"Why is this place looks like a dump every time I arrive?"
John walked around 221b and looked at the place. There were dirty dishes on the living room table, rotten fruits in the refrigerator and human insides dissected on the kitchen table.
"It have always looked this way, John. Your indiscrimination amazes me every time." Sherlock was saying from his lay on the couch. It had been this way since John's baby was born, a small little Amelie with hands too small and eyes too big. "You know, I believe marriage life had ruined you."
"Marriage ruined me? Loneliness ruined you." John replied, a bitterness in his voice.
"I beg your pardon? I was perfectly alright before I met you." Said Sherlock, moving to sit on the couch.
"Who told you that?" Asked John. "Certainly not I."
A hint of a smile crossed over Sherlock's face.
"How is Mary?" He asked, his concern true.
"She's fine. We'll go to the restaurant tonight."
"I honestly never get that thing with you, going out to spend money rather than make a nice meal at home."
"In a restaurant we can try new food types. And besides, it's nice not having to wash the dishes." John smiled. "Not that it matters to you. You won't wash the dishes if you were having a feast."
Sherlock opened his mouth to answer when his phone rang, the sound of a text message.
He put up a finger to John. "Remember that." He said.
"Lastrad?" Asked John, hopefully. They had no worthy case in weeks and Sherlock was that close to start shooting the wall.
"No," said Sherlock. "Molly. Apparently she saw my brother at the hospital. Wondered if I might find it interesting." He grabbed for his coat.
"Since when do you find your brother interesting?" Asked John, surprised.
"Since he's in Oncology." Said Sherlock and went out the door, knowing that John would follow.