221B Baker Street was actually calm tonight… far from the usual frantic pacings and experiments gone wrong chaos of his flatmate. Bliss.

John had come here on reccomendation from his psychiatrist. Rather, the notion of securing accomodation had been suggested, and he being a stubborn git had backpedalled as hard as he could, before breaking down and admitting he couldn't afford his own place.

As he had sat there in the office, head resting in his upturned palms, the door had been thrown open and a man had entered the room. The psychiatrist had insisted this man leave, but he took one scathing look at her and she stopped babbling immediately.

'Hello john. My name is Mycroft Holmes' he had said, it was simple, curt, at the risk of sounding snobbish due to his upper class accent. John had nodded his own somewhat hostile greeting and muttered 'Hullo' in a gruff and tired sounding voice.

Mycroft had smiled, his eyes remaining cold, the smile meaning nothing, a forced pleasantry.

'Cut to the chase will you' huffed John, a pain beginning to radiate through his leg again. He had begun to absent mindedly trace a finger in a circle at the source of the ache when Mycroft spoke

'I have been following your case quite closely for some time and I have come to the conclusion that we may have a situation mutally beneficial to both parties, if you should accept the offer to move into a flat on Baker Street with my little brother'

There was a moment of silence as John continued to sulk and then he had asked

'How much?'

'Free of charge on one condition'

'And that would be?'

'My brother is an arsehole'

This conversation had led to the handing over of keys, a whistlestop tour of 221B and finally to John meeting Inspector Lestrade and along with him, Sherlock Holmes.

The case was considerably more gruesome than John was expecting. His skills as a doctor had gained him good standing at the Yard, but he was still struggling with the memories from the battlefield.

Before him was the body of a young woman. Or at least everything up to her neck. The head was missing. Forensics was buzzing about everywhere and John could barely put a foot in front of the other without someone barking at him to watch his step. His clunky walking cane made things difficult, but his leg was so bad without it he couldnt cope otherwise.

He had been standing observing the body for a while when Lestrade came squelching over through the thick muddy crime scene, another slightly younger man in tow.

Lestrade shoved the other man towards John and said

'Don't be antisocial, you have to meet him some time'

The younger man scowled darkly and turned around to face John. Sticking out his hand, he offered it to shake, then turned to lestrade again and shrugged.

'John, this bag of bones is Sherlock. He doesn't speak, but I'm sure that wont be an issue in your field of work'

'Oh bloody hell' muttered John. Sherlock, who had been crouched on the ground examining the body, turned to look at John and just stared at him for a solid minute. John couldn't help but lock eyes with him.

The eyes staring up at John Watson were like two spotlights, cutting through him and stripping away any air of mystery he might have held before this point.

'N-nice to meet you Mr Holmes' muttered John

Sherlock scowled and held out a hand

'He wants your phone' smirked Lestrade. John fumbled his mobile out of his pocket and handed it to the curly haired man.

When it was handed back he saw that his address book had the name SHERLOCK H in it. A moment later a text was sent to his phone. He opened it and it read

'I prefer Sherlock – SH'

With a nod, John acknowleged this by saying

'Nice to meet you Sherlock'

The detective nodded. No smile accompanied it though.

Still. John felt like if he didn't want to be here he would have left already. He assumed they were friends as it were.

Another text lit up his phone. This one read

'Need to go home and look at pictures of the evidence, coffee on the way? - SH'

John gave a quick, uncertain smile and said

'Alright, but its on you'

A sarcastic but genuine smile crept across the detectives face and he nodded his head towards the taxi rank at the edge of the park.

They left for the coffee shop around the corner from 221B.