Sadly I don't own any of these characters however much I wish I did.
But why MY dirty pants?
"Sherlock."
"Yes, John?"
"Can you tell me what it was that possessed you to think that leaving my dirty pants in our fridge would be a good idea?"
"It's an experiment."
John sighed and looked at his flatmate. Sherlock was lying on the sofa staring at the ceiling. His tousled, curly black hair had clearly not been brushed this morning. His long, slender fingers were pressed together touching his chin and his eyes, so pale they could be mistaken for grey, were open but unseeing. Anyone looking at this scene could be forgiven for believing that he was praying but John knew that Sherlock's mind was currently working faster than any normal person could imagine.
"Sherlock, the fingers in the salad drawer were an experiment. The eyes in the microwave were an experiment. I could even deal with the head in the fridge as it was an experiment but how, in the name of all that's holy, do my pants fall in to this category?"
Sherlock turned his head to look and John with surprise.
"It must be so boring in your tiny little brain."
"Why, thank you. That wasn't offensive in any way." John glared at the detective.
Sherlock smirked and turned back to look at the ceiling. "I'm currently very busy cataloguing the different varieties of buttons used by manufacturers. Also, we're out of milk."
"Oh yes." John shot back sarcastically. "That answered my question and I believe it's your turn to get the shopping."
"Take my card."
"Oh no, the last time I took your card, my girlfriend and I were kidnapped and nearly murdered because they thought I was you."
"Yes, but I got there in time so what are you complaining about?"
"What are...? Sometimes, Sherlock, I really do wonder what goes on inside your head."
"Far more than you could ever imagine, John."
John fought the urge to shout at his exceedingly irritating flatmate. He knew from past experience that it was an exercise in futility and not worth getting into. Running his hand through his mousy hair in frustration, he bit back the rude retort that was sitting on the tip of his tongue and scowled at the supine detective.
"Fine, keep your secrets, but am I at least allowed to reclaim my property?" John growled in annoyance.
"You could," Sherlock smirked again, "however, I would not deem it advisable in the current situation."
Not for the first time since meeting his flatmate, John resisted the urge to punch the smirk right off his face.
He settled instead for a grunt of exasperation which only seemed to make that damn smirk worse.
Suddenly, a look of calm settled over John's face and Sherlock twitched an eyebrow at the intriguing new development.
"Well," said John thoughtfully, "I would so hate to ruin your experiment by contaminating the fridge so I guess you'll have to get the milk when you know your experiment is concluded. Now, I've got to get to work or I'm going to be late. Try not to set fire to the flat today."
He flashed Sherlock a charming smile, grabbed his coat and sauntered out of the door. A slow smile broke over Sherlock's face. It appeared that his experiment had produced an anomalous result and nothing excited him more than anomalies. It seemed that John was in fact far slyer than Sherlock had given him credit for and Sherlock never underestimated people. The consulting detective clapped his hands together in glee. Discovering the depths of John Watson was proving to be a far more interesting experiment than he had first anticipated and his brain was already busy devising yet another new surprise for the blogger.
After all, he did so hate to be bored.