"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"It's one o'clock."

"Yes?"

"Let me be more precise: it's one o'clock, in the middle of the night."

"Technically, one o'clock isn't in the middle of the night."

"Shut up."

"What do you want, John?"

"I want to sleep."

"Well, you can't do that here, can you?"

"No, not really. No."

"You could sleep upstairs though."

"Damn it, Sherlock!"

"It is true."

"And you are killing twelve cats in the middle of the night."

"I was playing the violin. I need to practice."

"… How true."

"I smell sarcasm."

"It has been a productive night then I guess."

"I can see sarcasm."

"Great. Can you stop playing the violin then?"

"No. I need to think, John."

"Yeah… well, I need to sleep. Have to go to work tomorrow."

"Work's boring."

"You work too."

"Okay, let me rectify. Your work is boring."

"Fine. Give that to me."

"No. It's my violin."

"Give. It. To. Me."

"John, stop it! No, seriously, stop it!"

"Sherlock! I'm sick and tired of you and your stupid games and experiments and everything! I want to sleep, I've got a headache and you play it terribly!"

"really?"

"Don't pout. I'm really angry!"

"Yes, I can see that."

"… and don't mess with me when I'm angry. Now, give it to me."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll break it."

"You already broke my skull and my purple shirt."

"You burnt my jumper."

"I melted your jumper."

"I want your violin so I can sleep. It won't be a bad idea for you either."

"What?"

"For goodness's sake… I can believe we're having this conversation in the middle of the night."

"As I said before John, one o'clock isn't really in the middle of the night."

"Sod it."

"John! Leave it! … No, give it back to me!"

"You'll get it back in the morning. Go to bed."

"But I don't want to."

"Come with me then."

"Can I have my violin back tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

"You're not really sick and tired of me, are you?"

"We'll see about that tomorrow…"