Sherlock leaned his back against the door, his breathing heavy from his panicked flight.
There was little more embarrassing than the woman you relate as your bother catching you in the nude.
One of those things being catching you in the nude after walking out of the same room as another person.
Laughter filtered up the stairs, adding a slight warmth to the detective's cheeks.
He shook his head slightly,trying to clear his thoughts.
What had John told me?
Put your clothes on.
First thing's first.
Pants.
Sherlock considered simply redressing in his previous outfit, though as he looked at the wrinkled and stained mess that it had become, he decided against it.
Instead, he moved to John's dresser, and dug through drawer after drawer until he was rewarded with the oversizesd blue pajama bottoms that John had been sentimental enough to keep.
Further digging revealed a few of his old T-shirts and his robe.
Never before had the detective been so thankful for his blogger's attachments.
The only thing that he couldn't find was a pair of pants.
A thought struck him, full and forceful.
Without further ado, he dressed, a wicked smirk gracing his Hudson came into the kitchen, her face red.
Meanwhile
"Goodness me what a way to start the day."
John Chuckled, the sound shaking his shoulders as he quickly started the toast.
"Yea, the git still has no decency."
The landlady burst out laughing, the former doctor unable to resist joining in.
After he had managed to catch his breath, he leaned back against the counter, his still-too-hot mug in his hands.
"I'm sorry you had to see that though. It seems to be one shock after another."
The woman nodded, settling herself down in one off the kitchen chairs.
After a few moments of simply smiling at him, John grew uncomfortable.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing anywhere but Mrs. Hudson.
"What?"
Her smile widened, and she drummed her fingers playfully against the counter top.
"So making up for lost time, are we?"
John shook his head, a sad sort of smile in place, despite the blush that was creeping up his neck.
"No, nothing like that I'm afraid. He only just pulled a Lazarus, I don't think we are ready for that just yet."
Sherlock appeared from around the corner, his standard lounge wear in place.
"Don't think we're ready for what?"
Both pairs of eyes fell on him, their conversation silenced.
"Err. Sherlock. Good to see that you found, umm those."
The former doctor pointed at him, his hand's not leaving his mug.
Mr's Hudson smiled knowingly at John, his halting speech belaying his thoughts of the detective's attire.
After all, it didn't take a genius to notice how his physic had changed.
The previously comfortable T-shirt was now a half size too small, revealing toned muscles with every movement.
His bottoms, on the contrary, were even baggier than before, the apparent physical activity of the past three years having thinned his waist impossibly smaller.
The effect of such a sight had the former doctor staring, his gaze darkened and lips parted.
"Yes, they were a very convenient find. I must say your sentimentality can be relied upon."
The toaster went off, Sherlock bending around his blogger to grab the toast before shoving it into his mouth.
A flash of red had caught the former doctor's eye.
John was frozen to the spot, his mind working feverishly to process what he had seen.
Had those been-
No he wouldn't.
Would he?
That bastard, of course he would.
"John."
The detective muttered through chewing his toast.
"What aren't we ready for?"
The former doctor shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Forget that I said anything."
Mrs. Hudson raised a critical eyebrow, a knowing wink cast in the direction of her recently reunited tenants.
Sherlock smiled openly at the woman.
"I take it yo spent most of yesterday evening with your sister."
She nodded.
"I stayed all night actually. Just got back in a few hours ago. Took a quick nap before coming up to see you two."
She rolled her eyes.
"Saw more than I wanted too, thank you."
The detective stifled a blush, while John simply smirked.
"I, well. It was John's fault really."
The doctor gaped at the detective, surprised.
" How the fuck-Sorry Mrs. Hudson- Is it MY fault. You're the one who whipped his towel off in the kitchen before prancing about the flat."
Sherlock threw hos hands up.
"I do not prance, John. And you started it by staring!"
"I wouldn't have been staring if you would have been wearing some fucking clothing."
Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes, clapping her hands sharply to earn both men's attention.
"Enough. Both of you. Let's just not aim for a repeat, yes?"
John glanced at Sherlock mischievously, an unspoken conversation flickering between them at the mere thought of such a challenge.
Their landlady cleared her throat, eyeing the two of them wit ha soft smile.
"Should I come back at another time?"
Both men turned to her unanimous exclamations of "Yes!" and "No" filling the air.
John elbowed Sherlock in his still-bruised ribs, earning him a pained growl.
"No Mrs. Hudson. Stay. I'm sure that you have a thousand questions for Sherlock."
No one missed the way the detective's eyes widened in both panic and horror.
"No, I believe Sherlock answered the majority yesterday."
Disappointment flickered across John's features.
He had been looking forward to a more in depth look at Sherlock's ordeal.
One that was not in between the covers of a manila folder.
"Well there is one question that I do have, though I don't think this is the appropriate time or setting to ask it."
She pointed around them, at the mess their kitchen had become in the span of the day.
The disheveled men standing in the middle of it.
"Tell you boys what. I'll set up dinner tonight, and phone you with the details."
She was already up, her hands clasped to her chest.
"Oh it'll be lovely! Like a little reunion party."
The detective went to protest, but one glance at the excitement in Mrs. Hudson's eyes defeated any semblance of rebellion he had.
He let out a forlorn sigh, rubbing his face with his hand.
"Fine."
The woman tottered out of the room, before poking her head in the door quickly.
"Oh, and John? Thank you for being merciful on Mr. Disappearing act. I'd have beaten him far worse if I'd have been you."
She winked at John, before glaring playfully at the detective.
"Anyway, take care boys."
With that she was gone, the sound of her heels clicking against the steps the only thing filling the resulting silence.
Sherlock coughed awkwardly, grabbing his rapidly cooling tea from the counter, before John grabbed his arm.
"Alright Sherlock. I have just one thing to say to you."
His tone was stern, reprimanding.
Commanding.
"For fuck's sake why are you wearing my pants?"