A small series of one-shots about John and Sherlock living together, enjoy
It was 3pm, and Sherlock was laying sprawled out on the floor on his stomach in the living area of 221b Baker Street, his blue robe was over his head, hiding his face and his grey top had lifted slightly to reveal a band of ghostly white skin, his right hand was placed over a gun, and his left resting next to an, almost empty, red wine bottle.
From underneath his blue robe, where his head was, red liquid was seeping out, staining the carpet and his dressing gown.
John bounced up the stairs and into the flat, after clearly having spent a successful morning with Sarah, when he noticed his friend on the floor, and the red pool appearing to leak from him,
'Sherlock?' The doctor said, the body on the floor not stirring, 'Sherlock!' He repeated, the detective still not moving, he started to panic, had Sherlock really gotten THAT bored?
'Sherlock, don't do this!' John barked running over to his friend, but before he could lean over to touch him, the detective rolled lazily onto his back, revealing a rather large tea mug, with wine in had been spilled,
'BORED!' Sherlock shouted, grasping the gun and shooting angrily at the ceiling seven times, causing John to back away and cover his ears,
'BLOODY HELL!' John shrieked, glowering at the black haired man, when the smell of alcohol filled his nose, and he noticed Sherlock hiccupping and giggling like a child, 'wait a minute Sherlock, are you… drunk?'
Sherlock laughed loudly,
'Obviously, you're getting better at my job everyday,' Sherlock stated venomously, shooting the ceiling some more, and then hiccupping again, he rolled back onto his front with his knee's curled under him and his arms by his side, 'I NEED A CASE!' He slurred loudly, sounding like a bratty youth, that wasn't getting his way.
John sighed,
'I'll stick the kettle on then, shall I?'
***
Thank you to the lovely people who reviewed last chapter! Please do again, I appreciate it lots
I owe you all cookies.