NA: This first chapter has little to do with the rest of the story, 'real action' starts on chapter 2. Enjoy! :)


I still remember the day when the letter from SHIELD arrived. It was 9 am in the morning when I'd woke up. Sherlock was still at in the bedroom and I started making breakfast. While the bread was toasting, I decided to check the mail, and immediately a letter with the USA eagle stamped on its front caught my eye.

"What's this?" I whispered.

I turned the letter to see the context, it was surprisingly short and didn't give me much information.

SHIELD

East Coast Dept.

"What the…" I opened the letter wondering what the SHIELD could be, and the first look let me know that it was some kind of official organization, because there was the USA eagle on its top. It said the following:

Dear Mr Watson:

My agency has been trying to get in touch with Mr Holmes, but since there has been no answer, I have decided to contact you, his closest friend.

We have heard about Mr Holmes, and we know, by reliable sources, that he is the best in his field…

"Well, he's actually the only one in his job, he invented it" I thought with amusement.

… and so we need his services to get rid of a case that is being really hard to solve. We are trying to catch a serial killer that has been acting for over five years now, but we still have no clue of who he is or what his modus operandis is. I'm afraid I can't give you more information about it, but it will be a pleasure for me to explain all the details of the investigation and to discuss the case credentials in case Mr. Holmes solves it, he must call to this phone number:

1212890946

Sincerely yours,

Agent Phil Coulson"

I was about to leave the letter on the table and to go take the bread out of the toaster when I saw a little strip of text at the end of the letter, partially covered with the SHIELD stamp, which I hadn't noticed.

Basic credentials for solving the case: 10.000 $

My brain needed a moment to process what I had just read. Then I realized, but I was like in shock.

"But…" I stammered "But… Oh my god. Sherlock… Sherlock! Sherlock!"

I ran to the door of the bedroom and started to knock at it the harder I could, probably creating a dent.

"Sherlock, get out of bed, now!"

No answer.

"Sherlock, please!"

"Okay, calm down, I'm coming" I heard Sherlock answer in a sleepy voice.

I waited nervous in front of the door, re-reading the little paragraph once and again.

"What do you want?" asked Sherlock as he opened the door to look at me annoyed.

"I…" for a moment, I forgot what I was going to say. He was just wearing his blue housecoat undone and… MY red pants.

"What…" I stammered staring at my red pants.

"Oh, for god's sake" He fastened up the bluecoat "Now, what do you want?"

"Sherlock, are those my pants?" I asked him pointing at the pants that I knew for sure that were mine. Sherlock rolled his eyes and was about to close the door when I decided that my pants could wait.

"Sherlock! Wait!" I yelled holding the door to stop him from closing it.

He stopped and looked at me with this so icy gaze that only the Holmes brothers can do, and suddenly I remembered how tiny my pants looked on him and I forgot what I was going to say again.

"Yes, I…" I had to say something quickly, before Sherlock said bored and closed the door "Sherlock, a letter!" I remembered suddenly "This letter" I repeated putting the letter just in front of his eyes. "That's… They say… 10,000 dollars, Sherlock!" I cried at last, knowing I was in shock and wouldn't be able to articulate a complete sentence for a while.

Sherlock took the letter from my hands and started reading it, his eyes passing quickly across the lines. At some point he smiled a little. Then he finished reading, looked at me and said:

"Not interested"

And in front of my terrified look, he took the letter and tore it in little pieces which he threw above his head with a fast breezed movement.

My mouth opened in surprise. Although I knew that money was unimportant for Sherlock, I still couldn't believe what he had just done.

"Don't you smell burning?" asked Sherlock ignoring my reaction.

Although I was debating with myself what to do first, if punch Sherlock in the face or ask him about why he was wearing my pants (which have me really intrigued and also a bit troubled), I realized that he was right, it smelled like…

"Oh my god!" I screamed "The toasts!"

Effectively, when we both entered running at the kitchen, the toaster was on fire.

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock yelled, and he began to hit the toaster with a dishcloth. I took a bowl and fill it with water, and a second before I throw it over the toaster Sherlock realized what I was doing and screamed:

"NO!"

But it was too late, and Mrs Hudson crossed the door just in time to see the hellish toaster explode. Then the cupboards that were above the toaster started to burn too.

"Oh, yes, perfect! Thank you, John!"

"But I…" I mumbled trying to process what has just happened while Sherlock was taking his mobile phone to call the firemen.

"There is fire at 221B Baker Street" he said as soon as someone picked up the phone. "Yes, my name's Sher-

"Sherlock, dear, your housecoat is on fire!"

I was very confused and the smoke was starting to make cough, but Mrs Hudson cry brought me back to reality and I realized that, effectively, Sherlock's housecoat was beginning to burn around his ankles, so I ran to him and threw his housecoat away, making his phone fall right in the middle of the hellish state of a toaster. He needed a second to understand where his housecoat was and what had happened to his phone.

"Jooohn!" he yelled, his face turning red as he approached to strangle me.

Mrs Hudson always explains "the story of the hellish toaster" when we have guests and she has drunk more than two wine glasses. Her favourite part is when the firemen arrive to the flat and they find Sherlock and I fighting at the floor between the flames, Sherlock just wearing MY red pants (I still don't know why the hell he was wearing them or how did he get them) and still trying to strangle me.

We ended sitting at the back of an ambulance, Sherlock covered with one of the stupid shock blankets and explaining to me that you never have to try to extinct a fire with water when the object that is on fire is an electric apparel.