A/N: No Beta-Reader. Probably Grammar/Spelling mistakes. No idea about football what so ever. Not slash (this time - though I guess you could see it that way if you really want.) could have killed Gatiss and Moffat for keeping us in the dark about season three. Anyway - Hope you enjoy.

It was a normal bright, quiet spring Saturday at 221B Baker Street. There was no case. No insane consulting criminal out for blood, no murders, kidnappings, robberies. London was as quiet as it would ever be in the criminal sense. Which for Sherlock Holmes translated to - BORING.

He marched around the flat complaining at the top of his lungs that his head was buzzing and he needed a case. Any case. He'd settle for a disappearing family pet if it meant thinking. He just didn't want to be sat indoors while John and the others watching some ridiculous game on the television.

His pleas however fell on the deaf ears of those gathered. John had decided he needed a normal Saturday, the kind he'd been longing for while serving his country. The kind they rarely got in Afghanistan. A nice easy afternoon watching the football with the guys, a few beers and lots of shouting. Where the only person being called an idiot was the ref.

He should have known Sherlock wouldn't leave them to it but he'd hoped he could convince Sherlock to pissed off to morgue for an experiment. Turns out, that wasn't going to happen. - Especially as Molly was there watching the football with the boys, much to all their surprise.

She'd turned up with Mike Stamford wearing an Arsenal top and grinning like a school girl. Turned out there were only two things Molly Hooper loved in life - Sherlock and the Gunners. With Molly at the flat, there was no way Sherlock could vanish off to the hospital, as Molly and Stamford where the only people at St Bartholomew's Hospital that give him the time of day, let alone let him run rough-shot over the place.

The complains continued to come from the kitchen, each followed swiftly by the sound of banging glass and slamming doors. John groaned to himself, pulling his gaze from the screen to roll his eyes at Greg Lestrade, who returned the gesture before taking a swig of his can of Fosters.

"Sherlock!" John yelled in frustration.

The tall detective stomped out of the kitchen like a child. "What!"

"We're trying to watch the game."

Sherlock glanced at the screen, where a grey hair slim man, which the banner at the bottom of the screen tagged Gary Lineker, was talking to the camera before he glanced back to John. "The game hasn't started yet John."

"It's the pre-game analyzes and we're trying to watch it." the ex-army doctor snapped with his usually unused stern military tone.

Sherlock glared at John in that way of his. The one that would make most of the people who'd known him for year uncomfortable, but only resulted in a challenging glare from John. It was one of the things Sherlock liked about his flatmate/colleague/friend, he was never intimidated.

"There is not much to analyze." Sherlock grumbled walking towards them to stopping beside Molly, who sat crossed legs on the floor like a teenager, her adoring gaze lifted to watch the man. He stared at the screen, as states and player information appeared.

John sighed. "Sherlock, I'm giving you full permission to go and do some insanely disgusting experiment. Just leave us alone for a couple of hours."

Sherlock gaze never left the screen.

"Sherlock!" John called, turning to his friends who thankfully where all well aware of Sherlock's infuriating behaviour. It was times like this that John was glad he had no outside friends. Having to explain the consulting detective to someone who didn't know him would be near enough impossible. It had been hard enough covering for the mans behaviour with Sarah. - Which was probably why their relationship hadn't lasted.

Sherlock waved his hand as he continued to stare at the screen as the player walked out onto the pitch and lining up to sing the English and Welsh national anthems. Sherlock smirked to himself, knowing John was getting agitated. Which of course only made Sherlock stay longer. It was never boring irritating John Watson.

John clenched his jaw together painfully, looking at Greg and Mike as if pleading for intervention but they all knew there were really only two people who could make Sherlock do anything and one was currently walking up the stairs.

"Is everything alright? I can make sandwiches?" Mrs. Hudson offered with her usual warm welcoming smile that made them all feel at home.

John sent her a pleading look that shifted to Sherlock for a few seconds. That was all Mrs. Hudson needed. She smiled then patted the younger man on the arms. "Sherlock, have you check that experiment in the basement flat? I'm getting a strange smell wafting through my door at night."

Sherlock waved his hand like he was batting away a fly. "It's fine for another three days."

"Oh Sherlock, the smell." she pleaded, finally getting the man to look at her.

"Fine, fine. - I'll go check on it but it's not ready and I'm not removing it until it is. So I suggest you stock up on air fresheners." he snapped, turning swiftly on his heels and strolling into the kitchen for some supplies and his laptop.

John mouthed his thanks to her.

"I'll keep him busy dear…" the older woman whispered. "…I have a leaky tap and half a carrot cake. He'll be out until at least half time."

"A leaky tap? Sherlock?" Lestrade smirked. "Surely he won't…"

"Of course I will." Sherlock said shocking them all. "I'm not incompetent Lestrade." he snapped, his gaze burning into the man. "I am perfectly capable of mending a leaky tap. - Which apparently is more than can be said for John."

John glared at him. "I fix it."

"Of course you did." Sherlock sighed. "I'm sure its another tap." he turned questioning eyes on Mrs. Hudson who blushed and rushed off, with a smirking Sherlock following behind her. "Oh, by the way…" the detective paused on the threshold. "…Cardiff are going to win 5 - 0."

The three men and one woman's head shot around to stare at him. Wide eye and disbelieving.

"There is no way." Mike said, shaking his head.

"Sherlock…" Greg laughed. "…Cardiff haven't beaten Arsenal since 1927 in the F.A Cup Final."

