Chapter 1

It was a normal morning at 221 B. Baker Street. John was in the kitchen, cooking some breakfast for himself, as usual. He had decided to heat up a muffin that he had picked up from the bakery the day before. Sherlock, of course, was still sleeping. John glanced at the clock; it was almost ten. Sherlock should be up soon, he thought to himself as he took a seat at the small wooden kitchen table that was often covered with Sherlock's experiments.

Many people would have probably been annoyed with Sherlock's experiments cluttering the kitchen, but John had gotten used to them. There was something calming about seeing Sherlock's experiments thrown across the table. John ripped off a piece of his muffin and popped it into his mouth. Right when he did, Sherlock came out of his bedroom dressed in a blue robe. His dark brown curly hair was sticking out in random directions. John's eyes lingered on Sherlock a moment or two longer than he would have cared to admit.

"Good morning, Sherlock." he said, smiling.

"Hello John," Sherlock said as he took a seat across from John.

Sherlock picked up the newspaper and quickly leafed through it. After a few minutes of reading, Sherlock threw the newspaper back on the table.

"So boring." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"What's boring, Sherlock?"

"The news! John, there wasn't anything of importance in it."

John chuckled and took a sip of his tea.

"I am sure there is something of importance in it. It is the newspaper, after all."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Well, there isn't anything of importance in it today. Maybe tomorrow the editors will finally publish some meaningful news articles that actually engage the citizens of London."

"Maybe they will. You never know."

"I highly doubt that."

John smirked and finished the last of his tea. Several moments of silence passed before Sherlock glanced up at John and sighed.

"Oh, for God's sake John, just say whatever it is you want to say."

John's eyes widened; he glanced up at Sherlock, stunned. Even though he had lived with Sherlock for months now, he still wasn't entirely used to his deductions.
"How did you-" Sherlock held John's gaze. John shook his head and started over. "Sherlock, I won't be able to get dinner tonight because I have a date."

"Oh, with who?"

"With Allison."

Sherlock grunted; he had never understood what John saw in her. Compared to the girls he normally dated, her IQ was the highest, but she was probably the dullest in Sherlock's eyes. She never seemed to talk about anything important while she visited their flat and she always seemed to tell Sherlock that he should put his experiments away because they "made the apartment cluttered". He did not understand what that meant. He knew that the flat as messy sometimes, but he didn't think that the experiments made it messy. If anything, the experiments made the flat more interesting.

"Now, I know that you don't like her Sherlock, but she might be coming over tonight. If she does, please be nice."

"Okay. I will try."

John smiled and finished off his muffin.
"Thank you, Sherlock. I appreciate it."

Sherlock nodded and got up from the table. He left John to his own thoughts as he went into the family room and picked up his violin. He stood in front of the window and began to play a piece by memory. Deep notes soon filled the flat. John smiled to himself; sometimes Sherlock just played around on the violin, but John had come to appreciate when Sherlock actually decided to play a piece. There was something soothing about the melodies he played. John got up from the table and started to clean the dishes that had piled up in the sink. Sherlock's music made the time go by quickly; before John knew it, he was finished with them. He set down the towel and headed over to his seat. While John was adjusting himself so his leg didn't hurt, Sherlock started to play another piece. The notes he hit were low and soft. John couldn't help but stare at Sherlock as he played.

The playing stopped when Sherlock's cell phone rang. Sherlock tossed his violin onto the seat and rushed over to the phone.
"Hello," he said into the receiver. He nodded several times. "Yes, I will come down, but Anderson can't be- he's already there? Fine. John and I will be there soon. Next time though, don't send Anderson to the crime scene."
He hung up and glanced over at John who was watching him with wide eyes.
"Ready to work a case?" Sherlock asked as he grabbed his favorite navy coat and scarf.

John grinned.
"I'm ready when you are."

Sherlock smirked, grabbed his keys, and rushed to the door. John tucked a notebook and pen into one of his jacket pockets and rushed out of the apartment to catch up to Sherlock.