh. You can see him too?"
"Of course he can see me John. I really am here…" Sherlock paused. "Is THAT why you've been ignoring me?"
Lestrade and John's jaws dropped, as Sherlock rolled his eyes.