Wholock

Sherlock sat down on the couch after a long day. He didn't bother closing the door to our flat. Why would he? He's doesn't really care if it's closed or not.

"John?" he called, "Can you move. You're blocking my view of the window." He's so annoying sometimes.

"Why do you need to see out the window? There's nothing out there," I said, walking over to shut the still open door.

"Just waiting for someone."

"A client?"

"Yes. Yes, sure."

I didn't really care at the time. Why should I have? He was just Sherlock being Sherlock. It wasn't a big difference from our ordinary conversations. Oh god how wrong I was.

The next morning, I woke up the sound of Sherlock shouting at the telly. What was he going on about this time? Oh the usual. Someone got something wrong on some crap television show that I really shouldn't have shown him. I walked into the living room at the ungodly hour of 5 am to shut him up. Instead of finding Sherlock in his chair, I found another strange man there. It wasn't anyone I knew. Why the hell was he in our flat watching the telly? I still don't know.

"Who the hell are you?" I said, now fully awake and pondering whether or not to reach for my gun.

"Oh, hello! Did we wake you? Terribly sorry," the man said, rising from his chair with his hands slightly in the air. "Didn't mean for that.'

"Morning, John," Sherlock said, walking in from the kitchen. "I see you met the client I was waiting for."

"This is your client? It's 5 in the morning! Why the hell is he here?" I shouted back.

"Hello, still here," The client said, slightly leaning forward.

"Calm down, John," Sherlock told me almost passively. Calm Down? It was 5 am and there was a stranger in our flat. I wasn't about to calm down. Not even for Sherlock Holmes.

"No! Who is he?" I said, still shouting.

"John, meet John," Sherlock said, gesturing to the client.

"Hello," John said, extending his hand to me. I stare at the hand until he dropped it back to his side.

"He hired me to help find his friends. They've been missing for a couple of weeks and he wanted someone who could actually do detective work to find them," Sherlock stated, sitting down into the chair that the client rose from.

"That's why I went to Scotland Yard first and when they told me they were too busy with 'bigger' things at the moment, I came here," the other John said, smiling at his own little joke. I, myself, couldn't help but smile when I saw Sherlock's face falter as he said that.

"Okay then. That answers who he is but I'm still wondering why the hell he is here this early," I said, wiping the smile off of my face. "And John what?"

"Smith, John Smith," Sherlock said, not making eye contact with anyone.

"And you actually believe that? That is the fakest name I've ever heard!"

"My parents were a bit cruel," John said with a far off look in his eye. Sherlock looked up from his daze at that moment and stood straight up out of his chair.

"John, can I speak to you for a minute? Alone," he asked me. Without an answer from me, he walked right into the kitchen. I looked at John and back to where Sherlock just was and swiftly walked into the kitchen behind him.

"No of course I don't really believe this guy about his name, John. I mean who is actually called John Smith? I just desperately need a case!" Sherlock said at a million miles per hour.

"You have solved three this week alone!" I angrily said but in a hushed voice.

"Yes but I'm bored. And his case seems easy enough. I just have to find two people. I mean how hard could that be?" How hard could that be? The understatement of the century.