4. More Boredom.

This is what happens when Sherlock Holmes falls into another one of his bouts of boredom.

John Watson pulled herself out of bed. Her short hair was sticking up in every which way, and no matter how much product she used, it would not lay down flat. Today was not going to be good. A high pitch squeal met her ears. Yup. Bored Sherlock+Bad Hair=Great Day. She pulled a weird jumper from her closet and threw it on over her tank top. She wasn't going anywhere today. It was a no bra day. Sherlock would notice, but Sherlock noticed everything.

Everything.

John walked down her chairs and shoved some dishes off part of the table so she could have somewhere to eat. Sherlock came in wearing nothing but a sheet. She knew that he was wearing nothing from a previous experience. Sherlock was even more upset the recent days, ever since The Woman left. He never admitted it, never would, but John knew that Sherlock was a wreck without her. It kind of hurt for John to know that she meant so much to him, and they barely knew each other, but John also liked knowing that Sherlock was human. She forgot that every now and then.

With a bowl of cereal, John sat down and began to eat. The cereal was stale, and the milk was close to expiring, but she didn't care. Sherlock sat down across from her.

Munch, munch. John continued chewing her food.

"John."

"Mmm?"

"Have you had sex in the past month?" Sherlock asked.

John spit out her cereal. The chewed up flakes and milk went everywhere.

"Why the HELL would you ask that?"

"Hmmm." was all Sherlock said. "Have you been feeling stressed?" John sighed and decided to go along with Sherlock's question game. She knew it was just easier that way.

"With you? Always."

"Have you been taking any form of birth control?"

"No."

"Any eating disorder that I do not know of?"

"I'm anorexic." John said, shoveling more cereal into her mouth. Sherlock gaped. "Joke."

"Any illegal substances?"

"Heroin addict."

"That is not a funny joke, John."

"What is this all about?" John finally asked. A migraine was forming right behind her eyes. Ugh. Today was not her day.

"I'm worried about you." Sherlock said. Worried? Well, that was a first.

"Why are you worried about me?"

"You're period is late by two days."

John was glad she had swallowed before she spoke. He even knew her cycle!

"Sherlock," John sighed. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a doctor, Sherlock. I'm fine."

"So, you aren't pregnant?"

"No."

"Good." Sherlock said. "Good."

"Break your violin strings?" John asked after a minute of dead silence.

"Yes. I need you to go to the store."

"Go for yourself!"

"We also need groceries. The milk is rancid."

"Go get them for yourself!"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I'm doing an experiment." Sherlock said. John rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"NO."

"What?"

"No experiments. No shooting the walls. You are coming shopping with me."

"But, John!" Sherlock whined. God, he was such a prat at times!

"No buts! Now, get dressed." John ordered. Sherlock sat there, unamused, and crossed his arms.

"No." That stubborn bastard. John smiled. She could be stubborn too.

"Fine. Go in your sheet."

"People might talk." Sherlock said. He knew that John hated all the insinuations going around about them. Walking out with him barely clothed and her disheveled would not be the strangest thing they've done. John shrugged her shoulders.

"People do little else."

At least they were no longer talking about her late period.