A/N: Okay okay so I've definitely been slacking on posting these. I'm a bit caught up in organizing things for my upcoming move and the Johnlock gift exchange/challenge. I'll work on more this weekend :3
Day Fourteen: The word is 'wind.'
John trudged—no, splashed would be far more accurate—up the pavement, a few buildings from 221B, and cursed as he sunk ankle-deep into an icy puddle. London was at the mercy of a nonstop downpour and the torrential deluge had begun moments after he'd left the surgery, without an umbrella. Naturally.
John turned up his collar against the vicious wind at his back and lengthened his strides, head ducked to obtain a bit of protection from the elements. A shiver ran through him as rainwater slid down his neck and left a chilly trail under his jumper. If there were ever a moment for a sleek black car to whisk him away to a mysterious warehouse, this would be it. At least he'd get a ride home out of it. Bloody Mycroft.
Pushing through the crowds rushing home out of the rain, John made it to the flat within five minutes. As he shrugged out of his dripping jacket and shook the water from his eyes, John cocked his head at the whirring noise floating down the stairs.
He sighed and braced himself for whatever absurdities Sherlock had concocted today. The scene waiting for him at the top of the steps only lent more confusion.
The sitting room windows were thrown wide open, exposing the room to gusts of wind and pouring rain. Several floor fans were scattered about, running full power, and case documents fluttered through the air. Everything within reach of the open windows was quickly becoming drenched.
"Wha—Sherlock!" John shouted over the racket. "What the hell—" He broke off.
Sherlock flew past him with an armful of papers and flung them on any available surface.
John could only stare.
Sherlock looked every bit a deranged scientist. His dark curls seemed to have expanded and stuck out every which way, and his goggles—Well. They magnified his eyes, bug-like in their appearance. He was flapping his arms about in a way that gave him the look of a rather over-sized bird.
John was torn between laughing manically and walking away, leaving Sherlock to his own devices. Instead, he looked at Sherlock questioningly.
Sherlock smirked, the left side of his lips quirking up endearingly. "It's an experiment, John!"