"Sherlock? Sherlock! C'mon, wake up." John kicked the end of Sherlock's bed with his foot. He walked over to his face and snapped his fingers. He never slept in.
"Sherlock?" He asked. Sherlock slowly opened one eye and smiled.
"Ah hello there, John." It was odd to John that Sherlock would just smile at him when he was disturbing his sleep. Sherlock hated that.
"Hello. Okay, we have a case to do." John said, clapping his hands together. Sherlock's face was still smushed against the pillow. He was lying on his stomach.
"Don't I chose the cases, John?" He smiled and pushed himself up and looked down. He smiled like he was smiling down on someone who was supposed to be next to him. Almost in the bed with him. Then, he looked up again and shook his head.
"Um, yeah. You chose this one yesterday." John said, putting his hands in his pockets. Sherlock turned over and put an arm over his forehead, blocking the sunlight from his eyes.
"Oh God, is this the one with Ms. Mertz and her husband?" Sherlock groaned. John nodded his head slowly.
Sherlock flipped the covers off of him and stood up. John felt as though he should give Sherlock some privacy but he stayed. He was frozen for some reason. John watched as Sherlock moved to the closet to change.
"John?" He questioned. John shook his head.
"Yes, of course. Excuse me." John walked out of the room, not noticing that Sherlock was smiling.
John went to the stove and put on the kettle. He wanted to make himself a cup of tea. He grabbed a tea bag and put it into the mug he was going to put the water in. Then, he sat down in his chair and waited.
"Sherlock, why don't you have a TV?" John yelled. Sherlock walked out in his blazer and button up shirt with the top button not buttoned.
"I was never fond of TV." He walked over to the stove and took the kettle off once it started whistling. He poured the water into the mug and drank it.
"Hey, that's mine!" John said, standing up. Sherlock looked at him over the brim of the mug.
"I know. It's mine now."
John sighed and collapsed back into his chair. He shook his head and stared into the fireplace that had wood but no ashes.
"It's really hard to be your friend." He said, still staring into the fire.
"Hm, I know that." He sipped the tea again and put it down. Sherlock walked over to his chair and sat down. He clasped his hands together and stuck his two index up and by his mouth.
"What's our case again?"
"Ms. Mertz lost her husband after she went out. When she came back-" John was cut off.
"Her husband was on the floor, dead. No blood or knife." Sherlock said, clearly bored.
"Yes and we have to go to her house to-"
"John, can't we do something else?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Honest to God, Sherlock, we have to at least go over to her house to look around. If you know what happened already, tell me and I'll tell her in a polite way." John said.
"Oh, John, I tell people their husband was drugged in the most polite way there is!" Sherlock exclaimed.
John rolled his eyes and got up. He grabbed his coat and turned around. Sherlock was standing right there.
"That's my coat." He looked at his arms and saw it was huge on him. It almost touched the floor when it was on him. John blushed and took it off. He handed it to him and turned to get his own.
"John, I don't really say this a lot…" Sherlock grinned. John's heart skipped a beat. What, Sherlock, what?! He silently screamed in his head. John felt the words to tell it to him right back on his lips.
"You're extremely short. Honestly, you're like a midget." Sherlock told him.
"Thanks. I needed that." John sighed. He felt his heartbeat slowing down.
"C'mon, let's grab a taxi before everyone starts trying to grab one." Sherlock popped his collar up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. John sighed and shook his head. He needed to stop hanging around Sherlock. He needed to stick up for himself.
He followed Sherlock outside.