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“AUGH, GOD” Sherlock practically yelled. The flat was, for once, completely clean. Unfortunately for Sherlock, that in turn meant that he had absolutely nothing to do besides sit and watch tele. “John, I need a case.” He paced back and forth, flopping down on the couch when his heels started to feel numb. The flat was silent apart from a dull tap of drizzle hitting the window. “John?”
He glanced around without leaving his hunched spot on the couch. Nothing moved, the flat was still.
“JOHN?” He actually yelled this time, looking around once more. Still, silence. Sherlock pondered for a moment, searching through his past conversations with the other man.
Oh. Right, he’s out with Stamford. He groaned, looking at the clock across the room. 19:30, he’s usually back by 20:00 Sherlock sighed, leaning forward, and placing his palms against his temples. He was so unbelievably bored.
Ugh. He reluctantly got up and moved to the cluttered desk, grabbing his computer. The keys were cool, so was the seat. After emailing Lestrade in hopes he’d send a cold case, he started texting Molly.
When she didn’t answer he shifted in his seat. His body was buzzing with the need to do something. He needed something to do, or he was going to go mad. Everything was so calm and mundane it was sickening.
No, scratch that, he was going mad. Sherlock jumped up and immediately started to make a mess of the desk, throwing books and papers behind him. “WHY IS THERE NOTHING, IM GOING INSANE JOHN, INSANE.”
He slammed his computer shut and whipped his head over at John’s chair. “Oh. Right.”
~
John was ordering a shot from the counter when his phone buzzed against his thigh. He paid it no mind, giving the lady who took his order a thankful smile when she slid the drink across the counter.
He picked up the small glass in front of him and downed it quickly before turning to Stanford. He was about to start another conversation about where they should meet up next, in all honestly John didn’t like this bar in the slightest. It was rather boring and a bit gross. Then he felt his phone buzz again, and again, and then three more times.
He mumbled some incoherent swear about whoever was texting him so late, and so urgently, before turning to Stanford. “I’ll be right back, I gotta answer this.” Stanford nodded, probably too drunk to even understand. He made a mental note to get him a glass of water when he got back.
John walked away from the table, finding a wall to lean on. The wall was a bit sticky from condensation. Okay yeah, this was definitely not his favourite place to be. Standford seemed to take a liking to a couple other regulars though. So, he put up with the uncomfortable chairs and musky atmosphere. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Sherlock-5 messages He sighed and unlocked his phone, the bright light coming from the small screen making his eyes burn a bit after being in a dark bar for so long. Once his eyes calmed down, he was able to make out:
-when will you be home
-I have an emergency
-john.
-I need you here
-EMERGENCY, John. EMERGENCY.
John looked over the messages, deciding whether he thought the messages were actually serious, or if it was just Sherlock being... well, Sherlock. It would be rather nice to see Baker Street right now instead of this, if it were an actual emergency, Mycroft most likely would have been the one to reach over.
He sighed, chalking it up to Sherlock being Sherlock. Peering over at the counter where his friend sat he noticed Stamford looked like he was about to pass out, he himself was a bit tired too.
-coming
John texted back, immediately getting a response from Sherlock. I wonder if this is about a case, or if he just wants me there?
-be quick.
He placed his phone back into his pocket and walked back over to where Stanford was seated. He was chatting with some other guy sat beside him, though the other guy was clearly just humoring him. He decided to put the random stranger out of his misery.
“Alright Mike let’s get you home” John apologized for Stanford’s drunken speech and closed both their tabs. He hailed a cab then handed Mike enough money to get him to his flat and began to walk back. 221B was close enough, only a few blocks away.
He was hoping Stanford wouldn’t fall asleep in the cab, but at this point the only thought going through his mind was whatever Sherlock was begging him to come back for.
~
Sherlock was composing a new piece he was working on when he saw John walk up to the door. He unlocked it rather quickly compared to how he was usually quite slow walking into the house. Sherlock wondered why. He immediately remembered his texts, grinning a bit to himself.
Oh, right, I told him it was an emergency.
Right then he heard John walking up the stairs, a bit slow, but not unmotivated. He was most likely a little buzzed from whatever drinks he had during his little outing.
“Hello John.” He turned around to look John over. His shoulders were damp from the drizzle outside, but he was not wet, and he didn’t seem to be in an overly happy mood. He must have gone to the bar a few blocks away. “I see Stamford picked where you went.”
“Yes, he did- why were you blowing up my phone?” John was keeping eye contact, he always did that. Sherlock didn’t know why; you can only read so much from somebody’s eyes. Like how John was acting confused and annoyed at Sherlock with his face, but judging by his posture and body language he was clearly tired and relieved to be home as opposed to at a bar.
“Sherlock? I'm expecting and answer here.” John removed his coat and hung it up on the coat hanger, right below Sherlock’s. “Hello? Earth to sherlock?”
“OH, yes, right” Sherlock placed his violin down onto the table beside him. “I’m bored.”
“Sorry, bored?” John’s facial expression relaxed a bit.
“Yes. I am bored can you not hear me properly?”
“You made me come all the way home because you were bored?”
“Oh relax, it’s not like you had to walk far, I trust you got Stamford a cab? I am sure he was drunk and his flat is rather far from here.” John scoffed at that, letting a small smile slip past his less than happy façade.
“I’m not even going to ask how you deduced that.” John took his shoes off and slumped down onto the couch. “Sherlock, I had to walk back it was raining” He chuckled a bit while saying raining.
“You didn’t have to walk I'm sure you had enough cash on you for a cab, and it was drizzling. Not raining.” Sherlock corrected, crossing the room while he talked. He sat down directly next to the blonde, a grin mirroring John’s plastered on his face. “Yes, I called you home because I wanted attention.”
John sighed and wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s waist. The motion was weirdly comforting, Sherlock always thought juvenile things like cuddling were just that. Juvenile. But actually experiencing things like it was always nice.
“I would’ve left soon enough, wasn’t having the most riveting time anyway.” John chuckled again, he had a nice laugh.
“I know” Sherlock leaned into John. “Can we play Cluedo?”
John winced. “I love you, but never again. Ask when I haven't just walked home from a sweaty bar in the rain.” He placed a kiss against Sherlocks temple. Suddenly Sherlock’s boredom was gone, maybe some attention was all he needed, he didn’t even correct John when he said rain instead of drizzle.
Attention cures boredom, noted.