John's clean clothes were in a neatly folded stack next to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He opened his laptop and pulled up his favorite Word document. John had started a list a couple months earlier of the numerous behaviors and quirks of the great Sherlock Holmes, and he discovers more every week.
'Where do I put this one on the list? Should it go between hates grapes with a passion and dislikes puppies but loves old dogs ?'
John scrolled through the document a bit more. When he started making the list, he had attempted to rank them by how surprising they were, but its hard to put a ranking to them. John skimmed the lines as he read through, laughing at some of his favorites.
He finally settled on where to wedge it into the list, hit enter, and typed it up.
18. Can't pronounce "penguin"
19. Takes baths (possibly bubble baths, need more data)
20. Claims it was for a case, but he once listened to several hours of Britney Spears and SANG ALONG
John saved the document and shut his laptop with a soft click. 'It's been a good amount of time, I'll just make a cuppa and Sherlock should be done by then.' He grabbed his clothes and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He put on the kettle, considering the different teas in the cabinet.
He pulled down two mugs and grabbed the sugar, even though he doesn't take sugar in his own tea. Making a second tea for Sherlock when he made his own has become an unconscious routine. The infuriating detective rarely touched, let alone finished his tea, but John still makes it for him every time.
He hummed absentmindedly and found a sleeve of chocolate biscuits. The kettle whistled just before John heard the squeal of metal curtain rings dragging over the metal curtain rod in the loo and the shower head turned on. 'Must be rinsing off then.' John let the tea steep and heard Sherlock finish up and go into his room.
John was just stirring sugar into Sherlock's mug when he appeared in the kitchen in his blue dressing gown and pajamas. Sherlock ruffled his damp curls and glanced at John. "Cuppa?" Sherlock stood there a moment blinking hard, before he seemed to register that John was even in the room. "Sherlock, you alright?"
The detective simply blinked again, going to the fridge to pull out the milk. He walked back to John and traded the carton for the mug, holding it up like a child holding out their hand for sweets. John almost laughed at the gesture. 'He won't thank me but he brings me the milk to put in his tea. I really don't understand you Sherlock.'
"Ta, Sherlock." John chuckled and poured the milk generously. Sherlock only had milk in his tea when he was having a rough day.
"Hmm." Sherlock went to sit cross-legged on the couch, already sipping at his mug. John knew the different types of Sherlock's silence by now, and he was worried for the second time today about his flatmate.
John could tell that Sherlock was lost in his head, but it wasn't about a case. At the same time, he wasn't fidgety and anxious, he wasn't bored. It was a melancholic silence and John felt the need to fill it with conversation instead of leaving Sherlock alone.
"Sherlock?" No response. John put the milk away and tried again, louder. "Sherlock? Any cases?"
"Hm."
"Okay... hungry?"
"Hmmmmmm..."
That was Sherlockian for 'Yes, John, I am hungry, but I will not admit I have basic needs of my transport. Please, John, bring me food, I appreciate it, but will not show any outward gratitude or semblance of sentiment.'
John had puttered around the kitchen long enough by now for Sherlock's nearly full mug to grow cold. John walked over to the couch and gently pried it from his hands. He had an idea, his shower could wait.