The loud blaring ring tone from Sherlock's mobile-phone rang out suddenly, startling John from an accidental nap, which had occurred while he was writing another post on his Blog.

He grumbled and wiped away the small puddle of drool that had spread across a pile of important looking papers on the table.

Sherlock's phone was shoved unceremoniously between two cushions that were stuffed haphazardly inside a washing basket.

Josh sighed, debating whether to answer the phone, leave it, or go give it to Sherlock, who was most likely doing something weird in his room.

The last time that John went into Sherlock's room, he had found him dissecting a human foot.

Of course he had only caught a glimpse before Sherlock had kicked the door closed.

John pulled the phone out from between the cushions, and took it to Sherlock's room.

He knocked on the door, and unsurprisingly there was no reply.

He slowly pushed the door open, praying that that nothing gruesome was lying in wait on the other side.

The curtains were closed, and the room smelled faintly of Chlorine and Peaches.

Sherlock was lying upside-down on his bed, his head dangling off the edge and his eyes closed.

"Go away," He snapped. "I'm thinking."

John wordlessly threw the phone at Sherlock; he caught it without even opening his eyes, and pressed the answer button.

"Yes?" He said, sitting up.

There was a small unintelligible noise from the little silver phone, Sherlock 'mmm'd and then hung up.

"Telemarketing I suppose?" John said.

"Nope, a dead body. Get dressed we're going to the Morgue"

Sherlock stood up, and then unceremoniously shut the door in John's face.