I am so so so sorry that I haven't updated in a long (+long for emphasis) time. Revision and exams have caught up with here you go :) Sorry if it's boring, but don't forget to R&R.
It's been a week at Baker Street where they haven't had a case. When they did receive a case, Sherlock would decline. That is one of the things that Elizabeth learned at her stay; he hated minor cases, the ones that took up seconds of his time. Elizabeth had to agree with this; Scotland Yard can't always rely on Sherlock, it's their job. For most of the time, it was just her and Sherlock while John was at work. They had both driven into a circling routine. For Elizabeth, it was: Wake up, go back to bed, wake up, get food, go back to bed, wake up, go shopping, read book and go back to bed. She was really happy that she was organising her life, she just wished she organised it more efficiently. Sherlock, on the other hand, was not happy. His routine was: Get bored, get really bored, shoot wall, shoot wall again, find cigarettes, fail at finding cigarettes, deduce Mrs Hudson, cut up corpse, deduce characters from Eastenders, burn things, experiment and experiment again. Elizabeth figured out that she had not seen or heard Sherlock sleep in the past week, the lack of sleep can drive someone mad. Maybe she should try and get him to sleep, it would be much quieter. No, she couldn't; she wouldn't.
"Sherlock, it's freezing. You should wear a coat," said Elizabeth as she handed him his black, heavy coat, "You'll catch a cold!"
"It's not freezing," was all he said.
"Famous last words, Sherlock!" she said as she set it on the neigbouring counter, "If you get ill, you can't go to crime scenes and if you can't go to crime scenes th-"
Sherlock didn't need telling twice, even if it would shut her up. He reached to the far left to pick up his coat to wear and returned back to his work. Then it was plan two; Elizabeth walked to the radiators and turned it up at the highest level. Since it was in the middle of August, it should make things easier. She turned to see if Sherlock saw her; he didn't. Now it was step 3; she closed all of the open windows and doors and covered them with curtains. Elizabeth walked to the sofa and sat down and just stared at Sherlock and waited for the magic to happen.
After a couple of minutes, she noticed that Sherlock's eyelids began to drop as his eyeballs rolled to the back of his head; but he didn't stop conducting his experiment. He seemed very dedicated to his things. He tried to reach for a pen that was on the other side of the counter, but gave up after a minute. Without any warning, he dropped his head onto the counter. When Elizabeth could hear snores, she got up off the seat and walked over to the kitchen to study what she could see in front of her.
He seemed to be asleep, but she couldn't be sure. She grabbed Sherlock's wrists, lifted them up and dropped them back onto the surface. She decided that he was asleep and decided what to do now. She looked over to the couch again and decided that Sherlock was probably out cold. She walked up behind Sherlock in his chair and hooked her arms under his. Gently, without waking him up, she lifted her arms and slowly moved towards the sofa; bringing Sherlock with her. He murmured something in his sleep that she decided to ignore. Even though he was in his 30's, she could still drag him without any fuss. The only problem was since the room was so warm, she got more and more weaker; which made her slower.
After a couple of minutes, she reached the sofa and chucked Sherlock onto it; still without waking him up. It was funny how he was a heavy sleeper, but rarely slept at all. She was about to open the window to let the breeze in, but she thought this might wake him up, so she didn't risk it. She plopped herself down on the floor in front of where Sherlock lay and stared at the wall opposite her. She realised that she spent 5 minutes looking at the wall, completely unaware of her surroundings. Her head started to fall towards her back as her eyes would shut close. She didn't want to go to sleep, there were things to be done. She couldn't think of anything at the moment, but there was something; probably not important.
John decided to walk home today since it was weather you shouldn't take advantage of. Everyone on the streets seemed so happy; everyone was in their own little bubble. He looked at the road across from him and saw that the supermarket was still open. He wondered if Elizabeth remembered to get the things on the shopping list. She probably did, like she said: She had a routine.
When he reached 221B Baker Street, he noticed that all the curtains and the windows were shut. Not thinking much of it, he opened the door and started to walk up the stairs. He couldn't hear anything, but that was until he got to the living room door. At first he hesitated, but soon enough, he opened the door and peaked inside. All the lights were turned off and the only light that could be seen was from the cracks in between the curtains. He was about to check the other rooms until he heard noises coming from the sofa. It took him a while to noticed, but eventually he understood.
Sherlock was asleep. Actually asleep. It was a miracle, something that would happen on a full moon. He was in his black coat with his whole body facing the fireplace. He walked over to the windows to open the curtains but tripped over an object on the floor. he looked down and saw Elizabeth who was half sleeping, half waking. She slowly raised her head up towards John and squinted her eyes towards him.
"John," she said, still dazed from sleeping, "Whatever you do, don't open them curtains,"