John sighed with frustration, it was just too much for him. The coffee table in front of him was covered in all kinds of papers, case files, books, sticky notes and then some. When he stumbled into the living room that morning and saw Sherlock working on "organizing" his case files he knew it was going to be a rough day. The detective was making it impossible for anyone else to be in the same apartment, leaping over the couch and tacking sticky notes everywhere and shoving case files into the most random locations (John once found the story of triplet murderers shoved in with the coffee filters).
"Sherlock couldn't you just get a file cabinet for these?" John sighed, trying his hardest to ignore the antics of the man in the dressing gown.
"John, make yourself useful and shut up." Came the caustic (and uncalled for) response.
"That's it, I am bloody tired of your nonsense, Sherlock clean up these papers or I'll throw them all away!" John roared, leaping up from the couch. In that moment it was easy to remember that he was a soldier, every inch of him radiated authority and anger.
"I have a system." Sherlock replied, his catlike eyes glaring into John's.
"The same system that decided it was okay to stab your mail into the mantelpiece?" John rolled his eyes and gestured to the knife that held all of Sherlock's letters in place.
"It's right where I want it." Sherlock hissed. "I don't need you to question it."
"Sherlock, I live here too and I am tired of wading through failed experiments, human body parts, and case files." John folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot, the two of them appeared to be a teacher scolding a student who forgot his homework. "So today we put an end to this."
Sherlock sighed reluctantly, and tossed one last pile of papers into the air for the sake of dramatic rebellion. John gave a sigh that echoed Sherlock's, he could see the long day stretching out before him...
John jumped when a mug of tea was placed on the endtable near his elbow, he'd been dozing and the sudden noise jerked him into the wide awake world of the living. He gratefully took the mug, and became barely awake enough to be surprised that Sherlock had lifted a finger to make tea. Yet there was the detective, perched on the arm of the couch and observing John with tired eyes.
"I suppose this is when you say thank you?" John jested, elbowing Sherlock playfully.
"Hmph. Doubtful. When have I been known to say that?" Sherlock smirked, at least having the decency to play off his ingratitude as a joke.
"You're a handful, I shouldn't have to babysit you all day and clean up your messes!" John scolded only half serious.
"Yet here you are." Sherlock leaned in to steal a kiss.
"Yeah, you lucky bastard."