Typical John thought as he entered the room. Well what else would he expect from a man who solves murders and cold cases to deter his boredom. The man practically breathed investigations, it was almost his way of being able to put up with the world at times.
John strode over to extract the object he'd found implanted into the living room table. A jackknife. Of course. What else should John have expected. He laid it aside and commenced in making himself coffee when he heard the flat door close and footsteps advancing up the stairs.
He's back. "Like any coffee?" John asked loud enough as he poured some for himself from the pot.
"Tea if I may," said the detective finally at the top of the steps.
"Of course you want tea right after I made a pot of-" John watched the detective stride over to the couch where he propped his feet upon the coffee table, "What in Lords name are you wearing Sherlock!?"
"Disguise," Sherlock answered casually picking up the fiddle that lay aside the couch and scraping at it's strings.
From head to toe the detective looked as if he wore an eighteen hundreds women's outfit. His eyes were highlighted with eye shadow and his lips covered in red. He dressed in a black blue gown and wore a sun hat upon his head. Despite the clothes nothing about this look was feminine.
"Well at least explain your reasoning, have you gone mad!?" the man at the counter exclaimed
"Quite the contrary actually," Sherlock said still scraping the fiddle, "hm, my reasoning you question?"
"Uh- yes, carry on!" John didn't think he even wanted to know though.
Instead Sherlock just slouched silently in the chair scraping his fiddle and staring off into the distance. John was used to this behavior-the behavior that is him ignoring John-yet again.
"Waiting," Sherlock answered after a great amount time. He glanced at his watch disappointed. "Waiting?" John looked at the detective confused.
"I'm waiting, what else would I be doing. Was it not obvious?"
"The silence doesn't really confirm anything Sherlock," John said glancing at his inexpressive friend.
The detective signaled his eyes over the split wood in the table that had been left by his jackknife. Of course! John rolled his eyes. What else? He took a quick breathe.
"Sherlock you're not keeping that blasted thing in the table, you've ruined enough furniture as it is!"
"John!"
"Sherlock, no!"
"John, it's insufficient otherwise!"
"Fine, take the bloody knife!" John pulled out the drawer and slammed it on the counter.
Sherlock retrieved it from the counter and implanted it into the table where he insisted it belonged then toured over to his room to change his clothing.
"Helps me think," he said before shutting the door.
A few minutes later John had retreated to the table in which he kept his laptop on and checked all his networking. A knock came upon the door summoning John to get it since Sherlock was probably still trying to get out of that disguise of his. Not that Sherlock would answer the door anyways.
"Lestrade?" John said looking at the DI, he looked exhausted, "Would you like to come in? You look like you just chased a criminal across all of London."
"Well you wouldn't be too far off, except our 'criminal' is a sociopath dressed as a women," He informed as he stepped into the flat, "Figured he might be here."
"Well you'd be right, he's upstairs finally changing out of the darned thing," He led Lestrade up the stairs, "Coffee perhaps?"
"Please," Lestrade thanked finally reaching the top of the stairs and noticing there new mantel piece, "What might…"
"Don't ask, I don't even know. Definitely not the first time he's done it though."
Lestrade took a seat as John poured some coffee for the DI. It was a few or so minutes before Sherlock emerged from his room in more civilized clothes.
"Ah, Lestrade, finally found me I see," Sherlock teased as he motioned over to the window and picked up his violin.
"Oh don't give me that Holmes. I need you to tell me the outcome of your little scheme you pulled today-" Lestrade looked over at the detective, "Can you even hear me?"
The detective finished tightening a string on the violin and replied with, "I can hear you Lestrade, just doesn't mean I'm listening."
The DI sighed. This was much harder than it needed to be, but there wasn't much else to expect when it came to Sherlock Holmes.
"But you would like to know still, yes?" He plucked some strings on the violin carefully and turned around smiling, "The situation was much more intriguing than I thought, shall I get into detail?"