John walked through the door to the flat to find it was abnormally quiet. No violin music, no clinking of test tubes, no gun shots.

John walked into the sitting room to see Sherlock with an old, ragged plaid shirt on.

His back was to the window, curtains closed.

The room was dim without the window's light.

He had some sort of easel looking thing set up in front of him.

"What are you doing?" John asked, surprised to see Sherlock so calm, but seemingly not bored. Sherlock looked up quickly, as if he was a child being caught stealing a biscuit from the jar.

"I'm... painting." Sherlock said, looking back down to his easel.

"Really?" John said, "Can I see? What are you painting?"

"It hasn't really taken shape yet, you can't tell-" Sherlock said. John could sense that Sherlock didn't want to show him.

John however, was quite stubborn when he wanted to be. Despite Sherlock's protests, John walked around behind him and looked at the painting.

John was astonished.

"You know what this is called, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Impressionism?" Sherlock said.

"No. It's called abstract art and it's the last type I'd ever thought you would paint." John said.

The background was a fiery mix of oranges, reds, and golds. Streaks of bright green, blue, red, white, black, and purple flowed throughout it.

"It's not abstract. It's impressionism." Sherlock said.

"Then what is it an impression of?" John asked. Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but closed it, hesitating. He'd dug himself a hole. He wasn't getting out of this one.

"It's-" Sherlock hesitated once more,

"It's my..." Sherlock couldn't seem to find the word. Sherlock snapped his fingers.

"I'll tell you in a moment." Sherlock said.

He pulled out his cell phone and pressed number 5 then enter. The phone began ringing, and John wondered who he was calling.

"Mycroft, what do I paint?" Sherlock asked, "What's it called?"

'Mycroft? Sherlock has Mycroft's number on speed dial?' John thought, now quite confused.

"You do know what I'm talking about, right?" Sherlock said. A pause. "Yes, that... thing." Sherlock said, "What's it called?"

John couldn't make out what Mycroft was saying on the other end of the line.

"How can you not know!?" Sherlock said, "Of course there's got to be a name for it! They came up with platypus, didn't they?"


A/N: I wonder what Sherlock's painting... Hmm... And why didn't he want John to see it? Review please!