-Chapter one: John-

Sherlock had been immersed in his experiments for the past few days and barley had time to stop and focus on the things he deemed unnecessary or useless; things like 'eating' or 'sleeping'. Only in the brief moments of the morning before work did we have our small conversations usually consisting of nothing more than "sleep Sherlock. Now." Or the even more frequent "eat Sherlock, I mean it." To my knowledge he ignored me, except for the rare time I came home to find him eating the left over pasta I had made him, although he denies ever doing so. The thought made me smile and I started to leave meals in the fridge for him to eat at his convince, at least it was better than him eating nothing at all.

On the fourth day of his frantic scientific discoveries did I come home and decided enough was enough. I had walked home that evening from work thoroughly ticked off thanks to one particularly prat patient having claimed that if I didn't give him pills for his "pain" he'd sue. Even to me, the humble surgeon without the deducing brain of a 'god', it was obvious that the man was a junkie looking for a fix. Shortly after the having out I left, leaving the nurse to pick up the stranglers that wandered in the night and as always to call me should anything come up. When I reached the flat I could see the light was still on from the window and was fully prepared to storm upstairs and give Sherlock a piece of my mind to finally sleep for the night.

I walked in the door way and was stopped by Miss Hudson. She was smiling her usually motherly smile "hello deary" she said cheerily "I'm just about to go out with the girls tonight" I heard the distant honking of a horn from outside "tell Sherlock to take that head out of the freezer, its starting to stink up the place." She huffed and scrunched up her face."and make sure you don't get into too much trouble boys" she patted my back and with one more honk of the hurried horn she left out the door "I'll tell him Miss Hudson" I smiled and waved as I watched them drive off safely. I closed the door and locked it securely. Turning on my heal I took off up the stairs eager to have my nightly ritual of evening tea while watching telly, after I force Sherlock to bed of course which would most likely be a difficult task, and that was putting it mildly.

I opened the door fully expecting to see Sherlock buzzing away looking through a microscope, or talking to the skull about the fundamentals of who-knows-what, which I had caught him doing more than a handful of times. The last thing I had expected to see was what I was presented with; opening the door I encountered Sherlock sprawled out over the couch with his lengthy legs sticking out awkwardly over the edge. He wore the shirt I had seen him pouncing around this morning in, going on about something I was too tired to understood to but enjoyed listening his rant none the less. His curled was matted and looked as if he'd been running his hand through it all day. The chocolate curls fell and all over his face were his deep gray green eyes were closed peacefully. Seeing him in a way that directly contrasted his normal over bearing brilliant self made my lips curl in a happy smile, he left out a cute little snore and I had to try to suppress a snort of laughter that might wake him. Really it should be illegal to be this adorable. I grabbed the blanket from the nearby chair and laid it over him affectionately. With one last look over the sleeping man I smiled to myself and flicked the light switch in the kitchen. I went to my room and closed the door quietly and dreamt of Sherlock.