John was whistling while walking down the street. The movie was stupid but he had some good laughs with Sarah – regarding the plot. It was about midnight when he reached the house. He wanted to switch the lights on but the light-bulb was burned, obviously. He started climbing the stairs, using the light of his phone.

Somehow he found the way to his bedroom but the switch didn't work there either.

"What the –"

Right at the moment, he was jumped at from behind and pushed on the ground. John wanted to fight back but someone's fist punched his temple so hard his mind started spinning. They kept struggling for a few more minutes with John managing to get up on his feet, when the room enlightened suddenly, making John squeeze his eyes shut.

"I've got you!"

Sherlock materialized in front of him, knocking down a man in a black mask. He gave him one more punch just for sure and quickly tied his wrists and angles with duct tape.

"How was your date, John?" he asked casually while ensuring the tape was tight enough. John kept staring at him.


"The date," Sherlock repeated, getting up. He was in his pyjamas, wearing a dressing gown on top of it. John managed to merely raise an eyebrow. Sherlock looked him up and down.

"Oh, I see. The movie was boring; the popcorn too salty, you didn't stay overnight but the late coffee was nice."

Sherlock walked away with John following him in shock.

"And don't wear the scarf next time, please. Not only it's a good way to get strangled, but the design is obnoxious. I'm sure Sarah seeing it once is enough. Good night, John."

John stopped in the middle of the living room.

"There's an unconscious man in my bedroom," he said, pointing at the door. Sherlock started strumming his violin.

"Don't worry he won't snort, I put tape over his mouth."

"That doesn't matter, I don't want him there," John said angrily. "And who is he in the first place? Why did he want to kill me?"

"He didn't want to kill you, of course," Sherlock said. "You're insignificant. He wanted to get me. Revenge – for putting his brother in jail. So I've done a good deed and sent him to his beloved brother."

Sherlock tightened one string on the violin.

"I thought he'd never come. The waiting was so boring. You didn't have to prolong the coffee so much, John, she wouldn't invite you to her place anyway…"

John blinked.

"Wait… You used me as bait?"

Sherlock looked at him.

"Yes, why?"

Somehow John couldn't find an answer that wouldn't include a punch in the face. He just took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

"Could you please remove the man from my bedroom?" he said silently.

"I'm sorry, but I need to finish this etude while I have it in my head…" Sherlock murmured, writing down some notes on a sheet of paper.

"And John," Sherlock stopped him half the way to his bedroom, "after you get rid of him, a cup of tea would be nice…"

John closed himself in the bedroom, sitting down on his bed and looking at the man on the ground. There were times like this when he was seriously doubting sharing a flat with this completely bizarre creature was a good decision. Despite he was fascinated by Sherlock and his absolute oblivion to his ways of insulting everybody around, he wasn't sure he was tolerant enough to handle it.

The man on the ground moved and groaned and John sighed, rubbing his eyes. Sherlock stuck his head to the door.

"Where's the tea, John?"

John looked up at him, seeing a smile on his face. He got up and went to the kitchen. He must have admitted Sherlock wasn't doing all this on purpose. That was the odd thing. He just was like that. This was his reality and in his reality, telling the hard truth to people's eyes, fighting a masked murderer at night or having body parts in the fridge seemed natural.

"Why are you smirking?" Sherlock asked behind him and John almost jumped up.

"Damn, Sherlock," he uttered, taking the tea tray into the living room. Sherlock was watching him with suspicions. John poured two cups of tea, handing him one. Sherlock thanked but didn't take his eyes off him.

"Something wrong?" he asked and John took a sip.

"No, nothing…"

"You're lying," Sherlock said calmly. John looked up. He saw Sherlock was obviously bothered by that. It seemed funny Sherlock was able to deduce like everything, he could even tell John was lying to him, but he couldn't put it together.

"I'm fine, Sherlock, really. Maybe still a bit… surprised by a murderer in my bedroom."

"Oh…" Sherlock said, evidently relieved. John shook his head lightly. He was sure many more unimaginable things would come in the future with Sherlock. Well, a lot to look forward to.