Just some short little nothings that mean everything: I had this idea pop into my head at 3AM so I thought I would share :D
I am not an etymologist nor do I play one on TV, I'm just making it up based on what I know. This whole thing is just for fun, so please don't beat on me with wet noodles (riding crops, though...he he he!)
The Mess
Everyday someone has to go out of their way to ask John why he puts up with his and Sherlock's incredibly cluttered flat.
Once it was a new client who had rudely barged in through the door just as John was straightening up a leaning tower of textbooks; just as the rather large man swept into the room, the whole pile hit the old carpet with a resounding thud. The man gave John a rather pitying look then proceeded to gaze through the kitchen door at the consulting detective whose face was pressed up tightly against the microscope on the kitchen table. The man made a rather nasty snorting noise through his nose and placed his meaty hands on his almost-hidden-by-the-spare-tire-around-his-middle- hips and leaned over directly into John's face, seriously overburdening his already too-tight trousers, and said:
"Those are so obviously not your textbooks, so why doesn't the genius clean up after himself? Are you the housewife? I wouldn't put up with it, you know." The man's beady little eyes tried in vain to cut through John's self esteem and bring him down to his level.
Before John could even answer the man and tell him that he had indeed been using the textbooks to search for the name of the rare bacteria his partner was currently studying in an effort to save the life of a nine year old boy who was currently in hospital there was a loud growl from the kitchen. Before John could explain that the child had been stabbed by a serial killer caught in the act and that the blade had been impregnated with the bacteria and it was only because of this mess that there was any hope of the little boy living to see a new morning...before any of that, suddenly Sherlock was crowding the much heftier and taller man right back through the door on a long, loud string of deductions about his penchant for cross-dressing and perhaps that is why is wife stole his little black book in the first place? And, no, Sherlock Holmes will not take this case because it does not even rate a one on the scale of boring-to-exciting.
Naturally, Sherlock was not even so gracious as to say "have a nice day." He merely slammed the door with a snort, moved in front of John with a quick kiss to his forehead and gracefully slid right back into his chair. Anyone passing by would never have believed the last five minutes even happened. John re-stacked the books against the wall and grabbed his laptop from the coffee table to quickly begin tapping in the Latin name of the bacteria that was apparently so rare that it did not even show up in any books younger than twenty years.
The next morning brought good news to a set of parents who wept unashamedly at Sherlock's discovery. John stood beside him, beaming and proud, thankful for the stack of old books that lit their way like a candle in the darkness.