The night was just beginning to cast over Baker Street, the darkness was blocking out the pattern on the wallpaper in front of John, painting it black. John was at his laptop, currently the only little light left in the room along with the orange gleams casted by the streetlights that lit up the street. He was blogging, nothing new there. John was wearing one of his usual checked shirts and jumper, his smoky grey hair still cut into the style suited for military. Sherlock just sat in his chair, if he was normal you'd think he was just daydreaming. But no, this was Sherlock Holmes; John knew that he was probably visiting his mind place. John peered at Sherlock, there he was sat in his usual ebony black suit completed without a tie, his blue eyes seemingly scanned the room. John thought about the differences between how his life used to be and how it was now and smiled slightly.
"BORED!" shouted Sherlock. John jumped at the sound as though a bomb had just gone off, the thought of not having Mrs Hudson as their landlady ran through John's head. The fact they would've been thrown out after just a few weeks of moving in due to Sherlock's tactics made John shudder.
"I NEED A CASE!" Sherlock demanded. John sighed and looked at Sherlock, he hated seeing him like this but he couldn't just make up a case, could he? John thought about it for a second. No of course he couldn't, Sherlock would see straight through it in 5 seconds flat.
"There are no cases available, Sherlock" John explained. "I really do wish you were normal sometimes or at least acted it". Sherlock glanced at John passing a message through his eyes. There was now no need for Sherlock to respond with speech.
"NORMAL IS BORING! IF I WAS NORMAL OR EVEN IF I ACTED IT MY BRAIN-"
"I know, your brain would rot", John finished Sherlock's response. Sherlock stared at him. Was he mad because John had interrupted? Did he not like someone knowing so much about him that they could predict what he would say? John could not tell.
"BORED!" Sherlock announced yet again. He was going off like the bell at city hall that would strike whenever the time hit the hour. John glanced at the time, 6:00pm, maybe Sherlock would shout bored six times, John thought to himself and chuckled or perhaps 18 times.
"BORED!" he annouced again. Well he's half way there John thought to himself.
"OH SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHERLOCK!" John snapped, he half expected to see Sherlock stunned by shock but no, he knew that wouldn't be the case, Sherlock knew him too well to be shocked by such a thing. And the things that Sherlock had seen made shocking him one of the most difficult things he'd ever come across. And I thought algebra was hard, John thought. John scoured his mind to think of something to distract Sherlock. "Why don't you watch the game with me?" This was ashamely all he could find. He instantly regretted it when he caught a glimpse of Sherlock's eyes.
"WHY WOULD I WANT TO WATCH SOMETHING WHERE PEOPLE GET EXCITED WHEN A BALL IS KICKED THROUGH THREE METAL POLES STUCK INTO THE GROUND?!" Sherlock snapped.
John instantly defended the game. "FOOTBALL IS MORE THAN THAT SHERLOCK! IT'S-"
Sherlock waved his hand to stop John. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!", Sherlock snatched his coat and scarf, John could've sworn he looked as though he was about to strangle himself with it, and stormed out of the door. "I'm off!"
"Could you get some jam and milk whilst you're out?", John knew the answer would be no but he couldn't help trying, hoping that one day Sherlock would say yes.
"NO!", Sherlock shouted back, nothing new there.
