Ever have life bitch slap you in the face? After I posted the first chapter of the fic I ended up having two 50+ hr weeks at work in a row since someone was sick. I was too busy to write the second chapter. Due to the delay I went into this vicious cycle of "It's so late I don't want to post the next chapter, oh god it's so late I should post the next chapter." No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get this one to where I wanted and so here we are months after posting the first chapter and it's quite sub-par.

Mainly just posting it so I don't feel guilty about posting the other fics I've been working on. Hopefully the other fics will make up for it. I promise to only post fics that are one shots or totally written and each chapter needs to be edited.

"For god's sake, Sherlock, slow down." John's voice rang out on the relatively quiet Baker Street. The Army Doctor was having a hard time keep up with Sherlock's long gait and every time he fell just a little bit behind the cuff on his wrist dug into his skin. Finally they had arrived at the door of 221B.

John found his hand being pulled into Sherlock's coat pocket as the taller man searched for the key to the flat. "Sherlock this would be easier if we worked together!" Once again Sherlock was not listening to him. Sighing John reached into his own pocket with his free hand to pull out his keys to the flat.

Knowing Sherlock wasn't going to listen to him John pushed Sherlock to the side ignoring the other man's complaints. Eventually John managed to get the door open and Sherlock was practically on top of him in his haste to get inside.

John noted Mrs. Hudson was there. He gave her a sheepish look. This was certainly an odd situation to have to explain, him and Sherlock being handcuffed together. Mrs. Hudson smiled at them, "Well you're home early, boys… I thought you had a case?"

John was about to answer her, to try to clear up any misconceptions she might, and probably did, have. However, Sherlock grabbed his hand and tugged him up the stairs, "There is no time, Mrs. Hudson!" Oh boy, what would she be telling the neighbors in the morning, John tried not to think about it.

They burst into their living room. "John, help me look for the key." Sherlock steered John towards the desks giving him a shove in the direction he wanted John to search. The doctor wasn't going to even ask how many times Sherlock had found himself handcuffed to need a universal handcuff key. John's knees crashed against the desk, "Ow! Sherlock not so hard."

Sherlock monopolized the use of John's right hand as the taller man searched the desk drawers. John moved pushed a stack of papers and several books of the desk. Though he doubted the key would be underneath this mess. One of the books must have meant something to Sherlock because when he saw it hit the floor. "Careful, John! That's delicate!"

John rolled his eyes and continued to toss the stuff from the desk onto the floor. "You know this would be easier if your desk was neater?"

"Hmm and it would be easier if you didn't do your drug checks and move everything of mine around." Sherlock responded absently, his attention mainly on searching the drawers.

John tossed another pile of crap off the desk, something metal hit the floor and skittered under the couch. At first John thought Sherlock might've heard it since he was tugged in that direction. However, Sherlock turned his attention to the bookshelf next to the couch. There were several boxes on the shelves that could hold the key but John was betting that the key had just slid under the couch.

Once again, John had no control of his right hand as Sherlock frantically searched the bookcase. John leaned against the couch trying to shove it with his left arm. It scraped just a bit across the floor. John grunted and shoved his weight against the couch again and again until he found what he was looking for. A fork. John cursed under his breath. All that for a piece of silverware.

John turned to see Sherlock looking at him, what a great help he'd been. He held up the fork, "Not here. How about we check your bedroom would it be in there?" John didn't wait for the answer but grabbed the chain of the handcuffs and pulled Sherlock after him.

"No, no not in my bedroom!" Sherlock complained, sounding like a child. The man didn't really like people going into his bedroom, messing up his sock index.

"We haven't tried there yet," John tugged Sherlock down the hall. "Besides you can't keep me out of your bedroom forever. You come into mine all the time…" John opened to door to Sherlock's bedroom, which was immaculate. John raised an eyebrow, if his bedroom was like this why couldn't he keep the living room this clean as well? John sighed.

Sherlock took control again and pulled John across the room, and practically jumped onto his bed to begin searching through his bedside table. The headboard smacked against the wall. John searched underneath the bed. Sherlock sighed, "I told you it's not here. And we don't have anything to cut the chain with. We could…" Sherlock trailed off and glanced at the chain then to the bedroom door.

"Oh no, no Sherlock, that is a horrible idea." John was saying as Sherlock pulled him to the door. Sherlock shoved him out of the bedroom, John fighting the entire time. He didn't like where Sherlock was going with this.

Sherlock grabbed the door with his uncuffed hand and slammed it shut. John had started to reach out to stop the door, "Sherlock-" was all the warning he managed to get out before the door slammed on his hand with a thud. A very undignified yelp escaped John's lips followed by a groan. The doctor inhaled through clenched teeth, as he opened and closed his hand trying to see if anything was broken. It seemed fine, just bruised, nothing broken.

Sherlock was lucky that it was John's right hand that was cuffed, otherwise he would've been punched, this time without asking to be.

So yeah, that's it. I dislike it but whatevs I said there'd be another chapter. Also I thought you'd like to see what caused the things Mrs. Hudson heard in the previous chapter.