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It started with a flat stone that fit easily in his palm that had been smoothed down by a river.
John had found it sitting on the table next to his chair. He ran his fingers over it, holding it in his hand until it was the same temperature as his skin.
He hadn't questioned it's appearance, small things like that were always popping up around the flat. John recalled finding a pocket watch in the shower once, to say nothing of the various bodily bits and pieces he found about their home. John protested this no matter how "meticulously sealed" their containers were.
However John reached a point when he was starting to get rather perplexed about the pebbles and stones. He found several other small stones around the flat, but then they stopped being the grey or blue ones.
He found a polished red stone in the cupboard once, next to his favorite mug. He asked a colleague about it at work who was into geology and he identified it as Jasper. He simply added it to the small collection on top of his dresser.
He meant to ask Sherlock about it, but something always seemed to come up and he'd forget. They didn't appear often enough for him to remember.
Weeks passed: Sugilite in one of his shoes left in the living room. Lapis Lazuli in the shower next to his shampoo. Malachite on the mantel by the skull. Yellow Turquoise, Obsidian, Russian Jade.
It got to the point where John's colleague asked if he had gotten a new hobby, and John shook his head, saying he simply came across them while on walks.
They got more obvious after that, John found one in his coat pocket (polished fluorite). He realized of course that they had to be from Sherlock. Perhaps some kind of experiment? Maybe he was waiting for John to ask about them, at which point the detective would go one about the importance of being able to identify types of stones for cases.
After five months he got to the point where he didn't want to ask Sherlock, and even when he started to wonder when and where he would find the next one.
Only after that they stopped. One day while John was going about straightening the flat, Sherlock off doing something or another at Bart's, he found himself actively searching for a stone. Just one, it had been a few weeks. He wondered why Sherlock had stopped the game with the stones, what had changed?
While searching he accidentally knocked down a small bunch of books from the desk. He swore, picking them up. They covered various topics, Sherlock no doubt looking for pertinent information to store in that mind palace of his in the event that it pop up.
He was picking up one of the books when he saw a dog-eared page. The book itself was about arctic animals, the creased page was about the Adelie penguins. John furrowed his brow a little, scanning down the page when something caught his eye.
"The giving of pebbles by the male is part of the nesting courtship."
John's eyes widened a little, no...that couldn't be it. Could it?
He was careful to put the books back as he found them, making his way upstairs to his bedroom, looking at the collection of stones on his dresser, sitting on his bed to think.
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Sherlock ended up coming home to the flat late that evening, and John was sitting in his chair reading a book by the time the detective ascended the stairs. He muttered something towards John about his case and moved down the hall towards his room after hanging up his coat and scarf.
The detective simply went back to his room and changed out of his clothes, throwing on some pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that had small holes in it from acid splatters.
Sherlock flopped down onto his bed in an ungraceful manner, laying on his stomach as he tucked one of his arms under his pillow and rested his head down on it. He blinked his eyes open, feeling something hard and smooth there.
He sat up, bringing his hand out from under his pillow to see the smooth glossy stone sitting in his palm, blue and green showing through the translucent stone. "Mexican Fire Opal." he said softly, forehead creased slightly.
He looked up then to see John leaning against the door frame to his room, arms folded with a soft smile on his face.
Sherlock's long fingers wrapped around the opal, the corners of his mouth turning up to match the smile given to him by his blogger.