John walked through the door to the hall and the first thing that greeted him was the smell of pumpkin. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell and walked up the stairs, opening the door to his and Sherlock's flat. What he saw made him roll his eyes in disgust.
The guts of what seemed like various pumpkins were spread about the flat, but not just on the floors and tables, no. Pumpkin hung from the lights on the ceiling, seeds were in every nook and cranny, and the viscous orange pulp was caked on the walls, curtains, fireplace, everything! Even the kitchen had retained some of the damage! John stood horrified at the mess and looked over toward the armchair. And there sat Sherlock, lounging about not paying any heed to John as he looked over his skull, he too was covered in the festive shrapnel.
"Sherlock, why is there pumpkin all over the flat!?" John shouted.
"Bored." Sherlock replied in his usual monotone.
"What in bloody hell possessed you to do this-" John motioned to the room "-whatever this is."
"I wanted to see how much pressure it would take to blow up pumpkins of various sizes." Sherlock replied blatantly before hopping out of the armchair and placing the skull on the fireplace mantel. Turning back to face John and leaning against it.
John stood there slightly stunned, then again they hadn't had a case in nearly a week this shouldn't have surprised him. "I was going to carve those." John retorted.
"And?" Sherlock questioned, his pale blue eyes criticizing.
"I don't know why I even bother." John huffed, shutting the door and shuffling to the kitchen to look for food. Sherlock smiled slyly as he walked by. John opened the fridge to find a severed head sitting on a shelf. "Very festive." John said unenthusiastically, before taking a drink from the top shelf.