My flatmate at 221 b Baker Street
"Can you please turn that off?" Sherlock Holmes demanded in an annoyed voice. "That erratic sound is not matching my trails of thought! Oh god, why is just a little peace and quiet too much to ask for?!" He continued his voice souring as he kept on talking.
"My thoughts exactly whenever you play that violin of yours." replied John Watson from the sofa in the small messy flat on 221 b Baker Street.
"But what are you even watching?!" he said gesturing questioningly at the telly. "Is that agent even supposed to solve the case? He obviously has no skills in deduction whatsoever!"
"But Sherlock, it's a movie" replied John.
"So that's an excuse you people make for poorly written manuscripts? Just admit the flick is a disaster. Why try imitating reality when you're just making it all up from the beginning anyway?
John raised his eyebrows. "Well, that is a good point you have there, but it's a way of letting go of reality I suppose, and still be able to recognise yourself in it."
"Boring!" Sherlock exclaimed but crashed down on the sofa facing the TV, demonstrating that he was now giving up on people and all that cheap culture fuss.
"Can you please move your legs?" asked John in a patient voice.
"Nope." was all he got as a reply from the other man lying on the sofa.
"My legs are not going to get any blood if you continue laying yours over me like that.
"You can move over to the armchair if you want to." was all Sherlock replied.
John could feel the irritation rising inside of him. His flatmate was a genius and mentally a five-year old… though John wasn't really any better himself. Sherlock had just declared war, a war over the sofa. But John Watson was not just any man – he was a soldier and convinced he would win this battle.
The London sun had set completely by the time the movie ended. The two grown-up men in the Baker Street flat were now lying in each end of the sofa with their legs all tangled up in each other's. Since no one had been able to win the fight they had both silently agreed on making it as comfortable as possible for the both of them. Suddenly a laugh escaped John's mouth.
"What? What is it?" Sherlock asked with a confused expression over his face.
"No it's just – that commercial was quite funny." John replied still chuckling a bit at the telly.
"I don't get it, what's so funny?" Sherlock said, eyeing John with those eyebrows of his tightly knitted together.
John turned his gaze towards his flatmate and could not help it – he didn't even see his own reaction coming. He though Sherlock was cute. Yes, cute. That lost look he gave John from the other side of the sofa triggered a smile to form on John's lips. It was that part of Sherlock only John got to witness in person. Sherlock indeed was a genius, but those childish and human parts of Sherlock, was aside of the adventures, John's own little privilege of being friends with such a difficult man.
Author's note: Drabble, drabble, drabble. The idea is as simple as the title, but let me translate- adorable observations of my flatmate and soulmate whom I love with my whole heart. I'll publish this as an ongoing story but every chapter will hold it's very own meaningless plot. As soon as we get more Sherlock episodes the amount of chapters will most likely increase (but hey, isn't that the time of the year we need it the most?). (Also I kind of hope to keep it fairly innocent but I know myslef... I just want them to start kissing and being cute dorks already)