Another normal morning dawned on 221B, well relatively normal considering who lived there.
John woke up and made tea. Sherlock hadn't slept last night and so had been on the couch by that point, plucking absentmindedly at his violin. John attempted to coax Sherlock into some breakfast, Sherlock replied by setting off a small explosion in the kitchen.
After all, one would never expect the infamous Holmes and Watson to be fazed by witnessing a murder.
John was seated in his armchair, still in his bathrobe and sipping his tea, when Lestrade popped in.
"Got another one for you two." The D.I. sighed, and John felt pride well up in his chest. Lestrade had started posing his cases not just to Sherlock, but to Sherlock and John as a unit. In fact this is how most people treated them was as one unit, two halves of a whole.
Sherlock's head appeared in the kitchen doorway, half sulking from having been ordered to clean up the mess his "controlled explosion" had caused. There was still an order pending about eating for once like a normal human being but John wasn't getting his hopes up.
"What is it this time?" He asked, clearly interested in another case to distract himself with.
"Murder. The murder of one Mr. Milverton to be exact, the only lead we have is from the neighbors and it's not much to go on."
Sherlock and John shared a look, then Sherlock turned back to Lestrade wearing a mask of interest.
"Well go on, what's this lead?" he asked.
"They say they saw two men running from the scene, they didn't get a good look at the first one they just said he was very tall. They said the second was shorter and stockier with sort of dusty colored hair." Lestrade peered at the detective that so often made something out of nothing, hopefully he could shine some light on this.
Sherlock gave the barest smirk, and hesitated a moment before replying.
"Why, Lestrade!" He said. "That doesn't give me anything to work with! Such basic descriptions! Why that second one could be a description of John!"
John nearly choked on his tea trying not to laugh, and managed to hide it with a well placed cough. Sherlock's smirk grew a little wider but he hid it once the D.I.'s attention was turned back to him.
"Yeah, it could be. Sorry for wasting your time. Honestly some of these things just slip through the cracks..." Lestrade stood with a sigh and gave a halfhearted wave before departing.
As soon as Lestrade had left the room the two men turned to each other and erupted into laughter.
"Could be a description of me?" John laughed. "Trying to get me arrested on murder charges are you?"
"Oh please nothing you haven't risked before." Sherlock rolled his eyes but his smirk continued.
"So I guess we're not turning in that woman?" John asked.
"No, I should think not." Sherlock replied. "Justice comes in many forms, it just so happened to come in the form of a murder last night." He shrugged. "In this case I hold nothing against her."
John nodded, remembering the night he had killed the cab driver to save Sherlock's life. He could sympathize with the woman.
Sherlock was clearly hoping that John had forgotten about his explosion cleaning duties, he lingered in the living room taking a place on the couch. He put the palms of his hands together and rested his hands against his lips, taking on one of the customary Holmes thinking poses. John studied those hands, and then stretched out his own thinking about the other thing that happened last night.
He could still feel Sherlock's hand in his, the pale thin fingers interlocking with his. His heart started pounding and he almost winced. All he wanted was to hold that hand again.
Sherlock looked up and noticed that John was staring at his own hand, he raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
John started, then lowered his hand.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He nodded, covering his embarrassment with a nervous smile.
Sherlock looked at John's hand, then his face, then his own hands, seemingly connecting the dots of John's train of thought.
"John..." He asked. "Are you sure everything is alright? Did you injure your hand last night?" The question was innocent and concerned enough, but John knew that if he had been hurt Sherlock would have known about it instantly. He was probing for a real answer by using a fake question.
"I'm alright, Sherlock!" He insisted. "Really!"
Sherlock leaned forward and slowly took John's hand in his own. John blushed and that caused Sherlock to smile triumphantly.
"So, that's it." He allowed their hands to come together and then placed a feathery kiss on the back of John's hand. "Behind the curtain last night, your heart rate was elevated. I thought it was from fear of being caught...was it something else?"
John stared into those amazing eyes, wishing he could disappear. Then he sighed.
"Maybe I'll tell you. If you go eat a real breakfast, and promise to sleep tonight!" He adopted a more authoritative tone, removing his hand from Sherlock's so that he could cross his arms over his chest.
"Of course." Sherlock smiled and stood to walk to the kitchen. Halfway there he stopped and turned back to John. "As long as I sleep in your bed of course."