Chapter 6

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Once the (what seemed to be) dreadfully long cab ride was over, John paid the cab driver and the two went out of the vehicle. Making their way up the stairs of the building and into their flat.

Usually Fridays ended in one of two possible ways. Either John was lucky enough to find someone by the end of the week that would go out with him, or him and Sherlock would unwind in their chairs drinking tea and talking of their week. Personally Sherlock liked the second option better, it can tend to be boring sometimes being alone in the flat for too long.

John as well thought the second option was better, but he thought it would bother Sherlock that he was always with him. He looked forward to those occasional Fridays though because he felt like he could be with just Sherlock. He wouldn't be constantly cut off when someone was in the room or when Sherlock had a break through in a case. But he had to put up with those bad dates because he understood if Sherlock needed some space to do his experiments or whatever he does in his mind palace.

Just like clockwork, Sherlock went to his chair and John went to put the kettle on. But with this whole game or what Sherlock believes is a game of sorts still in place, there's an odd stillness in the air.

Sherlock watched as John sat on one of the stools in the kitchen. Both of them waiting.

For John he was waiting for the tea to be ready. But mostly waiting for Sherlock to end this odd game, it felt more like a test of sorts.

Sherlock was waiting for when his friend, his wonderful, yet incredibly thick headed friend would realize that he was the reason why he was doing this embarrassing idea.

The kettle whistled sharply, bringing the two of them back to their senses.

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