At 22B Bakerstreet, early in the Saturday morning, music was flooding through the building, soft, simple played violin music. It was almost soothing.

For ones, one might ad! John didn't know whether that violin was the biggest curse on earth or a genuine blessing.

It was a curse because his flat mate could be practicing on at the most ungodly hours, and he didn't care whether it was the middle of a work night or not, Sherlock Holmes honestly seemed to have a liking of staying up all night and then doing nothing all day, unless there was a case to be had.

Worst of all, he only played the thing probably did he feel like it, which wasn't always, for some reason Sherlock had a liking of just torturing the poor instrument, letting the most horrific screams escape it, and John usually laying in bed when Sherlock did that, had long since gotten himself ear plugs and was still pressing his pillow over his ears when-ever it happened.

And still there was a light side, the light side was that as long as the violin was playing, John knew Sherlock was occupied and wouldn't destroy the apartment nor being some-where out on the street getting shot at.

But on some occasion, like now, Sherlock had chosen to actually play the fine instrument, and at a decent hour to, it was a rare moment of peace for John to share with his flat mate on a fine Saturday morning, so rare was such a situation that John had to treasure it.

He was merely sitting listening while he sipped to his tea and glanced over a news-paper, he didn't even really read, he was actually more listening, then he chuckled to himself, remembering that one of the first things Sherlock had told about himself was that he played the violin and stated potential room-mates should know the worst habits of each other before moving in. What was so amusing though was that Sherlocks violin playing was one of the least annoying habit out of Sherlocks impressive summary of annoying habits.

Well, it had happened ones or twice John was just about to snap the damn thing as he had gotten tired home from work and Sherlock had been busy torturing the wood in his hands making you believe a wild cat had gotten lost some-where in their apartment.

John closed his eyes, finding it wondrous anything so soothing and calm could ever spring from his flat-mate, the otherwise always so erective and annoying precise Sherlock Holmes, actually, the violin playing seemed completely out of place for him. '

And when he played, really played that is, you could almost be fooled to think he was another person, the relaxed stand, the tones.. the fact that he did some-thing creative, some-thing along the lines Sherlock would called waste of time, not related to a case.. not important. It was rather odd actually now when John thought about it, and just like that, the music stopped, Sherlock had stopped playing.

John opened his eyes, looked up and saw Sherlock putting down the violin on the floor.. aren't you supposed to put things like that in cases? Did Sherlock even have a violin case? Weren't he afraid that the delicate instrument would break?

Apparently not, and John shouldn't be surprised considering how Sherlock could treat the instrument while playing, as Sherlock just plummeted down in his own chair reaching for a cup of tea all ready standing on the table.

"So.." John cleared his throat straightened his paper. "When did you start?"

Sherlock frowned slightly, then looked oddly at John. "With what?" he asked.

"The violin?" John asked.

"My parents insisted that I should play." Sherlock shrugged.

"Ah, should have figured." John nodded.

"How so?" Sherlock asked looking actually genuinely interested in the answer.

"A person like you, wouldn't voluntarily take out the time and dedication it would take to learn an instrument, unless some-one forced you, you just wouldn't have had the patients." John stated.

"you're learning." Sherlock stated back. "Good deduction."

"Do you play more instruments?" John asked.

"Can't you deduce?" Sherlock asked folding his hands looking slightly interested.

John groaned slightly annoyed. "I never seen you playing anything else." He stated. "Or the least bit interested in other instruments. But since violin is such a classic instrument, and your parents forced you, I assume they were into that classic stuff to, I can't tell but if there is any-thing else, it would have to be a piano right?"

"Ah, so very correct." Sherlock smiled before he sighed a little annoyed. "All though, that should have been a given, a piano will always be the base instrument, to which children learn to read sheet music, or at least in families where parents make sure their children learns an instrument, which is only smart as when you first learn the notes all instruments are just a question about finding out where the note C lies."

"Really?" John asked wondering.

"Of cause they are." Sherlock stated as he rolled his eyes. "It's ridiculously logical and mathematical."

"Music is mathematical?" John asked astounded.

Sherlock raised a slight eye-brow. "How else did you believe one composed music?" he asked.

"I don't know," John blinked. "I guess I never thought much about it, Music just.. happens."

"Like all else it's a work of logic and numbers." Sherlock pointed out slightly amused. "Every-thing is quite logical, as long as you find out how. It will all make sense in the end."

"Yeah right." John rolled his eyes. "Not even you can know all about every-thing." He snorted.

Sherlock scoffed slightly, but didn't reply, knowing that would be a fight all ready lost, and if there was some-thing Sherlock didn't liked, it was to loose face.

"But you never stopped playing after your parents stopped having a say." John bemused pointed out as he continued the conversation as had nothing been happening.

"Helps me think." Sherlock stated pointedly.

"You have no case right now, there's nothing to think about." John pointed out now really bemused and curious all on the same time.

