Ok, this is another small Sherlock fanfic I've been working on, because I just love the bizarre amount of things that people write about happening in 221b and would like to add to the list :D

Hope all you Sherlock fans out there like them :D

Disclaimer: I'm only saying this once, because I hate having to say that I do not, and never shall, own Sherlock :(

So, here goes, a week of John arriving home to a far-from-normal flat...Enjoy.

oOo

John had always been very good at confronting things. Be it people, situations or his worst fears, he had learned to stand up to them all in Afghanistan. But it was only after all of that, after he'd learned the art through and through, that he finally realised the best thing to do was just not to ask, and he had to learn this, the hard way. The really, really hard way.

Monday –

John had been at work early this morning, tired to the bone thanks to a hell of a lot of running after a serial killer who kept the fingers of his victims. According to Sherlock that was his big mistake. They had caught him eventually – well, Sherlock had done most of the catching – but it was nearing four in the morning when they finally collapsed through the door of 221b – although in this case, John did most of the collapsing . Sherlock had done the I'm-not-tired-I'm-going-to-play-the-violin thing. And he had been playing that bloody violin for three bloody hours.

Anyway so, John arrived home from the hospital, where he had spent one half of the day stopping himself from falling asleep, and the other half sleeping. He was looking forward to a nice relaxing cup of tea, and maybe something decent to eat, rather than the takeaways he had been living on for the past few weeks. Slumping through the door, he threw his bag against the wall, muttered a hello and headed for the fridge.

It was at that point that Sherlock – who hadn't been lying across the couch as John had assumed – leapt in front of him and stayed there, holding out his arms so John couldn't get past.

Not in the mood for any of his teasing, John tried to swipe him away. When it didn't work, he stamped his foot grumpily, "What are you doing?", he yelled.

Sherlock didn't flinch, just took a step forward, making John simultaneously step backwards. "Nothing. You just...can't go into the kitchen".

Mumbling a couple of swears under his breath, John covered his eyes, "Look, I'm just going to the fridge. I need a proper meal, not bloody chips!".

Sherlock shook his head, "Um...no...Definitely not, not the fridge". He shifted on his feet, and wasn't looking the doctor in the eye any more.

OK. Now John was getting suspicious. He looked up at the tall man with an expression he would make if he were addressing a child, "Why not?".

Sherlock lowered his head, "You just...can't...it's...defrosting?". He made it sound more like a question than a statement, and that gave it away.

"Sherlock". John tried his best to make eye contact. "What's in the fridge?"

Sherlock breathed out, "You don't want to know, trust me. Just...get a takeaway".

"No, Sherlock. I do want to know, because it has got to come out eventually, whatever it is, and I'll see it then and I just want to get it over with now and get something to eat". The strength in Johns voice was rising with every word, and Sherlock realised if he continued the argument it would go on all night.

Shrugging, the tall man stepped to the side. His gaze was still flickering around the room, and his fists clenched and unclenched, like he was getting ready to be shouted at...

Ignoring all of this, John stepped towards the fridge, bracing himself. "What is it then? One of your chemical experiments gone wrong? Or have you frozen that skull of you – ". John stopped in horror, because he had opened the door.

And lying on the shelf – the only shelf left because the others had been ripped out – was a head, staring back at him, ice forming around its face. It looked like something you'd see in a zombie movie.

He shut the fridge again, slowly, and didn't move.

Behind him, Sherlock sighed outwardly, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice, "Told you you didn't want to know".

oOo

Yes, yes, I know. The head situation has not only been run through in the actual program, but also several billion times in the fanfic universe. This is just my little spin, and I think it makes a nice start out to the week :)

Thanks for reading, leave a review please, and I shall give you a HUG! Also reviews boost my confidence that this may be good, so please do leave a comment :) thank you, much obliged :)