Sherlock glanced once more at the screen as the camera once again panned across the players.

"You're right." Sherlock nodded, disappointed at himself. "…it'll be 6 - 0." then he left.

Molly's head turned around to stare at the men behind her. "That's impossible right? - Sherlock couldn't know that?" she asked in her sweet soft tone.

Lestrade laughed again. "Of course not. Sherlock's good but he ain't that good. - There's no way he can predict the result." Though the man's voice wasn't sounding all that convincing.

Mike took a drink. "Nah, 6 - 0 to Cardiff? Never."

John looked between his guests, the screen and the door before slouching down in his seat. Leave it to Sherlock Bloody Holmes to take the fun out of football.


They had all been expecting Sherlock to arrive back in the upstairs flat at half time but he'd stayed with Mrs. Hudson until five minutes before the final whistle. When he finally marched into the room, that triumphant smirk all over his face, it was to find four very bewildered and downhearted football fans staring at the TV. Sherlock frowned when they all turned annoyed glares at him. "What?"

Just as the word left his lips the whistle blew and the commentator started announcing the 6 - 0 shock win of Cardiff in their friendly with Arsenal. Sherlock glanced at the screen and sucked in a breath, his chest swelling with pride.

John jumped to his feet, feeling far angrier than was really necessary, but his normal Saturday had been ruined by his less than normal flatmate. "Ok…" he snapped, clenching and un-clenching his fists at his side. "…how the bloody hell did you do it?"

Sherlock frowned, looking around at the equally irritate yet slightly impressed face. - All but John, who was anything but impressed. "What?"

"The scores Sherlock!"

"Oh. Rather obvious really considering." he said nonchalantly strolling into the kitchen.

John took in a deep breath and ground his teeth.

"How?" Molly asked softly, her face a glow with refreshed admiration.

Sherlock came back out to face the stares. "Oh. Simple."

He pulled back his shoulders in preparation for the great revelation of how the worlds only consulting detective could have deduced the football scores and John instantly rolled his eyes and fell into his seat.

Here we go. Why the bloody hell did I even ask. He groaned to himself and Sherlock began.


"Like I said, obvious…" He march in front the telly and switched it off. "… you merely have to observe. There has been rain in London of the last few days which means it would be hard for Arsenal to have had a properly sufficient practice before their match. It hasn't rained in Cardiff for a least a fortnight so their pitch would be dry and solid…"

John groaned again.

"… then there are the players themselves. Though they all look in perfectly good health at least two of them have hangovers after sneaking out last night. One is suffering from a sprained tendon in his left finger. One, huh…Carl Jenkinson has an ingrown toe-nail that he really needs to get checked. Kireran Gibbs had his hair cut two days ago…"

"So?" Greg laughed.

"Which means…" Sherlock groaned at the man's ignorance. "…He's got a new girlfriend, which is distracting his mind. Theo Walcott had injured his hamstring and I'd guess he was taken off on a stretcher after twenty eight minutes. Then there's the fact that at least three members of the squad had sex last night."

"Oh." Molly blushed, looking down at her crossed legs shyly.

"And finally…" Sherlock sighed with a raised chest. "…the new and inexperienced goal keeper, is gay and has a rather obvious crush on the Cardiff striker. - All these things put together made it rather obvious the London team had no chance of winning this match."

Sherlock's lips snapped closed with another 'look at me, I'm a genius, your all morons' smirk before he turned on his heels and headed for the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder. "John, I need to borrow a couple of condoms for my experiment. I can assume that that un-open box is still under your socks."

John dropped his head into his palm and groaned very loudly. He really needed to get his own place. - But life would be so boring without Sherlock.

Boring and Normal.


A/N: This story came to me yesterday out of nowhere. I was just sitting there and suddenly the idea of John and Lestrade football afternoon at 221B being ruined by Sherlock telling them the score. It honestly just hit me and I actually couldn't stop laughing to myself. I pictured all the silly deductions Sherlock would make. I couldn't get it out of my head the whole day, so I decided the only thing to do was write it.

Notes about this chapter:

1) I know nothing about football, so all the information - namely the 1927 F.A Cup Final - was gained from my brothers. So if its wrong, blame him. LOL.

2) I chose Cardiff because of the obvious connection to the show and Arsenal because it's my brothers favourite team.

3) The score 6 - 0? Easy. We've had six episode of Sherlock. :)

4) I do not know who the goal-keeper for Arsenal is, but needed a ridiculous reason for him to be useless, so enter gay crush. (might be my slash-fan girl side seeping though) I did not name the goal keeper for this reason. He is an inexperience new goal-keeper that only exists for this story. Apologies to any Arsenal fans, don't kill me.

5) I have no idea if Carl Jenkinson had an ingrown toe-nail or if Kieran Gibbs has a new girlfriend or if he's even married. And I have no idea if Theo Walcott has injured his hamstring. I made all this up for the story. - Like I said, I know nothing about football. - I barely understand the off side rule. (I think ROFL)

A/N 2: If any of you are hoping for a follow up to IT'LL TAKE MORE THAN THAT. I am thinking really hard to give one to you. But its being a bitch at the moment. If I can find away to it I will. If not, then I'm sorry.

As always Thanks for reading, review and (if you have or will) faving. I try to reply to reviews if at all possible. :D

So that's it from me for another Sherlock story. Season two finale still has me going crazy but to quote my poster. "Stay Calm Cause They're Bringing Back Sherlock" Hopefully see you again soon.