"Then I'm bored." Sherlock returned taking a sip of his tea as if John had just insulted him.

"Figures." John rolled his eyes.

there was silence for a while, John just leaned back in his chair having assumed the conversation over, which was why it surprised him as Sherlock spoke again.

"Sets my mind at ease." He said almost silently.

John opened his left eye looking at Sherlock. "What?" he asked.

"The violin." Sherlock stated in a almost impatient tone. "I told you ones before, my mind is a raging engine, it wont stop, it needs some-thing to do, give me a case and I strive. Without a case I have few ways to occupy this engine inside of my head to stop it from driving me crazy, one of the ways I found you don't approve of, and then there's the violin."

"Ah." John nodded. "Then you are right, I by far prefer the violin." He stated closing his eyes again before opening them. "Does Mycroft play?" he asked suddenly curious.

"The violin?" Sherlock asked.

"Any instrument." John replied.

"Why would you wish to know that?" Sherlock asked slightly confused.

"The thought of him having been forced to learn how to play by his parents just amuses me." John told chuckling to himself. "And just him stepping down to play a piece, yeas it amuse me, he can take being taken down a peck."

Sherlocks mouth spread in a grin as he laughed with John before he at last nodded. "Of cause he does." He told. "Piano, flute and Violin, he was always considered a wonder child."

"The flute?" John asked. "What I wouldn't give to have him play a piece for us."

"Careful John." Sherlock returned. "If Mycroft likes to blow wooden instruments, that is his own business. He might get cranky if you start asking about it." he told while there was a certain glint in his eye.

John was absolutely silent for a couple of moments as he tried to figure what Sherlock had said, then he suddenly realized and just burst out laughing. "Sherlock." He barely got out through the laughs. "That was low! To low!" all though he could barely contain his own laughter.

"Oh come now, the queen of England can afford to take a few blows." Sherlock retorted making John laugh even harder, completely giving up in even pretending to be decent. "Besides you started it." Sherlock pointed out.

John shook his head. "I didn't think that far." He stated. "God Sherlock, and people at the police station accuse you for not having any sense of humour." he amused chuckled.

"They are just not getting it." Sherlock sniffed sounding almost scorned.

John amused shook his head, while refraining to point out that it was probably because Sherlocks humour were a bit to forward and edgy to be any kind of decent, ever. In fact it was a sure way to insult people, but John wouldn't spoil a for ones lovely Saturday by pointing any-thing like that out.

It was a funny thing really, people seemed to assume that Sherlock and John were pretty much joined by the hip. They would assume that him and Sherlock was always together, that John always would now what Sherlock was doing or where the detective was.

But the truth was that John hardly ever knew! Some-times the detective would occupy their shared flats for weeks without going outside for as much as a second, then would always be there as John left and when john came back, one time as John had been away for three days to visit a friend in Chelsea, he was almost ready to swear that Sherlock had not moved an inch from the spot as he came back, but then out of no-where the tall man could just be gone without leaving a saying or trace, and it could be for days, weeks even months!

And today were one of those times, John had been left alone at their shared flat for almost two and a half month, and he was honestly starting to become bored, He was even missing his friend.. even the annoying habits.

It even went so far that John felt guilty about throwing Sherlocks secret stash of cigarettes away when he found them by accident in the Persian slipper right before Sherlock vanished. As if that was the reason for Sherlocks absence.

That was ridicules of cause, Sherlock was most likely out on some kind of case he had been caught up in while John wasn't at home, had run out on a whimp and was clearly still head-deep in it.

And John would never find out what this long case was about as Sherlock never ever told any-thing that didn't have some-thing to do with the here and now.

No, John mostly knew absolutely nothing about where the detective was or what he was doing, even if other people didn't believe him, just the other day Greg had been by the flat.

"So where is Sherlock off to now?" the silver haired D,I had asked.

John had only been able to shrug as he sighed. "Don't know."

And of cause Greg had given him that look, as if he was honestly surprised. "You have no idea at all?" he asked. "Cause I could really use him right now."

"I said I don't know!" John stated annoyed. "He hasn't given as much as a life sign for two months, so I guess he is busy." He stated.

Greg did grow silent by that, and then asked carefully. "You don't think he is in trouble do you?"

John bit his lip. "It's Sherlock, of cause he is in some kind of trouble." He admitted. "But I really don't know any-thing, he as always, just vanished."

"You don't want to report him missing?" Greg asked.

"God Sherlock would hate that." John winched. "Beside this is just typically him any-way, if he is in real trouble he would find a way to make us know, and I'll be there."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked.

"Absolutely." John stated firmly. "If he needed me he would have taken me with him, but he didn't this time, and that's that."

And that was yesterday, now John was just sitting in his armchair, he had absolutely nothing to do, he was just starring out in the air feeling ridiculously lazy, "God what I wouldn't do for some-thing to happen." He mumbled mostly to himself.

