The warm sun shone through the window and into John's bedroom. He sleepily rubbed his eyes, beginning to sit up. After stretching out his arms, he yawned and started to get out of bed. He could already tell that today would be slow, like all the days his past week had been. He and Sherlock hadn't been getting many cases lately.

John took a quick shower and pulled on some trousers with a striped long sleeved shirt and a dark red jumper. He could hear a noise in the kitchen so he went down to see what was going on. Was Mrs. Hudson making breakfast? It was highly unlikely considering the amount of times she had made it clear that she 'wasn't their housekeeper' and they never had anything to cook in the fridge anyway, apart from human body parts which, undoubtedly was off the menu.

John walked over to the kitchen doorway and saw something he almost couldn't believe. Sherlock was cooking something. Sherlock Holmes was cooking.

''Who are you and what have you done with my friend?'' John inquired with a chuckle. Sherlock just looked up from his frying pan and smiled. ''Good morning to you too! I'm frying eggs.''

John shook his head and asked ''Ok, and why? It's just, you don't generally...help out.'' He decided to come over and look past Sherlock's shoulder. Surprisingly, they eggs didn't look so awful.

''I'm bored. I needed to occupy myself. Get some plates, will you?'' Sherlock turned off the stove and John watched in disbelief. Sherlock actually just made breakfast.

John did as he was told and Sherlock served the fried eggs onto each plate. They wouldn't be able to eat at the table because there was so much rubbish over it (though John had learned not to call it that) so they headed to the lounge to eat their meal. As John sat, he questioned, ''should I be worried? Did you put something in these? Is this another experiment, like in Baskerville, because if it is—''

Sherlock cut him off. ''They're eggs. I just cooked them. Eat.'' He got some onto his fork and put it in this mouth. ''See'', he remarked, ''I'm eating them too.'' John rolled his eyes and took a bite almost laughing as he did so. They were actually really good, a lot better than he'd expected. ''These aren't terrible,'' he stated. He did not want to give Sherlock too much praise. The man could get cocky.

Sherlock smirked and nodded. ''I know.'' Soon, they were finished and Sherlock went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. John sighed and muttered ''what's up with him...''

He ignored it and sat down to watch telly while he waited for Sherlock to finish. A soap opera was on, but he was too lazy to change the channel. Before he knew it, he was sitting there all involved with Tanya's string of lovers when he heard a voice behind him.

''I take it you're enjoying the programme.''

John turned around and stood up. ''Jesus! Don't scare me like that,'' he exclaimed, scratching the side of his head. Sherlock shrugged. He looked over at the television and demanded, ''Give me the remote.'' John handed it over, just for Sherlock to turn it off.

''Wow, it's not like I was watching that or anything,'' John mumbled. Sherlock looked at him and replied, ''I know you were, but so were quite a few single women in their thirties across town. Now, let's do something, I'm bored.''

John furrowed his brow. ''Something? What do you want to do?'' Sherlock threw his head back and groaned while John looked at him with such confusion. ''I don't know, something! Anything! We've got nothing to do. No cases, crap telly, nothing interesting in the newspaper...'' he complained.

''Ok, do you want to go to the cinema or something? Maybe go to the shops?'' John suggested hopefully. His flatmate could be a real pain in the arse sometimes.

Sherlock crinkled his nose and said, ''something interesting, John.'' Watson began imitating Sherlock, throwing his head back and groaning. ''what do you want to doooooo?!'' he whined, rather like a child. Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle, noticing that he probably looked this ridiculous, just moments ago.

John joined in, laughing at how immature they were both being. ''It's no wonder that neither of us have proper jobs,'' Sherlock spoke, shaking his head. John inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. ''Let me get my coat out of my room and then we'll do something, whatever that 'something' might be.'' John began walking towards the hall and he was right next to the doorway when Sherlock turned him around.

''What is it?'' he asked, but Sherlock wasn't listening. He pushed John back an inch and John was now against the wall. The army doctor was twisting his wrists, trying to get them out of Sherlock's grasp. Sherlock pinned John's arms up on the wall with one hand, so that they were above his head.

''What on earth are you doing?''

The detective ignored John and placed his other hand on the side of the shorter man's neck. ''Sher-''

John didn't finish his sentence. Sherlock leaned in and pressed his lips on John's, closing his eyes. John was taken aback at first but slowly let himself melt into the kiss. Soon, his eyes were also shut, his hands out of Sherlock's grip and instead in his curly, soft hair.

The kiss soon ended and they stood close together, John's back still pressed to the wall. ''Why did you suddenly...'' John's voice trailed off. He wasn't complaining, he was just quite curies. Sherlock half-smiled and answered plainly, ''I guess I was just bored.''

John said, before going to get his coat, ''Get bored more often.''