Sherlock sat on his chair. He hated being not having a case. Hated it with a passion. He would literally take any case in the world right now. He would solve the murder of the Pied Piper, who went missing in wonderland, and was eventually found to have been killed by the wonderful Wizard of Oz. That was just a little item he had formulated in his mind, though. Something to keep him occupied. This scenario was highly illogical. Perhaps that was what made it interesting.
John lay in bed. Tock follows tick follows tock follows tick and so on. 11:33 AM and Sherlock was still silent. It scared John. Scared him more than being woken up at seven by that bloody violin. Sherlock was supposed to be shuffling around, or asking Mrs. Hudson to take out the rubbish, or anything else. The point was that he was supposed to be making noise. Such a thing was not happening. John decided it was time to get up.
John shuffled through to the living room. There sat the famous Mr Holmes, staring out the window. Not making a sound. He thought it best not to provoke him. After all, this peace may last. John went to the kitchen for breakfast, before realising he wasn't hungry. Maybe he was catching up to this high-energy lifestyle.
He sat down at his computer for the morning's news. He clicked on Sky News. "….And further gang violence in the capital, as former rapper MC Romeo was shot in central London in the early hours of this morning….." Droned the video. "Meaningless," thought john. He was bored. By his standards, London was quiet.
"Shot six times in the chest." Sherlock said, almost imperceptibly. "What was that?" asked John. "MC Romeo was shot six times in the chest by a Hackney gang member in retaliation for Romeo having stolen a stereo from Dixons, in Croydon. The gang member had his eye on that stereo for a while. But now, having killed Romeo, the gang member has learned that the stereo has been sold to a local fence who refuses to give it up. The fence is his next target."
John was unmoved. "I suppose your homeless network told you that?" he asked. "Indeed." Came the reply. "So what next, then? Ladytron beheaded live on stage by Islamic fundamentalists?" Sherlock stood up and grabbed John by the shoulders. "I need, John. I need a case, a challenge, some sort of exercise for my mental capabilities." He said quite urgently. "Maybe we could just take a break?" Asked John. But Sherlock's grim expression told him otherwise. "Nonsense!" Snapped Sherlock. "I have great mental facilities. Said facilities should not go to waste milling around the home, looking for things to do. They should be out in the thick of it, exposing who did what and why and when and where and how and….. Oh, god. What have I come to?"
John was mystified. He thought he would reassure Sherlock of his abilities. "Relax. Probably nothing important has happened because criminals across England and far beyond have realised that the great Sherlock Holmes would catch them. You must be like a grim reaper to them." Those were all the words he could muster, and in retrospect, they seemed quite clumsy. Fortunately, Sherlock didn't seem to pay attention.
"Teach me." Blurted Sherlock. "Teach you? Teach you what?" This day kept getting more surreal for John.
"Teach me how to…." The word struggled out of his mouth. "Re... Re... Relax." John bust out laughing. "How to relax? Teach Sherlock Holmes how to relax? Oh dear. I believe this day will be horrifying beyond belief…."
