5 Times Sherlock Eavesdropped On John's Phone Calls, and 1 Time He Didn't Have To

1. The Flat

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock. Can't you go a day without blowing up half the bloody flat?!"

John exclaimed as he fanned away the smoke seeping from the kitchen. He covered his ears slightly as he smacked at the wailing smoke alarm. Sherlock simply shrugged and made no attempt to restore the damage he'd caused to the dining area. Rolling his eyes, John silenced the alarm and huffed back into the living room. Sherlock was sat in his usual chair, hands together at his mouth, eyes fixated in front of him, his usual thinking stance. There'd be no sense out of him for a few hours at least. John sighed and made his way over to the couch, grabbing a discarded newspaper from the table as he went.

"Page five, column two. Thought you might be interested."

Sherlock stated, still unmoving. John flipped to the requested page and frowned as he read the headline.

"Flat to let, two bedrooms, spacious, central London...and why would I be interested in this?"

John asked, looking up confusedly at Sherlock, who gave a mockingly deep frown.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I could have sworn I overheard you and Sarah talking about looking for your own place, preferably in the centre of London, it's still early days in your relationship so you shouldn't need more than two bedrooms unless there's something you're not telling me. Should I expect a happy announcement anytime soon?"

Sherlock spat in a harsh tone as he glared pointedly at John. He slammed his hands down on the arms of his chair.

"Or the pitter patter of tiny feet?"

He asked. His voice was composed and indifferent, but John could tell he was...upset?

/No./ He thought with an internal laugh. /Why would Sherlock be bother getting emotional over something he didn't even have confirmation for?/

John sighed again and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Trust Sherlock to overhear the one conversation in which John humoured Sarah's proposition of moving in together. Although, he thought, knowing Sherlock, he'd probably heard the rest of them too.

"Sarah and I are not moving in together, Sherlock. Maybe you'd know that if you actually spoke to me instead of listening to my private phone calls and making your own assumptions."

Sherlock scoffed and gave John and incredulous look, shaking his head slightly at Johns statement. John rolled his eyes again as he rose from the couch.

"I'm going to Sarah's. Don't sell my part of the flat while I'm gone."

Sherlocks glare followed John around the room as he gathered he coat and pointedly grabbed his keys, and didn't retreat until John was out the door. Sherlock let a small smile creep onto his face, because even though he'd annoyed him, Sherlock knew John would be coming back home tonight. He stood up and made his way over to the window, watching John walk down the street through the curtain until his disappeared from sight. The smell of smoke brought his attention back to the disaster that used to be the kitchen table, and he turned to observe it with a sigh. Mrs Hudson was not going to be happy about this, and he knew he'd let himself in for another lecture on tenant etiquette.

/Dull. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it./

He gave the table one last fleeting look, then flopped down onto the couch with a sigh, letting the thoughts itching to be attended to flood his mind.