"Seb did you HAVE to drug him?"

"Boss? That where your orders if anyone broke in to the car."

"Did you NOT see I was JUST talking to him."

"No."

Jim sighed and looked down at the unconscious doctor, his wet blonde hair had splayed haphazardly on the black leather seat. The strands of hair spiked up slightly framing his face.

Awww look at that the little pet looks like a hedge hog. At least now he will defiantly get some sleep- he probably will even think he was dreaming. That's probably better, he must of just been half asleep already.

Shock. That's why he was acting so weird.

"Ok," Moriarty locked his eyes on the blonde strands, "Right."

"Boss?"

The criminal lazily ran his hands through John's hair.

"Mmm?"

"Sir..."
Jim didn't reply.

"BOSS!"

Again no reply.

Sighing Moran pulled a gun out of his pocket and half-hearted aimed it at their unconscious prisoner.

"WHAT?" Moriarty huffed knocking down Seb's gun.

"You alright?"

"YEESS, just trying to fix YOUR problem."

The sniper rolled his eyes.

"So what we gonna do?"

No response, turning slightly Seb confirmed that his bosses eyes, and hands, where back onto John's hair.

"Jim?"

Moriarty turned practically hissing. "WHAT?"

"Your plan is...?"
"Sebby, I will fire you, then skin your ass if you don't start treating me with respect."
Moran grimaced, "Its been a long night, sir."

"Indeed it has, but what do you expect? A present?"

Jim froze his eyes visibly brightening.


"Sir..." Sebastian looked over and sighed.

The door bell rang, Sherlock jumped of his chair 5 hours that was a long time even for John.

Halfway to the door his phone binged.

I hope you like my present- but pets aren't just for Christmas. Or mid April either.

The consulting detective frowned, opened the door and jumped backwards, squealing slightly.

Jim was now, really, really, glad that he had also put sound equipment in 221 b. Sherlock stared in disbelief at the thing falling towards him. It was John, wrapped neck to toe in garish neon pink and neon orange stripped wrapping paper, and a green bow loosely tied around his neck. As he noticed what had happened to John's hair there was a clunk. The younger Holmes brother had evidently fainted.

When John woke up, it seemed like he had had a pretty good night, no nightmares no interruptions. He stretched out of the fetal position that the doctor had apparently curled into whilst asleep.

He had that feeling that nothing could go wrong, that he had slept soundly and woken naturally. With out a care in the world he sat up, scratching his scalp he paused then pulled a tendril of hair down to eye-level. Trying not to yell in shock, John realised that something might of happened last night. His hair was in curls. He had dated a hairdresser once and noted the professional style it was done in. So Sherlock was out of the picture. Luckily for him it wasn't an actual perm, just a temporary one. John cautiously ran his hand through his curled hair, it was unnaturally soft.

Well ok this isn't weird in the slightest.

John swept back his hair again, It actually feels quite nice.

Watson stretched again. Something tore.

Um.

He looked down,

Ok. so. Some one, er, someone has. What the hell. Righhhhht. I have a bow around my neck, that's normal. I am wearing. Err, um something.

John rolled off of his bed and army crawled to the closet mirror. Pushing him self to his feet, rocking backwards as his blue eyes took in the crazy image.

Wrapping paper, I am wearing WRAPPING PAPER? Definitely not my normal morning ware, might be able to work with it though.

The suggestive posse he pulled next made Jim moan with want, zooming in on the footage the criminal was disappointed to find that John had resumed his common sense.

Jeez am I really this weird in the morning?

He looked up and down his reflection

That took some skill. The wrapping is really well done, and they even where thoughtful enough to tie it so I can move my arms.

John sighed.

What to do, well I definitely need to find out why I look like an oversized birthday present. But to do that I need sleep.

In an impressive movement, John wriggled towards the bed, flipped over on to it, spun around pulling the covers back over him, and fell to sleep.

In the morning, he awoke with shredded paper all over him.

What a crazy night.

John sat up the confetti falling from him, and happily discovered that he hadn't been wrapped up naked . Seeing that he was wearing his favourite red pants John theorized that had probably been abducted and dressed, for no apparent reason, either last week, Hopefully not, or at some point in the night. He wasn't sure WHY or if someone was keeping to his underwear timeline, but he hoped they where.

The baffled man threw on a shirt, ran his hands through his curly hair again, dragged on a jumper, checked a watch on his table confirming it was Monday, and stepped into his jeans. I'm gonna get some brain food.

Halfway through a jam sandwich John froze, voices echoed around his head.

"You, really, would prefer to die?"

"YES."

"Why?"

"Why would you save me?"

I am awake right?

He glared at the sandwich accusingly, quick working brain food then?

"WHAT GIVES YOU THE IDEA THAT YOU CAN TALK TO ME LIKE THAT?"

The chair scrapped against the floor as the ex army doctor threw the sandwich on the table and tried to get as far away as he could from it, then common sense hit him. Sandwiches cant talk.

"Erm, Johnny dear, are you ok?"

Johnny dear, even he had just realised that it was a poor inanimate object, eyed the sandwich as if he was looking for a wire, a microphone, a mouth?

Admitting defeat didn't come naturally to him, but even he had to see the floor in the theory and so sat back down head in hands. Moodily watching the sandwich just in case.

"Go home, Watson, go home. And try not to throw your self under a bus, I would really hate to kiss you again."

"I wouldn't mind..."

All thoughts of the talking sandwich averted John instead focused on the more troubling thought of where this conversation was going. Especially troubling because he had just identified the voices.

Oh crap. OH CRAP! OH buggering... yeah this is getting a bit repetitive. Well that explains the brown eyes, I think, hang on I think I thought that before. Hmm. What should I do now...

"This is why I couldn't let you throw your life, your either the most interesting man I have ever met or the most stupid, but both are an impressive title, I couldn't let you just end it, could I?"

Well I could always ask him.