The same situations of six different men

We meet the first pair of men promptly at 6 o'clock AM, when, no matter the little amount of sleep he got the night before, Mycroft Holmes rises from his bed. He looks over at the body next to him and sighs. He slowly half smiles then tiptoes to the bathroom to have a very, very quiet shower.

It usually doesn't work, being as quiet as possible. Greg can hear everything; how he does it Mycroft will never know. But he does, he hears Mycroft silently hum along with the water pounding lightly against the shower wall. Greg sits up, smiles, then slips on his pajama pants and goes to the kitchen.

By the time Mycroft's out of the shower, Greg has to pee so badly his bladder hurts. And no matter how deep they are into their relationship, Greg Lestrade has not and will not pee in front of Mycroft Holmes. Just. No.

So while Mycroft's in front of the mirror shaving, Greg lightly knocks the on the door then opens it. "Hey, do you think I could—"

"Can't wait just a second more?"

"I really don't think I can."

"Oh, all right." Mycroft sets his razor down and steps towards the door. He stops for a second in front of Greg, first gazing at his chest then up to his eyes. "Good morning." Mycroft quickly kisses Greg's lips then leaves the bathroom for Greg to do his business.

When Greg's finished he opens the door and Mycroft waltzes back in, picking up his razor and continuing to shave like there was no disturbance. Greg picks up his toothbrush and begins to brush. They continue in the bathroom in a comfortable silence.

After Greg puts his toothbrush down, rinses his face, decides he's not going to shave, he shrugs at his reflection then turns to Mycroft and smiles. He wraps one arm around Mycroft's waste and kisses his cheek.


Mycroft -with a mouth full of mint- nods. Greg smiles once more and leaves the room.

We meet the second pair of men at 7:30 AM, wrapped around one another in a warm silence.

"Sherlock," John whispers, "Let go, I need to shower."

"No. Warm." Sherlock pouts.

"Then get in the shower with me."

"No. Wet." Sherlock pouts more.

John sighs. He tries to pry Sherlock's arm off of him, it doesn't work. "I'll do it."

"You wouldn't."

"I have and I will."

What it is that the men of 221B are referring to and what John has, will, and is doing is tickling Sherlock's sensitive ribs until Sherlock lets go and John slithers out of bed.

"Hey, not fair!" Sherlock shouts at John as John closes the door to the bathroom.

Five minutes later. John's short body is being shoved by Sherlock's tall body in their cramped yet somehow perfectly sized shower.

"I know you only went to sleep about four hours ago, go back to sleep." John says to Sherlock.

"No, I've got a busy day. Much to do. Besides, this will cut down on our water usage."

"What have you got to do today?"

Sherlock squirts the shampoo onto his palm, "We're out of shampoo."

"I just bought this one."

"Well, it's empty. You can hear it. Those awful squirt sounds." Sherlock shudders, "I've got to meet Greg at the station, then I have a lunch with Mycroft, then—"

"You've got a lunch with your brother?"


"Why does that surprise me?"

"We have lunch twice a month."

"Why didn't I know that?"

"You don't pay attention."

"I pay attention to everything you do." John dodged Sherlock's elbow as it flew up to scrub Sherlock's scalp, "Mind your elbow, will ya? Come to think of it, love, did you use my shampoo last week in that experiment—"

"You do pay attention, I'm touched."

John stepped forward toward Sherlock, and then quickly retracted his leg.

"Hey," Sherlock bellows, "Watch your legs. You almost kicked me."

"That was on purpose."

Sherlock glares. John smiles, kisses Sherlock, then steps out of the shower.

"Hand me a towel." Sherlock demands. Two seconds later, a towel crushes against the shower curtain, startling Sherlock and making him jump. "I could have just died!"

"How, exactly?"

"I-I-Oh, shut up."

We meet the second pair of men at 7:55 AM. An alarm beeps on the bedside table and the owner doesn't bother with it. His partner, however, raises an arm and smacks the alarm clock's owner across the back. The owner grunts, then swats the alarm to the floor, hearing it shatter into tiny pieces at his feet.

"Damn it," he whispers before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and side stepping glass that somehow managed to cover the entire this side of the bed. He doesn't bother to clean it up now, he's focused on getting a shower and his teeth brushed before the second occupant of the bed needs the restroom.

He gets to the restroom and stares at himself in the mirror for a few minutes. He yawns, rubs his hand against the day old stubble on his chin, decides he needs to shave -at least his chin- then stretches his eyes and cheeks while mimicking a child's "funny faces" at himself in the mirror.

Then he gets in the shower, slowly and sensually cleaning himself. Of course handing himself is slow and sensual, he's the only person that deserves this behavior. He spends almost twenty minutes in the shower before getting out, being covered by steam in the bathroom. He forgot to turn the fan on, Sebastian hates that, he thinks. Oh well. He shrugs and wipes perspiration off the mirror.

He slowly and sensually shaves, brushes his teeth, carefully washes and moisturizes his face, then opens the door, watching the steam escape the tiny room.

He walks over to the lump on the bed, again avoiding glass, and pokes at the lump.

"Hey, get up," he gets in return a grunt from the lump. "Come on, it's almost 8:45. We've got an appointment at 10."

"Which means I can afford to sleep for an hour longer." Sebastian mumbles into the pillow.

"No, if you get up now, it'll take you half an hour to eat, then ten minutes to shower, and yes you need to shave for this appointment. Big client, Seb. You don't want to disappoint," he gets another grunt in reply, "And wear the suit I bought you last week, please. The blue one, not the black one," another grunt is heard, "And for gods sakes, please get your hair cut tomorrow. You're not in the Army anymore, we have barbers here in England," the loudest grunt is made, "Stop grunting at me."

Sebastian sighs, "Fine, I'll be up in a second, ok?"

"All right." He leaves Sebastian in the bed and goes to the kitchen to begin his breakfast. He hears Sebastian sitting up in bed, then hopes he gets out on his side so he can avoid the glass that hasn't been cleaned up yet.

"JIM!" Sebastian shouts from the bedroom. "How is it that you make me need a cigarette so early in the morning?"

Nope, apparently it was necessary to get out on my side, Jim thinks.

"My feet are bleeding!" Sebastian rubs his eyes with his finger tips, "Perfect." He glances over at the closet and sees the blue suit staring at him. He sighs and falls back on the bed. He stays there until the blood on his feet dries then gets in the shower.

Big client today.