Caring is Not an Advantage- Johnlock

The Morning After

CHAPTER TWO BROUGHT TO YOU BY MY PARTNER IN CRIME CUMBERCOOKIES <------ PLEASE GO FOLLOW HER

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Chapter 2

John complained much longer than Sherlock had been bothered to listen for. In the end he got up suddenly and grabbed the scotch from the kitchen. "Great how there's never any milk but this dicks always got something to 'relax' him." Thought John before Sherlock handed it him hoping this plan wouldn't back fire on him.

It smelt like cleaning products. John opened his eyes to his darkened room. He worked out from the sandpapery feel in his mouth and sight of a tipped over bottle that he'd passed out. Well that and the pounding headache he could feel making it impossible for him to deny the hangover he was suffering from. John could only half remember the previous night's conversations. Sherlock must have treated him the same way he had Sherlock following their first encounter with The Woman as he'd been tucked into bed too. At this John slightly chuckled to himself as a little touch like this reminded John that there was actually a heart in Sherlock's emotionless facade somewhere.

He braced himself for the thumping in his head to worsen and quickly sat up. After taking a moment he swung his legs out of bed and felt them land in a damp puddle. "So that's where the smell's coming from. Great."

One shower and cuppa' later while sitting in their living room John witnessed Sherlock march in from downstairs wearing his usual getup of, a scarf, his coat and purple shirt. He was carrying a plastic shopping bag with...

"Is that blood?" John said in a soft, quiet tone.

"Well what else would it be?" Sherlock replied. He swooped into the kitchen taking out various

"body bits?"

"Are you still drunk? Yes. 'Bits' and bobs. Got them from Bart's."

"Oh" mumbled John, this had become the norm for him some how.

"How... What did I do last night by the way?" he asked.

Sherlock stopped and smirked to himself looking out of the window.

"You'll find it on YouTube." He said picking up where he left off.

"Ugh, Jesus." John started searching for his laptop.

Meanwhile Sherlock was unloading and measuring big toes into the microwave. He set it for 8:32 minutes and sauntered out into the corridor to retrieve more of these blood sodden bags.

Frantically but silently John was searching the hellish draws in the desk near the window. With no luck he shouted through into the kitchen "Sherlock, have you seen my laptop?" He said looking up surprised to see the hawk-like man already standing there arm extended offering the silver slate John was looking for.

"Ta."

John sat down and started to open the lid. Sherlock slammed it back down looking John in the eyes.

"It's not for the faint of heart."

Looking back into ocean coloured eyes John gave a frightened, innocent little look. His taller friend turned away but not with out sniggering and forming a delighted teeth-bearing shit-eating grin.

"Oh Jesus. I am in for it aren't I?"

"I think you'll find it amusing. By the way, were you planning on putting the rest of your clothes on today?"

John looked down and remembered he'd just thrown some pants on under his un-done dressing gown.

"Enjoying the view?"

Another smirk and Sherlock turned back into the kitchen with a smug grin still etched onto his face.

The microwave went "PING!" and out arose the pungent stench of warm and rotting flesh.

The doorbell went "PING!" and from downstairs calling out to a rather startled looking Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock remained with his work but was tentative towards the activity downstairs. John was pre occupied searching YouTube staring at the screen anxiously.

Confidence took a human form in Mycroft Holmes. Striding upstairs like he owned the place, he often forgot that even though he was essentially the British Government, his little brother however was not in the slightest concerned with Britain's affairs. All this came back to him as soon as he stepped over the threshold to apartment B. Old red cotton thrown from the walls to the bin that was once used to connect rats and criminals, yellow spray paint coated  the walls in the formation of a smiley face no to mention the bedroom door was wide open and quite frankly 'an utter tip' thought the smarter brother.

Announcing himself with "have you learnt how decomposition works yet, Brother mine?" With a Suggestive glance to the toes on the counter. Comments like that reminded Sherlock that at heart he was only a convenient sociopath, and that there really was a whole childhood in a nutshell in the ways in which they addressed each other.

"You've put eight pounds on in the last two months and lost four and a half of them in the last three weeks, probably because of you're relationship status, more likely because the Korean elections aren't going the way you and your little 'government' had hoped." Sherlock remarked, putting Mycroft back in his place. "What do you want? I certainly hope it's not about the Koreans... borrrriii--"

"Noo... I'm quite sure we can handle that." Answered Mycroft in his most sarcastic voice. He proceded to sit in John's chair, playing his brother and watching him hide his growing contempt. "I want you to investigate a disappearance, a lord from the houses--"

"No." Sherlock rejected in his best high-pitch-nope!-I-don't-think-so-brother-dear voice. "That seems incredibly dull and quite frankly I'm very busy." He turned and indicated the door violently with a pointed finger.

"I don't think so. Intriguing, but you see, the leg work.

When you finish with your," he took a moment to look disgusted with the toes, "feet, I've left the file in the suitcase on your desk. You'll know the passcode, or are you when more stupid than I remember?" smug as ever, he waited for a response that never came and left.

Sherlock sighed deeply.

"You alright?" John asked observing the emotion oh Sherlock's face.

"Did you find it yet?" Sherlock asked conveniently ignoring the question asked.

"What? Oh! YouTube. Yeah it's here." he clicked play and proceeded to shriek with embarrassment and laughter.