Sherlock let out an aggravated groan as he wrapped himself in his blue, satin robe and threw himself on the couch. He didn't even bother to notice the papers his dressing gown had sent flying all over the flat's carpet. John sighed and pushed himself out of his chair to go pick up the files. He and John were working on a difficult murder case Lestrade had introduced to them just this morning and it wasn't going as planned. It appeared to be a random murder, but Sherlock clearly wasn't having it. The scene was cleaned spotless but nothing was taken from the body. He'd gone through all the evidence and visited the crime scene barely anything would come to him. Maybe it was the fact that Sherlock hadn't eat anything since yesterday morning. John stared at Sherlock's uneaten sweet and sour chicken on the counter, it was still warm but it remained untouched. John stood up and made his way to the plate. He dropped it on the table in front of Sherlock, "Eat."

Sherlock kept his eyes on the ceiling, "I see no point in doing that. Eating takeout won't help solve this case. "

God, how this case was driving Sherlock up the wall. What's wrong with me? Sherlock wondered. Only on rare occasions did Sherlock Holmes have difficulties on a case. Nothing in particular was different about this case. If you'd ask him, Sherlock would be able to tell you couple's life story, from the wedding date to the color of the bridesmaids dresses. He knows it wasn't a robbery but rather a personal murder. Sherlock knew but he couldn't quite pinpoint exactly how it was carried out.

There really was no point to keeping trying; Sherlock wouldn't eat unless John decided to shove the plate down his throat. All he cared about at the moment was the case, which was typical for Sherlock, not sleeping or talking for days, but this case was affecting him in a way that worried John. He glanced over at Sherlock, he looked incredibly worn out. John could tell he was frustrated, he had bags under his eyes and his body looked worn out and tensed. It looked like he needed some time away from this case, maybe a nap or something. Sherlock wasn't the only one who needed a break. John had sat there for hours on end watching Sherlock pace around the flat, muttering things to himself as he tried to solve the case. Being stuffed inside that flat all day was beginning to drive them both insane.

"You need a break, maybe we should go out."

"Maybe we shouldn't," Sherlock snapped back.

John rolled his eyes, "Oh come on, Sherlock! We've been in this flat for over seven hours. If you're not going to eat, at least get some fresh air."

Sherlock shot John a curious glance from the couch. Sherlock considered this idea; this case was driving him mad. Sherlock was having some sort of consulting detective's block, maybe some fresh air and an outing with John would help him get out of this rut. He found that taking strolls out with John tended to soothe his mind and even allowed him to channel his full attention on a case afterwards. He understood John's need to get out of the house since he's been trapped inside with Sherlock, for the whole day, working on the case. To be honest, Sherlock had felt the same way as John. As much as he wanted to solve this case, his brain needed a break more than ever.

With one swift movement he pushed himself up to a sitting position and brought his steepled hands down to his knees, "What did you have in mind? And don't waste my time, John."

John was taken back at first; he didn't expect Sherlock to be willing without a little convincing. They rarely went out since fun wasn't really Sherlock's division.

"We could go to the cinema. There's this one movie that looks quite inter-"

"Dull," Sherlock sighed.

John leaned forward, "There's a new pub down the street that we coul-"

"Boring, John!"

John took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Fine Sherlock, you stay home and I'll go out. Try not to blow up anything while I'm gone."

He headed towards the door and grabbed his coat off of the hook. John glanced back at Sherlock to see him lying back on the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling once more. Just the mere sight of Sherlock looking remotely uninteresting, as if their conversation had never happened made John's blood boil. John scoffed as he shut the door behind him with a click.

Sorry it's a bit short for chapter one but for the others, I plan to write more.
Hope you like it!
(reviews are appreciated)
xx