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John walked into the kitchen of his shared flat with Sherlock, stopping dead in his tracks and doing a double take. "Sherlock... What is this?" John asked, examining what looked like a small movie set.
"I'm turning one of my stories into a motion picture." Sherlock said steadily, moving a potato and snapping a picture.
"You wrote a story?" John asked increadulously. "No, no, that's beside the point. Why are you doing this in th- does that potato have a wig?" John pointed to the potato, that seemed to have a brunette wig, just as Sherlock move it again.
"Yes." Sherlock answered simply, pointing to a book sitting on the counter. "Go ahead and read it."
John took the book suspiciously, opening it to a random page. He blinked, letting out a nasal laugh. "'We aren't dealing with a suicide,' Spudlock glanced at the broken celery. 'This is murder.'" John read aloud, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
Sherlock grinned a toothy grin that sent shivers down John's spine. "Turn to page ninety-four. Read the first thing in quotations."
John did as told. "'Shut up Andertato, you'll lower the IQ of the whole shelf!' Spudlock snapped." John raised an eyebrow. "Really Sherlock?"
"Yes. You come in on the last page."
Curious, John flipped to the last page. "'My name is Spud,' he shifted slightly. 'Spud Watson.'" John made a slightly choked sound. "Really Sherlock? You couldn't have been more creative?"
"The next book focuses on Spud." Sherlock said, as if that made things better, standing straight and grabbing his camera. "I'm going to go add the voices. I'll need you in six hours."
John watched incredulously as Sherlock disappeared into his room.