[for needsdanger] ❝ i love the silence; yeah the silence is killing me. ❞

[ofdeduction]

The only problem with Sherlock being so orientated towards his work? He was bored easily when there was no work. Except he couldn't find the gun to shoot the wall again, so he figured John stashed it somewhere. He gave way to sulking about the flat and eventually settling on the couch and curling up as he tried to occupy his mind with something

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[needsdanger]

John had just got home from his shift at the clinic and trudged up the stairs tiredly. The first thing he noticed about the flat when he walked in was that it was...suspiciously silent.

At least that meant Sherlock hadn't found where John had hid his gun. That or he'd already fired all of John's bullets into the wall.

He found the detective curled up on the sofa, pouting unmistakably...in much the same position he'd been in before John left eight bloody hours ago. "So, I see you've been productive today."

[ofdeduction]

"I said 'I'm bored.'" he replied. Sherlock lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at his flatmate/friend/colleague. Oh, he'd gone to the clinic?

Sherlock suddenly sat up. "What day is it?"

[needsdanger]

"I didn't hear you. I've been at work," he replied, taking a seat in an armchair across from the sofa.

"It's tuesday," he added, at Sherlock's question. "Was there something you needed to do?" He assumed Sherlock didn't have a new case, or he wouldn't be sitting there in his pyjamas.

[ofdeduction]

"No." he said flatly, disheartened by the idea. "Just needed to know the day that way I knew why you were at the clinic." Bloody five days a week nine-to-five jobs.

He sighed and rolled over, stretching out on the sofa. He ran his hands down his face as he tried to go through the things he could do. All the interesting cases were solved - including that one about the missing cat.

"Are you hungry?"