John bent over the body while Sherlock watched from behind. He circled Watson, watching him use Sherlock's deduction skills on this scene.
"There's a hair on his collar," Watson tilted his head and squinted his eyes. He grunted as he straightened his knees, standing straight. "It's not his."
"Brilliant!" Sherlock clapped his hands, grinning. "You have learned well. Tell me, John. How did you do it?"
"Well, he is a blonde," Watson started explaining, motioning to the victim's hair. "But I noticed a dark brown, long curly strand on his coat collar. I figured we might have a clue."
"42.5 seconds!" Sherlock shouted happily, putting his hands above his head in victory. "It's a new record for you, John!"
Sally Donovan walked into the room. "The freak has been timing John's deduction," She laughed out loud. "Quite hilarious, actually."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Donovan, you make my brain ache," he said, irritated. "Okay, John. We send the hair to the lab to test whose it is."
Sherlock rolled on a glove and grabbed an evidence bag. He plucked the hair with sterilized tweezers and dropped it in the bag, sealing it tightly shut.
He shoved it into Donovan's hands and watched her walk away. Sherlock pulled off his glove and pulled Watson in for a hug. "You are doing so well, my friend," He kissed the top of Watson's head. "Very, very well."
"Thank you, love," Watson replied, wiggling out of Sherlock's hug. "Coffee?"
"Coffee."
Sherlock leaned across the table and planted a kiss on the tip of Watson's nose. John smiled and scrunched his nose, a cute gesture he did often.
Sherlock sat back and sipped his coffee, watching John intently. John pulled his coffee cup to his mouth and let the steam blow onto his face before sipping it.
He licked his lips after he sat his coffee cup down. "So was my deduction really brilliant?" He asked Sherlock, smiling.
"Not as quickly as mine, but you're getting there," Sherlock replied, smugness in his voice. "You are most certainly improving. It's a slow process, but you are doing quite well."
"I've learned from the greatest," Watson grinned, scrunching his nose again.
"God I love when you do that," Sherlock whispered under his breath. Watson's grin slowly faded into a small smile.
"What?" He asked, furrowing his brows.
"When you scrunch your nose like that," Sherlock repeated, louder this time. "It's bloody adorable, that's what it is."
Watson smiled, scrunching his nose intentionally this time. Sherlock exhaled deeply and sunk down into the bench, grinning.
When Watson came through the door, Mycroft and Sherlock were in the living room bickering. "Sherlock, if you can't play it right, I don't want to hear it!" Mycroft stared hard at the violin in Sherlock's hand.
"I'm messing up the song to get you out of our flat!" Sherlock snapped back at him, pulling the strings. It emitted a high-pitch screeching noise, making Watson cringe.
"I suppose I'm never leaving then," Mycroft crossed his arms. They both noticed John standing there. "Ah, John!"
"Welcome back, love!" Sherlock sat his violin aside and got up from the chair. He crossed the room and pulled John in for a hug. Brushing his nose on Watson's cheek, he whispered in Watson's ear, "Get rid of Mycroft, please."
Watson nodded and turned to Mycroft. "Would you like to walk downstairs with me?" He asked. Mycroft sat there for a minute, his lips pouted as he thought.
"Yes, that would be nice," He nodded, getting up. "I was leaving anyways. I can't stand to hear another minute of that awful violin playing."
When Mycroft turned his back away and began going down the stairs, Sherlock started smiling and dancing in this pleasant victory.
John and Mycroft walked downstairs and they stood out in the crisp morning. "Dr. Watson," Mycroft began, turning to John. "You need to know something about Sherlock. As you know, I only mean to protect him."
"Yes indeed," John nodded. "You told me this on the first day we met."
"As you may know, Sherlock has recovered from drugs; But not completely. I still worry for him, and I want you to make sure he doesn't resort back to drugs," Mycroft explained, turning back away from Watson and watching the cars pass on the street. "If nicotine patches help him keep his mind off drugs, then he must continue using them."
"Okay," Watson sighed. Swirls of his hot breath blew around in front of his face. "I will try my hardest to protect him from drugs."
"Don't protect him, that's my job," Mycroft hailed a cab. "I shall see you soon, John." Mycroft climbed into the cab and waved once before shutting the door.
John stood there for a moment until the cab pulled away. He went back inside the flat and upstairs, to find Sherlock playing a beautiful song on his violin.
"Is he gone?" Sherlock stopped his playing briefly, looking up at Watson.
"Yes," John sat down in a chair and stretched his leg out to prevent it from getting stiff. "You know Sherlock; he is only trying to protect you."
"He's only trying to be a pain in my arse," Sherlock sat his violin aside and looked at John. "What was he talking to you about?"
"Something about your drug addiction and how I should do my very best to prevent it," Watson pretended as if he hadn't been paying attention to the conversation with Mycroft.
"Of course!" Sherlock shouted, zapping up out of the seat and onto his feet. "He always brings up the drug addiction! Don't fall for that trick; I am 100 percent keen. Drug free."
"I worry about you just as much as he does," Watson replied to this statement.
"You have a worrying problem, then," Sherlock said, laughing at his stupid little joke. "No, I understand you want me to be ok."
Sherlock got on his knees in front of Watson so their faces were at the same height. He leaned in and gave Watson a quick kiss, his hands on both of John's knees.
John kissed back, moving his hands to the back of Sherlock's head. He entwined his fingers in the thick black curls and closed his eyes.
"Forgot my umbrella," Mycroft said from behind them. "Oh. Sorry to ruin the moment."
They stopped their kiss and both looked at Mycroft. Mycroft smiled sheepishly and picked up his umbrella. "Adorable," he said on his way out.
Sherlock got up and went over to his chair and sat down, picking up his violin again to resume his song.