Really short, but that's how a lot of them came out.
I really love this fic. You guys have no idea. My sister and I thought it was hilarious, how no one else had any clue whatsoever what John's going on about. Except John (maybe).
God bless and have a great day (or night)!
ThePro-LifeCatholic
Disclaimer: Didn't we clear this up in the last chapter?
The morning after this strange conversation…
John Watson arrived at the flat early the next morning (but not too early, since Sherlock wasn't a morning person). He was excited to pick up where the case had left off the previous evening. Knowing Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective had probably stayed awake most of the night, organizing and re-organizing facts in his Mind Palace until he had been satisfied with the arrangement. No doubt Sherlock was already up and dressed, waiting for his former flat mate to turn up. Then off to the crime scene they'd go.
"Morning, John." Sherlock's deep voice sliced through the moment of silence. Just as Watson had thought, Sherlock was dressed and ready. Black, curly hair was ruffled, his coat collar turned up around the pale face. Sherlock was tying his signature blue scarf around his neck.
"How are you feeling this morning?" That was what normal people said to each other in the early hours of the day, wasn't it? Sherlock (unfortunately, but rather obviously) had trouble when it came to cultural and social norms. Usually, he didn't even try. However, he figured there was no harm in attempting friendliness every once in a while.
The army doctor, instead of replying immediately, slowly made his way over to the window. He stared out into the street, watching pedestrians pass by below. He turned, looking right into Sherlock's eyes.
"I've been feeling sort of…thin, lately. Sort of stretched." John responded vaguely, his voice sounding far-off. "Like…butter, scraped over too much bread." He fell silent, focusing on some object just beyond Sherlock's head.
The consulting detective knotted his scarf. Without another word he moved to the door of the flat and stalked out. Whatever John's problem was, he could handle it himself.
There's more where this came from. Just hold on a couple minutes.
