Sherlock Holmes. You've probably heard the name. At least once or twice. He was...striking. Granted the man was an absolute genius. People around all of London would stop along the streets to watch the peculiar man get into antics. John was relatively patient with Sherlock, but he even had his own limits. Sometimes watching your best friend climb out of a dumpster, covered in rubbish, chanting he had found the answer to their current case, while looking like a madman, was enough to make him want to grab him by his neck and sling him around to shake some sense into him. Never the less, John usually, if not always, was understanding to his friend. Sherlock, although he was..what some would call criminally insane, was also deep down a very kind man. He just processed the world in a different way, and who was John to judge?
Sherlock made his way through their London flat. It was clear he was in a giddy mood. His thumbs played with the straps of his suspenders before he dropped the newest edition of the paper onto the desk of John Watson.
"Watson, a body found along Carnaby." His voice was a low, but showed just how excited he had become. A new chase. The hunter, the rabbit. Sherlock enjoyed the hunt. The adrenaline. "The killer left bloody prints along the linen of the deceased. We must leave to investigate at once, doctor!"
John looked up from his typewriter and a small breath made it's way from his lungs. "Awful early isn't it?" John pointed out. "I couldn't sleep listening to you fire your gun throughout the night." He glanced up at the clock. It read 5am.
"Don't be such a ponce, Watson. It's unappealing." Sherlock shot back making eye contact. Sherlock himself hadn't been out in a few days. If he went too long without a case, he usually would begin to crash. Unfortunately, just a side affect of his intelligence. His mind had to keep occupied or he'd even drive himself mad."This story would be swell for your article." He argued.
John gave him an unimpressed look. "I'll tell you what, I'll tag along if you promise not to make ANY noise tonight. Allow me some peace and quiet, and I'll join you on this case."
John's conditions were something Sherlock wasn't fond of. "I practiced my calculations of aim." He replied his brows furrowed. He weighed the pros and cons.
"That wasn't the question, Holmes." John grumbled impatiently. As much as he loved him, he hated him too. How can you care for some one so much, and hate them at the same time? Hate was a strong word, but Sherlock really did get on his nerves at times.
"Fine. Just one night." Sherlock finally agreed and reached for his coat. "Now come along, Watson!" Sherlock's tone was showed how thrilled he was. They usually engaged in banter, however John was tired. He wouldn't be as energetic moving this early in the morning.
John forced himself up out of his desk chair and made his way over to the coat rack. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, and his movements were somewhat zombie-like. John appeared absolutely exhausted. Sherlock's hair was sticking up in places where it shouldn't, and he hadn't bathed in days. The two of them looked like quite the pair to say the least. "Lead the way, detective." John shot to his old friend. Finally giving him a tired smile.
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