This is just sort of a short chapter to cure my boredom for the moment. It's a little argument between Sherlock and John but nothing bad because they'd patch it up in a second!^-^ So enjoy, and please review!
Disclaimer- I don't own Sherlock at all or John and Sherlock would've kissed by now XD
"What happened to the bloody carpet?!"
"Keep it down, John. I'm in the middle of transferring acid."
"Why is it that whenever I go out of town for a couple of days, you have the nerve to trash this place?" John barked out as he hung up his jumper. "You can't even behave for a week."
The consulting detective glanced at John as he adjusted the lenses on his microscope. "I've angered you."
"That's a good- good deduction. Yeah."
"Look John, I'll clean it up after I'm done here."
"Really, Sherlock," John asked with just a hint of doubt in his voice as he kicked the flat's rug.
"No, not really. You've grown a beard over the weekend. Can't say that I like it."
"Stop changing the subject like you always do, Sherlock! You've tracked mud all over the rug, and Mrs. Hudson's going to be bloody mad."
"She'll get over it eventually."
John clambered into the kitchen with a look of distaste on his face whilst holding a pair of muddy trouser for Sherlock to see. "Really, my underwear too? You've got to take more responsibility for what you do, love. You're not a sodding kid anymore."
Sherlock rolled his eyes briefly as he leant in to the microscope. "It was for an experiment. Oh, and I should mention that you need to buy more jumpers. They didn't survive the fire like I thought they would."
"The fire-oh you know what, never mind. I don't think I want to know, and before I lose itr, do you want me to make you anything?"
"Just tea for me, thanks. And John?"
"Hmm?"
"I missed you."
Even though Sherlock could be a pain in the arse sometimes, and annoyed John to no end with the hurtful deductions, he was the greatest man the doctor had ever laid eyes on. And he was proud to call the consulting detective his boyfriend.
"I missed you too," John smiled as he started picking up Sherlock's mess, something he'd be doing forever because Sherlock needed him to do it, because no one else would, and that was the way it was always supposed to be.