Early Morning is adorkable. I just wanted some cozy friendship-stuff with Sherlock and John and Lestrade.
***
“Inspector?” He turned to find John Watson standing at the bottom of staircase to the second floor, looking sleep-mussed and muzzy in a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. Bare feet seemed strangely incongruous on him, (he wasn’t sure why, but it made Lestrade feel old). “It’s…” His brow furrowed at the watch he wasn’t wearing. “Early.”
Lestrade held up an evidence bag containing a handgun. “I want Sherlock to take a look at this.”
The doctor opened the living room door and waved him in. “Lestrade’s here,” he greeted his flatmate, who was, infuriatingly, curled up with a newspaper in one of the hearthside chairs, about 15 feet from the door. “He’s got something for you. And where’s my watch?”
“No,” Sherlock drawled without looking up. “He’s got an asinine question that completely ignores the point that gun was fired by a middle-aged woman with a vanity complex.”
Lestrade heaved a sigh.
“You also haven’t eaten in near on 36 hours. John, make him some tea before he swoons on our sofa.”
“I’m not your housekeeper,” John sniped, but he padded on into the kitchen to turn on the kettle. The gun crashed through Sherlock’s newspaper into his lap and Lestrade dropped into John’s favorite chair. When he glances up, he finds John evaluating him with a stare as piercing as Sherlock’s. “You should stay for breakfast.” It’s not a suggestion.
Sherlock sniggers.
“Shut up,” John tells him in the same voice.
“Do stay,” Sherlock declaims, tearing into the back like it’s his Christmas present. He’s obviously bored again. Lestrade makes a note to find him a case before he goes out and makes one again. “He can force-feed someone else for a change.”
***
It carries on like that. It’s all just dopey early morning banter before any of them are really awake. I never finished it because really it doesn’t have anywhere to go.