A/N: Well, I decided I would continue it. This is still set in ASiB and has some tie-ins with 'Christmas Blues,' but again you don't need to have read it. (EDIT: Actually, you might want to so that you understand the stairs reference) Hope you enjoy :)
"So…do you want to talk about it?" John asked carefully, looking up as Sherlock walked into the room.
Sherlock huffed, pulling his dressing gown closer around his body as he flopped onto the couch.
"That would be a 'no' then," John said drily, taking a sip of his tea and turning back to his newspaper.
"You did mess up my sock index," Sherlock commented accusingly after a long moment.
"You took the cigarette," John retorted, not looking up as he turned the page in his newspaper.
"Molly was there," Sherlock muttered.
John looked up in surprise, "What?"
Sherlock shook his head, "Nothing," he mumbled, turning his back on John.
John frowned, "Ok." He regarded Sherlock for a moment, before setting his newspaper aside and picking up his laptop.
"If you're going to blog about this, I would prefer you left the Christmas party out," Sherlock remarked, his voice a little muffled by the back of the couch.
"I wasn't planning on blogging about any of it actually."
"Good."
John stared at his screen, debating whether or not add the Christmas party to his file on Sherlock and Molly. There didn't seem much point now; he wondered if he should just forget about it all together.
"Home from home," Sherlock grumbled under his breath after a long moment, shifting onto his back.
"What?" John asked, slightly exasperated as he looked up.
"Mycroft."
"Ah."
John waited to see if Sherlock would say anything further, before turning back to his laptop as the silence stretched on.
Sherlock regarded John out of the corner of his eye, "John, you're a doctor-"
"So I've been told," John interrupted absently, his finger hovering over the delete key.
"-if someone fell down stairs, what are the chances of them sustaining a serious injury?" Sherlock continued, ignoring the interruption.
John looked across at him, confused. "Depends, how far did they fall?"
"Not far."
John shrugged a shoulder, "Probably just a few bruises then," he paused, "why?"
"Just making sure," Sherlock replied absently, steepling his fingers under his chin.
John eyed him with a mixture of exasperation and concern, "Uh huh."
Sherlock ignored his scrutiny and John turned his attention back to his laptop, still trying to decide what to do with the file. He jumped as Sherlock suddenly got up and stalked over to the window, grabbing his violin.
John sighed as the melancholy tune filled the room, turning back to his laptop he deleted the file.