The smell of something incredibly aromatic woke Amelie from her deep slumber. Eggs and... "John! What are you cooking?"

"Oh! Good morning Amelie! Eggs, toast, coffee or orange juice, and bacon are on the menu this morning. I tried to get some waffles together, but it seems that Sherlock has put the waffle iron to other experimental uses."

"Do not touch my skin samples, John," came yelled from the bedroom of the one and only consulting detective.

"That's why we aren't having waffles, Sherlock," John parried back.

The door of Sherlock's bedroom swung open and the detective stood dramatically in the doorway. At least, as dramatic as one can get in a robe, pajamas, and bare feet. "Where did you get the bacon," Sherlock inquired.

"I went to the shop ," was all John said.

Amelie jumped into the conversation and asked," When did you go to the shop?"

"About two hours ago. Before you both ask why I went so early, I am going to let you know it is eleven in the morning now, so it was only nine when I left."

Both Amelie and Sherlock cried, "What", in unison.

"I decided to let the bacon wake you up than me trying. You both seemed like you needed the sleep anyways"

Sherlock stood for a moment longer in his doorway processing the information, then went to fling himself into his chair. Amelie began to laugh hysterically, but caught herself as tears formed in her eyes. "How did I end up here?"

"You were being framed for acts of terrorism at the airport, when John and I came to your rescue whilst interrupting our own plans, brought you to this flat, and you slept on my couch."

"I wasn't asking you, Sherlock. Even you should have been able to see the rhetorical form of my question."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Amelie and began to open his mouth in retort when John interrupted it. "You two are not going to have a battle of wits this morning. Instead, you both will be quiet and eat your food."

"Is that the same food that smells like it's burning, doctor?"

John's eyes widened in shock and whipped around to save the breakfast he attempted to make.

"John, don't bother. It has been past saving since I sat in my chair. I'm not hungry anyways."

"Shut up, Sherlock."

"Doctor, I'm not hungry either."

A loud sigh was heard from the kitchen and the sound of a trash bag crinkling accompanied it. John came out of the kitchen and sat in his chair with his head in his hands. "Well, I can't make Sherlock eat, but you, Amelie, are not going to get out of it."

"John, this is ridiculous."

"No, no it's not. There are Lucky Charms in the cupboard nearest the fridge and I bought some milk when I was out as well. Also, the orange juice isn't burned so have a glass of that, too."

"Doctor..." Amelie pinned him down with a glare unmatched by even Sherlock Holmes, but the soldier only pointed at the kitchen and opened up the daily newspaper. "That is completely unfair."

"No it isn't. Go and make yourself a bowl."

"Sherlock! Help me out here."

The detective looked over at Amelie, and then turned to meet John's eyes head on. Another silent conversation passed between them and Sherlock turned his head to Amelie after it appeared they finished.

"Well?"

Sherlock simply shrugged, looked to the kitchen, back at Amelie, and settled further into his chair. The sight would have been comical if Amelie hadn't been so frustrated. Fine. Thank you for the help Sherlock. I will remember this when you come to me for help from Doctor Watson. "I am letting you win, John."

"You'll thank me later," was John's only reply along with the sound of a page turning.

Amelie went out into the kitchen and navigated her way around to the cupboard John said contained the mysterious food named Lucky Charms. The box is colored red and had a rainbow with a creepy leprechaun on it. Fantastic advertising. Here children, eat this cereal while a fictional character stares gaily at you. Just wonderful. Amelie shook her head at the ridiculousness of the breakfast she was about to eat and laid her hand on the refrigerator handle. Finally, I get to see what this machine holds inside. Delicately, she began to open the door when a loud crash from the living room interrupted her process. What in the world was that? Amelie walked out to the living room using the cereal box as a shield. What she saw was absolutely unexpected and expected at the same time. John had Sherlock in a stranglehold and Sherlock was flailing about on his overturned chair.

"Take it back, Sherlock!"

"Ne-ver."

"You do not get to call me a housewife just because I got the milk, which you should have gotten."

The rest of the conversation became static in Amelie's mind as she turned to go complete her breakfast. Instead of taking her time in opening the fridge, Amelie rushed so that she couldn't be interrupted again. What she saw inside was a surprise. No body parts? No molds? Nothing, but regular food? Oh, Doctor Watson, you have been much too kind. Much too kind, indeed. Grabbing the milk and finding the bowls and silverware, Amelie set about making her sugary meal. The decision to eat at the table was quickly tossed out as every square inch of it is covered in chemicals, body parts, and experiments of every variation. A small nook in the kitchen had enough room for Amelie to set her bowl down and eat without disruption. At least, very little disruption as the doctor and detective were still at it in the living room. The cereal was surprisingly okay and the marshmallow mutations tasted better after a long soak in milk. Amelie finished it and quietly rinsed her bowl. Thoughts were howling in her brain about what was to come once she walked back into the living room, but a final thought made its place at the forefront of her mind. Day one of getting my life back together starts now.