My very first story here on . I previously published the first three chapters of this to DeviantArt, but here is the first one! I decided to publish here in the hope of a wider audience, I suppose. XD
And reviews? Please!
Heh. Anywho, I might publish the other two later, and then continue the story. :D If I like it. I haven't decided whether I do or not at the moment, see.
Chapter One - The Beginning
"Why is there never any milk?"
John Watson's complaint was partly muffled by the slam of the fridge door. Their almost constant lack of milk was beginning to grow quite the annoying regularity. And it more than puzzled him as to where, exactly, it all went.
But it wasn't as though he was likely to find out.
After all, due to the predictable nature of some of Sherlock's 'experiments', he thought it probably best to not know.
After a fairly disappointing root around in the kitchen cupboards (all he found was a very-nearly-empty packet of twiglets, a box of cornflakes far past the use-by date and a tub full of some substance he would rather not identify), John settled into the sofa with a sigh. Sherlock, who had up until then been sat wordlessly burying his nose into some sort of book (it seemed the cover was ridiculously defaced), glanced at the doctor over slightly-yellowed pages.
"Did you hear that?" The doctor asked, eyes slightly narrowed as Sherlock began to look around the room, his main focus point being the window. Of course, it was silly for John to even presume that his flatmate would be talking about his previous question. Sherlock Holmes had an awful tendency to ignore most things anyone, but himself, said.
Holmes did not take any notice to the other man's resulting eye roll as he positively leapt from the armchair, and almost sprinted to the closed window. John, almost subconsciously, noted that they were in dire need of cleaning. Until he realised what he'd just thought, and couldn't help but frown at himself.
He chose not to follow Sherlock, however, figuring that within a couple of seconds he would figure out just what exactly the man had heard. And, soon enough, after a quick glance out of the barely transparent glass, the detective was bounding around the flat like a happy fawn. John couldn't help but be reminded of Bambi as he watched, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"Oh, yes! Yes, yes yes! Brilliant!"
John could only just hold in a snigger, and it was lucky that Sherlock wasn't currently paying attention, so his smile could be mistaken for one of mutual excitement.
"Three weeks! Three weeks of nothing, John! And now, see! I knew something would come along. I just knew it..." Beginning to mumble to himself, Holmes threw John his jacket from the coatstand, grinning like a cheshire cat as he waited for the doctor to ask. And he even opened his mouth to do just that, though it was only for Sherlock's benefit (as he already knew what the answer would be). The words would have escaped his mouth, too, if the interruption had been just a few seconds later.
Only of course there was no longer any need to ask, as Detective Inspector Lestrade strolled through the empty doorway.