Hello! It's me again, sorry! I wrote this quite quickly and only read it through once, so please point out any mistakes! I'm not as pleased with this chapter as much as my others.

Sherlock = Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC, not me.

List of things Sherlock Holmes can NOT do:

Give Birth

Shop

…

"What are you doing?" Asked Sherlock somewhat groggily, appearing in his Pyjamas and dressing gown.

"Writing a list." Replied John, folding the piece of paper up and tucking it safely in his pocket. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes please." Sherlock plonked himself down on the sofa.

"You're up later than usual." Mused John, boiling the kettle.

"Mm."

"Did you sleep well then?"

"Didn't sleep at all." Replied Sherlock, flicking through the newspaper. Then he suddenly said. "But that doesn't mean I can't! I am perfectly capable of sleeping, I just don't feel like it sometimes." He shot John a sour look.

John decided to play dumb. "And why would I think that?"

"Because you're still trying to find things I can't do. I'm not blind. I assure you, you're wasting your time."

"Right-o." John smiled, handing Sherlock a steaming mug. He groaned, realising John was not about to give up.

"Lestrade texted me this morning. He's got something he wants me to take a look at."

"Oh right, well I meant to tell you yesterday, Harry wants me to go stay with her for a couple of days." Sherlock's face fell a little, he had been assuming that John would accompany him to solve this latest case.

"Sorry, unless you'd rather she came here?"

"No no no, that's fine. Have fun." Said Sherlock hastily. He did not enjoy people staying over, prying in his work and exclaiming about the mess and his skull.

"I'll leave this evening, don't worry, there's plenty of food in the fridge. And please try to sleep a little." John realised it sounded like he was talking to a stubborn young child, he hoped he hadn't offended his flatmate. But Sherlock just nodded and sipped his tea.

John treaded wearily up the stairs. It was always stressful visiting Harry. With the drinking, and the moping which encouraged more drinking. But he didn't want to completely lose contact with his only sibling. So he put up with her and tried (and failed) to help.

He pushed the door open and called out "I'm home!" He hung up his coat on the back of the door.

"Sherlock?" No reply. He looked round the flat and saw him. He was sat at his desk, leaning forwards so his forehead was on the table.

John walked softly towards him. "Sherlock?" A light snore was his only reply. He considered just leaving his flatmate there, he was obviously in need of sleep. But it really didn't look very comfortable.

"Sherlock." Said John softly, shaking his shoulder. Sherlock sat bolt upright, startling John and shouting "The scone is poisoned!"

He looked dazedly around, then tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he collapsed back into the chair.

"Careful, you probably got a head rush." John said calmly. He looked at Sherlock. Something was not quite right. His eyes were half closed and he looked extremely pale. "Are you alright Sherlock?"

"Me? Yeah…m'fine." He tried to stand up again, this time he managed to remain upright for a few seconds before collapsing to the floor.

"Sherlock!" Exclaimed John in alarm. He knelt down next to his head, feeling his forehead.

"Johhhn." Came a whiney voice. "My head hurts."

"Sherlock…how much have you eaten today?"

"Err…nothing."

"Please tell me you at least drank something." Sherlock shook his head. John groaned. He helped Sherlock sit up and then pulled him over to the sofa.

He walked over to the fridge. He sighed. Exactly as he left it. Which meant…Sherlock hadn't eaten in three days. John filled a glass with water and walked back to the Detective.

"Drink this Sherlock." He pushed the cold glass into Sherlock's hand. He gulped it down clumsily. "Not too fast."

"I've got to-" He made to stand up, waving his hand towards the photos and bits of paper on his desk.

"Oooh no you don't." John pushed him back down. "You don't eat, you don't work."

"Food…slows me down…" Grumbled Sherlock.

"Sherlock. Your brilliant mind may not need food. But you have a human body, that needs energy to keep going. Did you really just…decide not to eat?" Asked John, exasperated. Sherlock mumbled something.

"Sorry?" John asked, leaning forwards slightly.

"I forgot." Sherlock didn't look at him. John pressed his lips together to stop himself smiling. After he made sure Sherlock was comfortable on the sofa he pulled out the list from his pocket and scribbled down three words.

"What are you writing?" Demanded Sherlock weakly. "Show me!" He whined, flailing his hand at his flatmate, as John put it back into his pocket.