John Watson had woke on this particular morning a very happy individual. He had managed to get enough sleep, which was a rare thing. This however led him to a certain regret. This meant that his flatmate would be overly moody, being that he had nothing to do.
By the time that John Watson finished dressing he could hear the banging of a gun. With a well needed sigh he looked at himself in the mirror.
"About time," he muttered to himself. He waited for a minute or two before he decided that the pause of bullets hitting the flat wall was a sign that his ' enjoyable' flatmate was out of bullets. With a sad smile that expressed the displeasure of finding out if his flat mate had ran out of bullets for good or was getting more John Watson walked out of his room and down his stairs.
He had almost stepped into the living room when he spotted a cup on the floor. He bent forward to grab it, and good timing too. For the instant that his fingers touched the cup there was a loud thump. John looked at the wall and gave a heavy sigh. Right where his head would have been if he had not thought about cleaning was a very interesting looking dagger.
"Ah, John I didn't see you there," a familiar deep voice said beside him.
He glanced towards Sherlock. Sherlock was still dressed in his pajamas which was much relief to John. One time he was bored he wore nothing but bed sheets. He was wearing his silk robe with two other throwing knives in his hands. John wasn't too sure if throwing knives were even legal in England. However he was sure that half of the things that Sherlock did was illegal so there was little point of bringing this up to him.
Thinking that Sherlock was done chucking knives, John had made the mistake of standing up. He was about to say something along the lines of going out on a date with some woman that isn't truly of importance when Sherlock chucked another knife half of an inch from his head.
"Sherlock would you mind not trying to kill me, this early in the morning?" John asked keeping completely calm like he always was.
"Would you mind moving, your head is right in front of my target." Sherlock said sounding completely bothered that John would complain about such little things.
Watson walked away from the wall and towards the kitchen, stopping for a moment when he saw a leg laying on the table. Well at least he thought it was a leg. Most of the tissue was removed and sat nicely in the trashcan. Leaving most of the muscles and bone showing. John decided it was best not look at it too long and turned away.
"You asked Molly for a leg?" John asked as he placed a cup in the sink.
"No, Molly was being unreasonable yesterday. I had to borrow it from the lab." Sherlock said and there was another thump from another blade hitting the wall. A tad bit harder than the first few throws.
"Borrow," John said quietly laughing to himself. Molly rarely said no unless she was dating. John was used to this and use to the small bit of anger that he had to get his "items" himself.
John decided that he should get something from the fridge. However when he opened it to see yet another head in the fridge he decided against it. With a shut of the fridge door Sherlock responded, "experimenting on how fast the brain dissolve with chemicals introduced to it."
John shivered and walked into the living room, " Only you would think up such a thing."
Sherlock tossed another throwing knife. This time it echoed through the flat. It was just loud enough to attract the attention of the land lady.
"Mr. Holmes! Are you destroying my walls again?" yelled out Ms. Hudson.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at Ms. Hudson who had walked up the stairs. Ms. Hudson could not be angry at Sherlock very often. She in her own way viewed him as a son. However she tried to keep reminding him that she was his landlady, not his housekeeper. Sherlock had his hand gun now back in hand and had it pointed at the wall.
Ms. Hudson grew slightly pink and responded by, "Mr. Holmes, you know very well that I hid that gun from you!"
Sherlock gave a side glance and smiled at her, "Ms. Hudson, putting a gun in a safe isn't hiding it, it's putting it in a box which might as well be made of cardboard. It is obvious that the code for the combination is 12-30-1 ."
Ms. Hudson grew red and a frown was set on her face.
"Sherlock , only you would suggest that," John said sipping a glass of water that he had gotten.
Sherlock gave a wicked grin and shot the wall again. Ms. Hudson seemed even angrier than normal and glared at Sherlock.
"This will be coming out of your rent!" she snapped as she stormed down the stairs.
John watched as Sherlock tossed the gun to the corner of the room. It clanked roughly on the side of the wall. Sherlock did not care at the moment and jumped onto the couch and let himself fall into it. He glared at wall and laid his head back to look at the window.
