English is not my native language and it's my first attempt to translate one of my fics. If something doesn't work, please let me know (:
Ah, I chose to keep the same structure as the original text (The original work is "Sempre Assim!") ─ which may seem a little weird, sorry guys!
John Watson was a quiet man ─ to some extent. But the whole situation was becoming impossible. He hadn't slept for hours, not that it was a problem; not even. The problem was the cause of his lack of sleep.
Sherlock Holmes; always arrogant and imposing. God knew how much it pissed him off! But more than that, nothing irritated John more than his friend's lack of consideration. It was always the same thing: a case came up, John was going to help him with the case and, as if by magic, Sherlock disappeared from view, always leaving him in a bad place. It wasn't different this time.
─ Achoo!
A sneeze. Followed by another. And another. This is what happens when you stay in the rain all night ─ and the cold London wind doesn't help at all in these cases. It was more of a typical case, simple thing. A missing object or something. Sherlock had asked John to wait for something on the street (which John didn't even know what it was), even in the rain. And in the end, nothing happened and everything had been in vain. John was wet from head to toe, literally. His clothes were soaked, his hair was messy, his shoes and pants were dirty with mud, and his face was more than irritated.
─ Achoo!
Ah, how he hated being that way! Irritated, it was how he was now at Baker Street. He came home without Sherlock, the doctor preferred to let him appear there.
He took a nice hot bath, put on light, clean clothes. Mrs Hudson made him some tea. He could say that he was calmer ─ but no less irritated. He decided to go to sleep, after all, it was almost day.
He woke up late, as he hadn't done in a long time. He was slow to get up, John wanted to enjoy that moment of rest as much as possible. He was reluctant, but sometime later got up. He went to the living room. Empty. Sherlock must have arranged another case and went to investigate it early, it was to be imagined.
The blonde went back to the room. Only then did he notice a small package on top of the table next to the bed. Or rather, it was placed there recently. He suspected it at first, but he took it anyway. And opened it slowly.
Astonished. That was exactly how he felt. The package contained a small bar of chocolate. Before he had time to think about who it was, he heard footsteps that stopped at his bedroom door.
─ Happy Easter, John.
He turned and found Sherlock, who appeared to be passing by. The blonde had no time to thank or express any reaction ─ Sherlock left as quickly as he had appeared.
And so, all his anger was gone. He couldn't be angry with him, not at all.