A/N Yeah, I know, I haven't written in while, what of it? ;) No, I'm sorry, especially as so many of you have kindly added me to your alerts and such- thank you. The only excuse I have is that I have had to do some writing for the drama group I help to run and things were getting confused in my head.

[I posted the wrong version of this first- the differences as very small but it bothered me so..Thanks to everyone who has reviewed etc too.]

John arrived back at Baker Street before Sherlock. They had originally gone to Bart's together, after finishing up a Scotland Yard, with Sherlock stating that he merely wanted to update some results on an experiment with a hand before they went and collected the rest of John possessions- not that there was much left to pick up but he did have to hand keys back and such.

However, John quickly realised that Sherlock in a laboratory was like a child in a sweet shop, albeit a very intense and focused child, and so he decided that instead of rushing the detective, he would just go and sort out his things alone.

And so he found himself laden with a few bags struggling through the door of his new flat.

"Do you need a hand, love?" Mrs Hudson seemed to appear from nowhere and momentary caught John by surprise. Where was she while he was navigating the stairs?

"Er...I...No, no, I'll manage, thanks," John said, sighing with relief when finally got the door to open fully with his shoulder so he could swing the bags inside. He walked over to the nearest clear surface and placed them down.

"Sherlock not about?" Mrs Hudson asked following John into the flat.

"No, he's...working," John stopped and turned to look at his new landlady, "Did you want him? I can pass on a-"

"No, no, it's alright," the landlady shook her head. "You look tired. How about I pop the kettle on?" She disappeared around the corner into the kitchen before waiting for an answer.

"Er, yeah, that would be nice, thanks," John said, suddenly feeling tired despite his restful night's sleep, "then I'll get started on straightening things up, I think."

John cast a glance around the living area and scratched the back of his head. Truth be told, he had no idea where to start. Most of the possessions in the living room were currently Sherlock's so by rights he shouldn't really touch them at all but something told John that if he didn't move them, they'd be living in this mess for a considerable amount of time. It helped that the majority of items were in boxes because he needn't empty those, he could just stack them a little more neatly. Although, there were a fair few miscellaneous things lying around that John wasn't sure he wanted to go near let alone touch.

"Do you take sugar?" Mrs Hudson shouted from the kitchen.

"No, thanks," John replied.

"You should let Sherlock clear this mess, Doctor Watson," Mrs Hudson appeared around the corner, holding out a cup for John.

"Call me John, please," John said kindly, taking the cup, "thanks."

"I mean it. He has to learn," Mrs Hudson stated.

John let out a small laugh, "What am I letting myself in for Mrs Hudson?"

Mrs Hudson smiled and took a sip of tea. "Oh, he's an odd one," she sighed fondly. John cast her a sideways glance and smiled. He thought back to his discussion with Lestrade and maybe, yes, Sherlock didn't have friends but he certainly had people who cared for him.

The door banged open downstairs. "Speak of the devil," Mrs Hudson said. "I'll pour out another cup of tea."

It was a few moments before Sherlock appeared through the door. He didn't speak but gave John a sort of nod before taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of the door.

"Here you are, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson said, holding a cup of tea out in front of him, "Just this once mind. Not your housekeeper."

"I don't mind, you know," Sherlock said taking the cup from Mrs Hudson but clearly talking to John.

"Huh? What?" John said confused.

"You can move my things. Just be careful," Sherlock stated.

John looked at the detective feeling like his mind had been read. He wasn't as disconcerted as he thought he should have been though.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson gave him a light slap on the arm, "You can move your own things. Honestly. Now, I best get off." She moved to the door. "You boys need to go shopping- unless you're planning on eating those eyeballs?" she said giving Sherlock a pointed look before making her descent down the stairs.

John watched as Sherlock stepped over to the desk in order to turn his laptop on.

"So..." John began.

"I said; you can move things if you want," Sherlock repeated.

"Er...yeah, alright, except it's your stuff and well..." John bent down to pick something up, "I mean, what is this?"

"That's a shoe."

"A shoe? Sherlock, this is not a..." John took a closer look at the item in his hand and although it was mutilated, he began to see that it had indeed started life as a shoe, "What did you do to it?"

"I was testing the effects of acids on the leather."

"Right. Of course you were." John shook his head. His brain suddenly decided that he had to get out of the flat for a while in order to remain sane; "You know what? I think, I'll go and take care of the food situation," he said dropping the 'shoe' down to the floor.

"I need nicotine patches. And batteries. Of all sizes. My card is in my wallet." Sherlock didn't even bother to look up from his computer screen. John found himself staring at him. "What?" Sherlock asked, feeling the stare and glancing at the doctor. When John didn't respond he continued, "Oh, my pin-number is 4322."

"Sherlock, you..."

"I hardly think you are going to steal from me, John," Sherlock drawled with a smirk.

John sighed, "That's not...I wasn't...you...you know what, never mind. Where's your wallet?"

"Coat pocket."

John moved to retrieve the wallet and leave the flat. He turned in the doorway, "Tidy the flat, Sherlock."

"4322, John"

John rolled his eyes and closed the door.

...