And then.. almost as on cue, the front door opened, John sat up straight and looked towards the entrance where a tall detective now waltzed through, tall, lean and… sunburned?

The otherwise always ghostly white detective had gotten quite a healthy sun-burn, especially on his cheeks and neck, without a word Sherlock plummeted down in his own arm chair, threw his coat aside, threw the scarf on the floor, leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed..

And that was it..

No words of hallo, no greeting, no explanation, no nothing.

John lifted an eye-brow looking at the out of no-where returned detective, for some moment he just looked at Sherlock he sat with closed eyes leaning back in his chair, at last John cleared his throat. "Well?" he asked.

Sherlock opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times before his eyes found John, and he blinked again, as if he was extremely surprised to find John there. John couldn't help but notice how Sherlocks new tan made his eyes look more blue than usual, they looked almost unusually blue. "Well what?" Sherlock at last asked.

"Where have you been?" John asked a little impatiently.

Sherlock leaned back in his seat as he waved his hand again. "Been busy." He told as he waved at john signaling that he didn't want to talk.

"Sherlock, you've been gone pretty darn long this time, and no one knew where, I've been asked to report you missing several times." John stated.

Sherlock lifted an eye-brow. "You didn't do that did you?" he asked.

"I almost did." John stated. "A month more without a sign and I probably would have."

"Why would you do that?" Sherlock asked sounding both confused and down-right annoyed.

"Because I worry, Sherlock." John stated sounding annoyed.

"Worry?" Sherlock asked sounding insulting. "Now what good is that?" he asked in a disgusted snort.

John literately face-palmed himself by that comment. "Forget it." He stated annoyed. "But Sherlock, the next time! If you don't want me to report you missing, and then have some police force pulling you out of what-ever exciting case you are in the middle of. Just send me a bloody texts!" he stated. "Just one! Say, I wont come home for a week, of if it's longer, send another one saying I will be gone for this month."

"What do you need that kind of information for?" Sherlock ased.

"So I know you have not been abducted or some-thing crazy like that." John stated. "And I know you, so I know it's very likely."

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer but then silence, his mouth kept on opening before he slowly closed it, looking puzzled at John. "I still don't see the point." He bluntly stated. "Whether you get a text or not wont change the facts."

"Sherlock, like it or not I am looking out for you." John stated as he crossed his arms. "Call it a stupid human sentiment or what-ever you like, but I am a soldier and when you are a soldier you look out for your comrades, we were all competent fighters all clever, so there was no shame in looking out for each other, exactly because what we did could be dangerous.

Call it my instinctual habit based on stupid human emotions or what-ever you want, and do it as a favor so I can set my mind at ease and I will have an honest answer when every-body whom looks for you go to me." He looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock silenced as he looked down, before he slowly spoke. "This is not the desert of Aughanistan." He pointed out quietly.

"A war zone is a war zone, and you search them out Sherlock." John pointed out.

"Having partners is not some-thing that I am used to." Sherlock frowned slightly annoyed.

"You pulled me into this." John reminded him. "And beside, do you have any idea how annoying it is that every-body whom needs you goes to me all the time, and I can't give any of them a straight answer."

"Just tell them I am busy." Sherlock replied potentially making John roll his eyes.

"All-right then, here's the deal." John stated as he stood up. "If you are suddenly gone, for three weeks, and I don't hear from you, at all, I'll report, and then you will come home to a heck of a lot paper-work where you have to explain where you have been."

Sherlocks mouth dropped open. "I was gone over twice as long time this time around." He pointed out in a scorned voice.

"Exactly!" John stated with crossed arms, and as the words had lefts his mouth, he couldn't help but smile potently, check and mate, he thought to himself.

And suddenly it seemed like Sherlock had arrived at the same conclusion, which of cause annoyed him to no end as he threw up the arms in frustration and growled as he stood up. "I'll go make some tea." He suddenly announced as was that the most important thing to happen in the century. "Lord knows I need tea, the tea I last had was horrible!" he stated striding out in the kitchen his jacket flowing after him.

John blinked. "Where were you even?"

But again, as almost always, Sherlock offered no answer, not even a tiny one, just a lot of angry sounds from the kitchen, so all John knew and could deduce with his limited brain was that Sherlock had been some-where with sun and some-where that didn't make English tea. John sighed grabbing his news-paper opening it and disappearing behind it as he yelled. "I would really like some tea as well Sherlock!"

AN;

and I solve the mystery for you right now where the hell Sherlock was.

He was in Pakistan saving Irene Addler, I mean think about it, it's cannon! it happened in the show, some-how Sherlock tracked Irene all the way to Pakistan, infiltrated the terrorists, sat himself up as the executioner at the right time, helped her escape for good. And John knew NONE of that. Maybe it didn't take two and a half month, maybe it was only one month, but both options seems equally possible to me and well, Sherlock returning from that life-threatening adventure just walking in saying. "Hey John." amuses me.