Sherlock Holmes: The time before the fall

Part 1: John's Perspective

John awoke to the sharp, shrill whistling of the kettle. He yawned. He decided that perhaps staying up late and cleaning the kitchen was not the best choice if he was going to be roused so early. His shower could have also waited till the morning but after not washing properly for a few days he welcomed the burning water on his skin. He pulled himself into an upright position and yawned again. His stomach rumbled. John could barely remember the last time he ate. Sherlock moved so fast that John could barely keep up with him let alone have a bit to eat. He got out of bed and quickly it up. There were some routines from the military still ingrained in his day to day activities that he still couldn't shake. He pulled on his trousers and a t-shirt and began walking into the kitchen as he pulled his jumper over his head. John looked to Sherlock.

"Morning" he rasped.

His voice still rough from not being used yet. John watched Sherlock look him up and down. He was doing it again- figuring out things about him that John himself didn't even know. Sherlock met his gaze.

"Morning" he replied.

John knew the smile on his face was forced, but he appreciated it all the same. It was only then John noticed Sherlock was only wearing his thin, white bed sheet. John shook his head.

"I prepared you a cuppa."

John glared at Sherlock. He wouldn't soon forget how Sherlock had tried to drug him at Baskerville by adding sugar to his coffee. Sugar that Sherlock believed had hallucinogenic properties. John watched as Sherlock deduced what the anger in his eyes was in relation to.

"John I-"

John concluded that it wasn't worth being angry at Sherlock, he simply didn't know better.

"Thank you- I suppose you want breakfast then?"

"If you don't mind."

John could feel Sherlocks gaze on his as he headed towards the refrigerator. He opened it and glanced at into an almost empty fridge. He sighed in frustration.

"Sherlock, we'll need to get some food. Unless you're planning on eating these- are these fingers?"

He looked horrified at the bloody bag he was holding.

"Toast is good for me thanks."

John regretted not allowing Mrs. Hudson to clear the fridge last night, but then again, if she had stumbled along the bag. John didn't want to think of that. John shot Sherlock another glare for the fingers but this time Sherlock smirked coyly at him. John bustled around the kitchen. He fried some ham, and began placing condiments on the table in front of his flatmate. Feeling uncomfortable from all of Sherlocks staring John asked,

"plans for today?"

Sherlock only shrugged. John thought carefully as to how to word his next sentence so as to not anger Sherlock.

"Mycroft text me, and asked if you weren't busy if you could help him with something."

As soon as the words left Johns' lips he knew Sherlock wouldn't have any of it. Sherlock snorted and looked at him sideways.

"Okay I cleaned up the text a bit, it was a tad bit more demanding."

John watched Sherlock roll his eyes.

"Well you can tell my brother-"

"I'll tell him nothing Sherlock! I am not a messenger pigeon for your damaged and deranged relationships!"

John could feel himself growing hot under his jumper, his cheeks flushed. He was not Sherlocks puppet, no matter what anyone else thought.

"Right, sorry" whispered Sherlock.

John felt his anger lift.

"I did tell Mycroft the same thing."

John could see the pleasure and pride in Sherlocks face for telling off his older brother. John settled at his chair in the kitchen and pulled open his laptop. He began eating his breakfast while typing up their latest case. Occasionally he would glance up at Sherlock who was buried deep in the newspaper and noiselessly eating his toast.