Watson ran down the stairs toward the kitchen. She quickly searched through all of the cupboards for anything to eat breakfast with. They had just finished working a case so she wasn't hopeful that she would find anything. To tell the truth, she was never hopeful that she would find any clean dishes or cutlery in the whole brownstone, let alone the kitchen.
"Sherlock!" she called. "How many times have I told you, you need to clean up this mess?"
She frowned when the usual retort didn't come. Her frown deepened as she saw what time it was. Sherlock was usually up and about at this point in the day. She briskly walked over to Sherlock's room to see if he was asleep. She didn't expect to find him there considering he rarely ever slept and when he did, it was wherever he happened to be and it usually wasn't his bedroom. She was proven correct as she looked at Sherlock's empty bed. Closing the door firmly behind her, she walked toward the front room, praying that he hadn't tried any weird experiments on his sleeping pattern by hanging himself by his wrists from the bookshelf again.
She stopped when she saw Sherlock. She smiled down at the scene before her. Sherlock laid sprawled on his back on the floor. His chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly. He looked almost peaceful.
Suddenly, or as suddenly as a turtle could move, Watson saw Clyde climbing onto Sherlock's chest. She watched as Clyde slowly made his way to the center of Sherlock's chest, then curled up as best as a turtle could and fell asleep.
Watson smiled and watched Sherlock and Clyde for a few minutes before turning around and going back into the kitchen to clean up.