A series of drabbles in which we catch glimpses in the lives of our favourite detective and doctor team. Be warned that there will be varying degrees of slashyness (male/male) so if that isn't your cup of tea, find another teapot. Not to say there won't be other characters but the primary focus is their relationship. The chapters won't be in chronological order – you've been warned. Oh, and that pesky disclaimer, right: I'm borrowing from Guy Ritchie who borrowed from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. (Well. Sort of.) Your comments are welcome.

DOMESTICITY

Dead of Night
In which we will pretend an operator was up to connect the call

"H-Hello?"

"Good evening, Mrs. Watson. Does your husband not have adequate medicine on the top shelf of the pantry?"

"What?"

"The infection is mild now but it will gradually worsen if you don't have it looked at. One would think with a doctor in your bed, he'd ask you for the appointment."

"Who is this?"

"Then again you married a man who can't tell if another man is dead."

A rustling of bed sheets. The creaking of a mattress.

"Give it here, Mary – who is this? Speak up!"

"No need to yell, Watson. My ears are perfectly fine, thank you, though I think your roaring has just –."

"Holmes."

"Yes?"

"It's...half past three."

"You're squinting at the clock again. I thought you put it in your planner somewhere to have your eyes checked."

A loud sigh. "Half past three, Holmes."

"That late already?"

"Has something happened?"

"If you mean the fact that Gladstone emptied the contents of his stomach six times over a period of twenty six minutes, then yes, a lot has happened. And a lot of it on my shoes for that matter."

"Holmes."

"Yes?"

"Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Play your violin."

"I don't want to."

"Stop being such an impetuous child."

"Is the sex terrible?"

"What?"

"Because you seem irritable, Watson. Surely, she's not that bad in bed. What with such a healthy man between her –."

"What's he on about now, dear?"

"Ah, n-nothing!" The voice drops to a hiss. "Holmes, I won't have you speaking about my wife that way."

"What way? I am merely stating the facts."

"No, you are stating carefully rehearsed points intended to make me leave my house and show up at your front step with a cane and a loaded revolver!"

"Ah, Russian roulette. Now there's one we haven't played in a while. I'll have Mrs. Hudson bring up some vodka.

The grinding of teeth. A lengthy sigh. "Good night, Holmes."

"I'll -."

A click. Then silence.

Mary looked at her husband as he turned off the lamp and slid back under the covers. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, darling, absolutely nothing." And John went to bed, grumbling about vodka and shooting mad men who had nothing else better to do on cold nights.

The site's doing a weird thing with not letting me upload any new documents. I figured a way around it (by editing my existing documents and uploading those) but I don't know when I'll be able to have the next drabble up. Hopefully sometime soon. Please review :)