John unlocked the door to the flat and walked in.

It was strangely silent, and that was concerning when you lived with the consulting 5 year old (As John liked to call him.)

"Sherlock?"

"In here, John."

"Are you injured?" John took a step closer,

"No."

"Are you tied up?" John took another step.

"No."

"Is someone pointing a gun at your head?"

"No, John."

"Then why is it quiet?"

"Just because it's quite doesn't mean something is wrong, John." Sherlock said.

John walked into the kitchen.

"Actually it usually does- what are you doing?"

"I'm finger painting, John. What does it look like?"

"Why are you finger painting?" John asked.

"Because it's fun."

"Because it's fun..." John repeated.

"Yes, John." Sherlock pushed the chair out beside him with his foot. "Paint with me."

"Um... okay?"

"Go get a palette." Sherlock held his own up.

"You're holding a paper plate, Sherlock."

"Yes, John now go get your paper palette."


A/N: Alright, that was WAY OOC, but it was still hilarious.