Nope. You're not gonna know what happened in Avalon. Not. Just. Yet. Sorry for not updating, life gets in the way. I was at UnicornMustache's house all weekend and she was at mine (she's my bestest best friend. Like sisters. IDK if she would say the same… but anyway we grew up together). We wrote a fanfiction and it's called "DRUM ROLL PLEASE!" Does John Die in the End? I wrote the beginning parts and fixed some grammar and crap. It's total crack if you're into that sort of thing. *SPOILERS* John doesn't die.

.de/ is a German fanfiction sight. If you use chrome, just let it translate everything and them you can read German fanfiction. Just thought I'd let you know.

I just realized that this story is rated T, should I add more swearing and/or intense moments and gore? IDEK if I can write gore… ANYWAY! Here's chapter 11

Standard Disclaimerlin

Chapter 11

"Here you go John," Sherlock handed a plate of… food? To John who was sitting in his arm chair.

"What the hell is this," John blatantly said.

"It's eggs,"

"No Sherlock. This is not eggs this is… goop. How did you even get them to be grey in colour?"

Sherlock looked down at the pitiful excuse for breakfast. "I think I did an okay job,"

"This is just like that time you made me coffee,"

"I'm trying!"

"To what? Kill me?! I'm not even sure they're cooked all the way. This is unfit for consumption," He stood up and brushed Sherlock out of his way.

"But John-"

"I'm not eating this," He headed for the kitchen, "You'd think you could cook. I mean you do all of those experiments with chemicals, cooking is just like that but you won't die from it. Although, I'm pretty sure I'll die from this,"

"What if I told you I made them with love?" Sherlock tried.

"No. Wait what?" John half- turned on his heel.

"It's one of those figures of speech that you're always using," Sherlock said when he flopped on the couch. He seemed to do that a lot.

John turned away disappointed. He hid his emotion and said, "Oh,"

"Is that disappointment I hear?"

Apparently John did a bad job, "Of course not!"

Thankfully Sherlock didn't wasn't in a deducing mood and he let the subject drop. John breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I really did try though," Sherlock told him earnestly.

"Sure you did," John said sarcastically.

"Well not everyone can cook good meals like you John," Sherlock retorted, just as sarcastic.

"The one time I messed up the pasta! Sorry it wasn't al dente! Sure it was mushy but it wasn't that bad,"

"It was awful, I don't know why we didn't just go to Angelo's," Sherlock complained.

"Why don't I want to go to Angelo's? You really have to ask that?"

"What? He gives us cheap food!" Sherlock said perplexed.

"Every time we go he thinks we're on a date!"

"So? Let people think what they want. I honestly don't care what they say. We basically are except we don't do couple-y things like kissing and showing affection," Sherlock scrunched his nose at the thought of PDA. It always annoyed him when people would kiss in public. He didn't understand why people would WANT to.

"It's because I'm NOT GAY!" he yelled, "Not that people seem to care," John added.

"Whatever. If you didn't want to eat my cooking then you shouldn't have asked for it,"

"Look Sherlock, I'm not going to continue this argument about eggs! Alright?"

"FINE!" Sherlock agreed.

"I'm going to make some toast do you want some?"

"Do I want toast? Do I- No John I don't want your bloody toast,"

"I was being nice!" John exclaimed, "Besides you need to eat something!"

"Ohhhhh, so you can make me food and I have to eat it, but when I make you food you can turn it down,"

"I'm not the one whose boarder line anorexic!" John said defensive.

"I am NOT anorexic!"

"You skip meals, and refuse to eat when I tell you," John put the eggs down on the counter It's clean he noticed. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Food is just fuel. Why do you care so much anyway?"

"This is me, being a doctor. I can't stand by and watch someone waste away. If you didn't want someone who cared about your health, why did you even choose a doctor to be your flat mate? And I also care because, regrettably, you're my best friend."

Sherlock was quiet for a second. "You regret being my friend?" he whispered.

John completely forgot about his agenda of getting rid of the horrendous eggs during their spat. He made his way to the couch. He kneeled down so he could look Sherlock in his teal eyes. He put a hand on his cheek.

"No Sherlock, I didn't mean it like that. I will never regret being your friend. You bring colour to my bland boring life. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. If I didn't have you, I would be shooting holes in the wall," He joked.

Sherlock gave him a small smile. "Could I reconsider your offer of toast?"

"Of course,"

"I'll have one slice then,"

"No you will not, you will have two,"

"Oh for god's sake John why does it matter?"

"If you're going to eat breakfast, you're going to eat breakfast. None of this 'one bite' type things that you always pull,"

"Hmmp,"

"No Sherlock, no whining, sighing, or denying. You're getting some food in your stomach whether you like it or not. I've decided. So there," he blew a raspberry. If Sherlock wanted to act like a child, well John sure as hell could too. He popped in four pieces into to toaster and timed it for one minute and forty seconds. That should make them slightly toasty. "Now, what do you want on your toast?"

"Some of the strawberry jam you always use,"

"How do you even know if you'll like it. You're such a picky eater,"

"I have to eat too you know. I don't go days on end without ANYTHING, John. I steal little bites of your food when you're not looking," John gave Sherlock 'the look' from the kitchen, "A Bit Not Good then John?"

"No, not good at all," John walked back to the living room and threw his Union Jack pillow at Sherlock, "Not good at all,"

It hit Sherlock straight in the face thanks to John's perfect aim. "Ouch! John!"

"Shut up Sherlock," The toaster dinged, "Now are you going to come and get your food or do I have to bring it to you?"

Sherlock huffed and reluctantly got up from the couch. "Did you even notice the newspaper animals Merlin made?"

"The what?"

Sherlock leaned down and captured the tiger in his hand on his way to the kitchen. He shoved the animal into John's face, startling him from his position of leaning on the counter. "What the hell Sherlock?"

"Look at it," Sherlock instructed. He grabbed John's hand and coaxed the tiger into John's palm. Sherlock was way too close to John that was acceptable for friends, and it made the latter a little nervous.

"This is amazing!" John exclaimed. He brushed off Sherlock's hand that was still clasping his wrist.

"Not going to faint again?"

"No. And don't say 'faint' it sounds too feminine. I just took an unplanned nap, that's all,"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Whatever makes it easier to sleep at night,"

"Where is our magician?" John wondered.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and answered, "I have no idea, but he's a thousand year old warlock. I'm sure he'll think of something,"

I'VE REACHED THE 10,000 WORD MARK YAY!

Sorry if anyone seems OOC. Yeah. Thanks for reading and waiting for updates and everything.