-Author's notes, hope you've enjoyed the first Supernatural part, we will return, but now you are entering the Sherlock world! Enjoy!
John staggered in to find Sherlock face down in the centre of their living room, dressing gown sprawled around his legs.
"Sh...Sherlock?!"
John threw down the shopping bags and ran to his roommate's side. He flipped the body over with more urgency than care and met dead eyes staring past John on to the ceiling. John couldn't stop the shaking of his hands when he went to reach for a pulse. Sherlock suddenly drew an extended breath and released a roar of:
"BORED!"
John flooded with more relief than anger but still released the cradled man so his head hit the floor with a satisfying thump and proceeded to throw his jacket over the infuriating man's face as he took the shopping to the kitchen. Sherlock didn't move, he just let the jacket shroud the dullness around him, he breathed in the musk of John as he listened to the unpacking; 'Milk, eggs, a jar...Unknown jar...Jam? Marmite? But we're not out of either.'
"John, what's in the jar?"
John turned to Sherlock who was still under his coat, "Well if you ever tried to help me unpack you'd know wouldn't you."
John finished unpacking and took a seat in the armchair facing Sherlock's backside. "Have you looked through the papers?"
-Silence-
"Sherlock?" He nudged his bum with his foot which was replied with a grumble and suddenly Sherlock bounced up and strode to the window, the evening light caressed the tall man's silhouette as he looked on to Baker Street with contempt.
"John, it is sickening, this stillness. There has been nothing in the papers, for three weeks now, nothing. Why? Why John? There's something wrong I can feel it."
"You can't just for once be happy that England is harmonic?" As soon as he said it John realised how ridiculous it was. Sherlock marched up, nose to nose and arms gripped to both sides of the chair committing John to his position.
"Without this, what do I have John? I need stimulation, my brain is devouring itself." Sherlock hadn't moved and his panting seeped up John's nostrils, he down cast his gaze unable to keep eye contact with a pair so penetrating. "Give me problems, give me work."
"Right, well. It's London so I'm sure you won't have to wait long." Sherlock flipped himself out of John's personal space, unsatisfied. John audibly exhaled and sunk in to his chair as Sherlock wandered to his room.
Moments later he emerged in a casual suit. John raised his eyes over his laptop screen, "Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Sherlock wait. Wh..." The door closed behind a sweeping blue coat and Sherlock was replaced with diminishing footsteps. John sighed, 'But at least he was getting out the flat for the first time in weeks, hopefully it'll do him some good.' Yet that thought didn't stop the army doctor staying up all night till he returned.