Hello again! Finally an update with a new Sherlock and John drabble! I personally really enjoy writing these I hope it is equally enjoyable to read!

Reviews are very welcome! :D

Today was a night in which Watson had the opportunity to go out and have dinner with some colleagues. And out of politeness, he wanted to bring his detective friend along with him. Yet of course, instead of being out there, having fun, he was somehow stuck at 221b Baker Street, still trying to convince his flat mate to step outside his bloody room.

"Now you're being simply unfair, Holmes. These are my friends, and yours as well. It might even cheer you up!" He tried.

"I'm not depressed." Holmes scoffed.

Watson ignored him. "Didn't you believe that people's natural happiness and festivity is contagious?"

"You're right," Said the detective, leaning on the doorway in only his robes, with his usual messy hair, smelling of something acidic and looking as dirty as a human being possibly could… "But I never said that their contagiousness was a good thing now, did I? It's all the more reason of staying here, in my room, tonight." Sherlock stood straighter now. "And what is this about friends, John? I'm your only friend."

"Correction, Holmes. I'm your only friend." John Watson told him, crossing his arms in front of him in sheer impatience. "You are such a child." He sighed.

Holmes frowned. "Am not. Mother hen." He said spitefully, not that it had any effect on his flat mate.

"Then go get dressed and come with me to the dinner." Watson ordered.

"Make me."

"You wouldn't like it if I did."

"Doesn't sound convincin– umphf!" With a quick gesture, Watson had pushed Sherlock Holmes inside his room using his cane. The detective landed on his bottom. He was really only wearing his robes.

"God! Cover it up, Holmes!" Watson closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"What, you mean this?" With that, Sherlock Holmes struck a pose and waited until the doctor had the courage to look again.

And Watson did, but not for long. With a sigh of annoyance and despair, the doctor closed the bedroom's door with Holmes inside.

"Haha, Watson. I win." Said the old boy.

Chances that he would be coming out on his own again this evening?

Unlikely.