"I am so bored. Why doesn't somebody kill someone? It has been two weeks and not a single murder." Sherlock complained.
"I know isn't it great people are learning to get along." John said with a smile, knowing too well that was not what Sherlock meant.
Sherlock glared at him, "Maybe for simple minded people who wish for everything to be jolly, however the truth is that people will never get along. The reason why no one has been murdered is because someone is planning, John. Murders will again start happening."
"You know, this can't be healthy," John said sitting on the opposite chair.
"I know John, I know," Sherlock said, putting his hands together and placing them under his chin.
John waited patiently until Sherlock responded, knowing that it was best not to interrupt him while he was thinking. John, deciding that it was best to plan ahead, took out his phone and contacted the woman who he was going to date that night.
"Are you busy tonight?" Sherlock asked opening his eyes and glancing in John's direction.
"Yes, Lynda and I are going out for dinner," John said slowly trying to pay attention to what he was typing in.
"She's married," Sherlock said with a sigh.
John looked up at Sherlock, a look of shock across his face.
"What do you... never mind. How did you come to that conclusion?" John asked.
Sherlock looked at his friend with a confused look.
"You know, this can't be healthy, not knowing what your partners real lives are. It must be horrible," Sherlock said, looking back out the window.
John sighed, every time that he had ever thought about going on a date it would be ruined by Sherlock. Even though most of the time they were doomed to fail in the first place, John tried to remind himself never to mention if he was going on a date with anyone.
"How did you know?" John asked.
"I was borrowing some money from your wallet when I came across a photo of Lynda. Interesting photo I might say. Her left hand ring finger has a white pale strip of skin and a slight indent. If she was recently divorced it would have just the tan line. However there is a circular indent showing that she is indeed married. Her finger is too big for the ring, but won't get it resized. She won't leave her husband, he is too wealthy by the look of her clothing and the diamond earrings. Get out of it, she is using you." Sherlock said, not even glancing back at John.
"How much did you borrow?" John asked as he opened his wallet.
"It doesn't matter, you would have spent that much money on that date anyway." Sherlock said moving slightly to look at John.
John noticed that his wallet was completely empty.
"Sherlock, what in the world did you do with 250 pounds?" John asked a little angered.
"John, how else am I going to buy chemicals and bullets?"
"250 pounds! You stole 250 pounds so that you could shoot at a wall and have another head in the refrigerator!" John said, a little more angry.
Sherlock looked at John with a confused look. What was John's problem? He should be used to this by now.
"How am I going to get through this month?" John muttered as he looked at Sherlock.
"Easy, you solve this case with me," Sherlock said, looking out of the window.
John shook his head, "What, are you going to kill somebody?" John asked.
"No, the person waiting finally snapped," Sherlock said, walking in the direction of his room.
"Why do you say that?" John asked as Sherlock disappeared.
"Easy, John, Detective Inspector Lestrade doesn't just go to 221 B Baker St. because he can. He comes here because he is desperate."
The door slammed behind Sherlock, leaving John standing in the living room. It was then that John heard the knocking on the door. John walked down the stairs and made his way towards the door. Opening it, he saw a man whose hair was beginning to gray slightly. He wore the same look that he always did. Something between a smile and no emotion at all.
"Good morning detective inspector, where has the murder been?" John asked.
"St. James Park."
"We take it, we'll be right there." John responded and was about to shut the door when the inspector stopped him.
"That's it? You don't want to know anything about it?"The inspector asked.
"Trust me,Sherlock would do anything to get out the house." John said with a sad smile on his face. He generally gave a lot of sad smiles.
The inspector raised his shoulders and gave a sigh. "Hopefully he understands what is going on."
John nodded and shut the door. He let himself lean against it and looked at the ceiling as if to beg it to be an abnormal day. It was then Sherlock came downstairs dressed in his coat and a blue scarf. He looked like he did every day. Ready for an adventure. He stopped for a moment and looked down at John who was in the way of the door.
"John, get up. We got to get to the crime scene," he said.
There was a second pause and John jumped up and walked outside with Sherlock following. Before entering the cab, Sherlock took a deep breath of the spring air.
"Ah, yes, a perfect day for a murder."