Sherlock had sent John out to fetch more milk and jam. He was currently sitting on the couch, hands steepled, trying to figure out where it was all going. Neither himself nor John sleepwalked, and they certainly didn't just go through gallons of milk and jars of jam this fast. It simply wasn't possible given the number of hours they each spent at the flat. Sherlock would have known if Mrs. Hudson had borrowed some as well, and no one but John and himself had been here. It was certainly odd… they couldn't just get up and walk away…
Sherlock's train of thought was disturbed by John returning complaining about self check out lines. From the mantel, the skull watched, the permanent grin showing nothing of the irritation he felt because the shopping hadn't taken John longer. He would need to come up with better ways to get Sherlock alone with him…