John collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. It had been a long evening, to say the least. Sherlock had convinced him to stay at Baker Street. He certainly seemed interested in John, though the attention reminded John more of the attitude one would have about a sample under a microscope as opposed to anything resembling romance. And that's fine, John thought as he sank into the mattress, Just fine. He's too infuriating for me to ever love him anyway, maybe the whole thing is a mistake. He was still a little disappointed though. His whole life, he'd heard stories about magical romances, hoping someday he might find his own. And now, knowing that it was just a mistake… Ok, more than a little disappointed. John sighed. A murder mystery, a serial killer; who John had shot, for God's sake… Living at Baker St. was clearly going to be far from dull. John couldn't believe Sherlock had still wanted him to stay after what had happened at dinner. Surprisingly, things hadn't been nearly as awkward between them as one would expect. Sherlock doesn't have a soulmate, even though his name is on my arm. Is there really such a thing as a one- sided soulmate? It's so strange… John groaned and rolled over. He was so tired. He could worry about it in the morning.
Sherlock didn't sleep that night. Normally after the conclusion of a case like this one he would be tired, and sleep longer than usual. This time was different, though. John Watson. What is it about him? Sherlock had never been interested on the soulmate tattoos. He didn't believe he was capable of love, especially not romantic love, and the absence of John's name on his arm seemed to prove it. Still, it was odd. As far as he knew, there was no record of anything like this ever happening. What could it mean? That I am the person John Watson is meant for, that I am somehow right for him? But still, clearly in this case it doesn't go both ways. It doesn't make sense! Of course, the soulmate tattoos had never really made much sense to him anyway. No scientific explanation had been found for how or why they appeared. It was something most people took for granted, but Sherlock had never trusted it. It was too mysterious, not rooted in fact. His brain turned it over and over, examining and cross- checking every aspect, every potential solution. His mind was far too busy to allow for sleep, so he occupied himself by researching the soulmate tattoos. He hadn't bothered to learn much about them before, but now he had a reason. He never could pass up a good puzzle, and this one was certainly something new. He was so easily bored, anything to occupy his mind was a blessing. So he had made sure that John decided to stay, for experimental purposes. Perhaps he could learn something from this, and besides, having John along had already been useful once. It might be worth it to bring him on other cases as well…
'Morning,' John said as he descended the last few stairs, 'You're up early.'
'Mmm,' Sherlock murmured vaguely. John went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. 'What've you got to eat around here?' he asked. Barely a second later he recoiled visibly and shouted in alarm, 'Sherlock, there's hands in the refrigerator!'
Sherlock sighed and looked up from his laptop. 'Yes John, of course there's hands in the refrigerator. I'm conducting an experiment.'
'With hands? In the refrigerator?'
'Stop repeating yourself, it's annoying.'
John sighed and shut the refrigerator, his appetite gone. Yep, that tattoo is a mistake alright. He's so… Ugh! At the moment, John could barely stand to be in the same room as Sherlock, but at the same time… There was something that had made him decide to stay, the same thing that had made him follow Sherlock the previous night. For all his lack of social grace, Sherlock was compelling. He was such a dynamic personality that John couldn't help but be drawn in. He didn't suppose many people could, though Sherlock didn't seem to have that effect on people like Donovan. Or Anderson. Ugh, Anderson. Even John disliked him.
Sherlock sighed loudly, slammed his laptop shut, and let out a long, drawn- out, 'Boooreeed!'
'Well I'm not sure what you want me to do about it,' John said, 'I haven't even had a proper breakfast yet.'
Sherlock stood up and began pacing around the room. 'I need to do something or I'll go mad!' he said.
John had an idea, 'We could play a game,' he said, 'You like mysteries, we could play Cluedo.'
Sherlock said nothing, just flopped onto the couch, which John decided to take as a yes.
'Alright then,' he said, 'I'll go and see if Mrs. Hudson has a board. Maybe she even has something other than severed limbs in her kitchen.'