The Game is On

~So hey guys! I'm starting a real, full-length Johnlock fanfiction this time ;) Not sure how I feel about it, so please if you like it comment and give me ideas, suggestions, feedback, etc.! It helps me to know whether or not my readers enjoy! Hope you do, Garnent~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a room. A cluttered room. Things were strewn across the floor, the shelves were in disarray, and the kitchen table (and entire cooking area for that matter) had been turned into a lab. In the centre of the room, there were two armchairs. One was swamp-green in colour and was made of leather, a long black trench coat laid across the seat back. The other was wider, a rusty red colour and made of soft fabric. A checkered blanket laid across its back.

On the chair's right arm was a half-empty cup of tea. On the chair itself sat Dr. John Watson, deep in thought. It was nearly 11:30 AM, but the doctor remained in pajamas and a housecoat.

A sudden loud shuffling from upstairs was what stirred John from his thoughts. He looked over at the doorway as it swung open, revealing his equally pajama-clad flatmate.

"You're up early," John commented. Sherlock squeezed his eyes tightly together, only to open them again and blink to bring them back to focus. "I suppose I am."

"Would you like a cuppa? There's some tea left in the pot, but I gather it'll be cold by now..." John trailed off, noticing for the first time how tired the detective looked. He leaned forward ever so slightly, allowing his curly raven hair to fall over his barely-open eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" John finally asked after a long pause. "Not at all," Sherlock stood up straight, abruptly enough to bring his hair out of his eyes. The tall man strode quietly over to the couch and slouched down on it, closing his eyes. After a moment, John pressed on; "Why not?" The doctor couldn't think of anything that would keep Sherlock awake. They had been case-less for nearly a week, and Sherlock was so bored he would almost fall asleep while standing up.

"Research."

"On what? We don't even have a case," John found himself letting out a familiar noise: An exasperated sigh.

"Oh, John, you really can be dull," the detective stood, untying his blue housecoat, "I'm looking FOR a case. I'm so bored now I could put a bullet in the wall."

"Please don't do that again," John started, "Lestrade will find you if there's a case. You needn't look for one yourself."

"Why not, Watson? What else is there to do around here?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe try talking to your flatmate? Having a conversation?" The doctor, again, sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Good God why did I even ask you," Sherlock, still standing, had his housecoat at his feet and was proceeding to remove his gray t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" John tightened his lips together as he watched the detective remove his clothing.

"Whatever do you mean Watson?" Sherlock stopped, holding the t-shirt in his hand.

"You're... Undressing." John specified.

"Well it would seem appropriate for me to get into something more fitting for the day," the detective said matter-of-factly.

John looked to the side and leaned back again, "Sure, but must you change in the sitting room?"

"I don't see why not," Sherlock grabbed the waistline of his pajama bottoms, ready to remove them.

"Ah--" John held up a hand to stop him, "Are you aware of my presence, Sherlock?"

"Yes, Watson."

"And you don't care?"

"No Watson."

"Well, what clothes do you plan to change in to?" John quickly searched for reasons to make Sherlock change elsewhere.

"Oh, you make a point. They remain in my bedroom. I suppose I shall have to change there after all."

As the detective left the room, John let out another sigh. But this time, a sigh of relief. Earlier that year he had found out the hard way that Sherlock sleeps without any underwear on, and the doctor wasn't sure how he would react to being in the same room with his nude flatmate.

"Actually John," Sherlock popped his head in the room again, "I'm going to have a shower."

"Okay, you don't have to ask permission," John gestured toward the bathroom.

Once John heard the water running, he decided he may as well get dressed too. The doctor finished off his tea and stood up, heading to his bedroom. He changed into his black jumper, the one with red-and-white zigzag patterns around the collar. He paired it with basic grey pants.

Since the running-water sound had ceased, John assumed Sherlock had finished. He headed over to the bathroom, turning the corner and nearly crashing right into a tall object.

A stark-naked Sherlock Holmes kind of object.