A/N: This fic is set in between The Empty Hearse and The Sign Of Three. Depending on how much I like playing with these characters in this wonderful sandbox, the non-cannon ideas may continue through the end of series three, and beyond. This is my first fic that I've ever felt confident enough to post, so I do ask for as much feedback as possible. Please enjoy, and thank you for stumbling in on this little piece of creativity.
Chapter 1
Boredom
It was raining on Sunday. For the past four Sundays it had rained on Baker Street. The consistency was infuriating to the curly haired detective, as he stood facing the window to the world beyond. As the droplets hit the window, he became lost in his own mind. A feat, which of course stunned nobody. Consistency and normalcy, two words that had become complacently perched in his life. It made him quite mad. He needed to do something, to make something, to find something to do. Boredom was not becoming on the young man's face.
He continued to watch the rain for a few more moments. Then, without thought turned sharply to his armchair and sunk down into the cushion.
"Still bored?" his partner asked him with a chuckle. John Watson was one to enjoy the detectives constant irritation. It was good for a laugh on occasion and other times it just made him dizzy.
Sherlock looked at John and rolled his eyes with a groan, "Of course I'm bloody bored! Its raining, its Sunday, and there is nothing to do," he pronounced, pounding his fists into the arms of the chair like a child. "I need something to do, please give me something to do!"
"I've been through your email at least a dozen times, there hasn't been anything," Watson replied.
"People don't die like they used to John," Sherlock said with his usual remorse-free verbatim.
John chuckled and stood up, moving to the dimly lit kitchen he once shared with Sherlock. Two years and some change had passed since Sherlock's "death", and John had forgiven him mostly. But Watson had yet to truly spend time in the flat with his old partner. Sure there was a case here and there that they worked on, but the idea of being alone in the flat with his partner and not actually working on things was quite nice. They hadn't done anything of the sort in a long time.
The floor creaked a bit with each step, something that was more comforting than an old floor should be. John glanced around the old kitchen, with its sickly green walls, and tiling all out of place. He always liked the kitchen, even though it constantly smelled of things no kitchen should, and was regularly covered in a thin layer of grime. He opened the fridge, and after sifting through jars of various oddities realized it was empty of any actual food.
"Sherlock, where did all of the groceries go?"
"They were in the way." He replied. "I chucked them."
John's eyes widened as he closed the door a little harder than he should've. "You did what?" he inquired, a bit harshly.
"I chucked them away, it's no problem really," the detective said. "There were experiments to be done and I had no way of accomplishing them with all of the vegetables and such that were clogging the much needed space."
"Sherlock, I bought you groceries for a reason! I wanted you to try and eat something for once,"
"Oh please leave the worrying about me to Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock chuckled. "She does a far better job of it that you do."
John rolled his eyes and moved back into the living room. He knew the detective was right, there was no use arguing it. Although he'd have to explain the credit charge to his fiancé. With that thought in mind, he pulled out his phone and began to flip through text messages. As if it was planned, a ping from Mary came through.
Coming home tonight?
He smirked and typed out a reply.
Maybe, if the high functioning sociopath doesn't lock me away.
John could've patted himself on the back, he was so funny. He glanced over to his best friend, who was deep in thought again. There would be no use trying to talk to him, he'd probably gone into a mind palace again. His phone dinged again.
Enjoy the straightjacket my love.
He laughed out loud, loud enough to make Sherlock turn sharply towards him.
"What?" Holmes asked, looking annoyed.
John shoved his phone into his pocket, "Oh nothing, just Mary."
"Just Mary," Sherlock stated. He drummed his fingers together and stood up, beginning to pace.
John didn't know how much more of this he could take, he needed to run him ragged. Tire him out. They needed a case, or something to occupy their time. John grabbed up his laptop and began to sift through emails again.
"How about, 'My dog is an alien' ?" John suggested.
"Too vague," Sherlock replied, still pacing.
"Okay, 'My tounge is missing' sounds intriguing."
"Medical disorder, send her to a doctor."
" What if we did 'The doors keep switching in my house', little paranormal activity sounding, could be a challenge?"
"Nothing good enough," Sherlock said. "I need something big, something exciting, something I haven't seen yet."
Almost on cue, Sherlock's phone began to ring.
"Mycroft," Sherlock said distastefully, "What do you want?"
"There has been a bit of an issue," his brother said through the phone.
"What kind of an issue? Please speak quickly brother, I have more interesting things to attend to."
Mycroft chuckled into the phone, "Theres a package arriving for you, I checked it this morning so nothing is going to explode in your face," mycroft paused, "Well it might explode, but it won't hurt you."
"What are you on about Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, growing more irritated by his wonderful older brother each second.
"You'll see soon, just a tip though, you may want to make sure you don't smell like a dead rat," Mycroft chuckled.
Sherlock stared down at his phone as he ended the call.
John looked at his partner confused, "What was that about?"
"Mycroft, delivering a package to me this morning," he replied.
"Well there's something exciting," Watson added.
The bell rang, and Sherlock moved down the stairs with a bit of pep in his step. Although his amazing older brother was a thorn in his side, he couldn't say too much horror about him when he provided Sherlock with a bit of excitement.
Standing outside the door, was a girl. No taller than Mrs. Hudson, with long dark hair and brown eyes. She had high cheekbones and a fair complexion with quite a few freckles. She looked up into the face of the detective and smiled.
"Hello brother mine, long time no see,"
