AN: Well here's another Johnlock oneshot that i find myself posting. It's not much but i felt that i had to do it for some reason. I just had to. I came across this picture and i thought that i just needed to write something on that. I don't know. Anyway do read and leave me a comment.

Click Goes The Cube

That day there when John checked the mailbox, he found a little shoebox. There was no name. It was addressed to no one. He guessed that there was only one other person that this could be for. It had to be for Sherlock. He took the stairs back up to their apartment, finding Sherlock seated – curled up – on the couch, still in what one would call his 'day off' clothes – basically his pajamas and his robe.

"Sherlock you've got mail," John said as he put the shoebox on the mahogany wood coffee table before the couch.

At that Sherlock immediately perked up, pulling his robe together as he turned on his side to take the shoebox. He inspected it, the outside was a plain brown of the same colour of grocery bags. The sides and corners were fairly worn, it hadn't passed through many hands. It had to be delivered by hand to their mailbox. Opening it, he pulled out the contents, a three by three cube of varying coloured little squares and a little hand written note.

Sherlock,

Genius that you are, you should be able to solve this Rubik's Cube in seconds.

Jim

He scowled, dumping the note back into the box. Of all things, Jim had given him a Rubik's cube. He studied the coloured cube. He could do this, of course he could. Setting the shoebox back on the coffee table he set to work, moving the columns and rows. All he needed to do was to get all the same coloured squares on the same side. It would be simple.

Click. Click. Click.

John looked up from the morning papers now, staring across at Sherlock who had changed his position from lying on the couch and had joined him by the fireplace, lounging in the cradle of his black leather chair. His long legs dangling over the side of the armrest, he was still dressed in his pajamas. In Sherlock's hands was where the little cube was, the little cube that was producing the clicking sound.

So that's what had been in the shoebox. John guessed that it had to be some form of present or another from Jim no doubt. Moriarty's latest trick in a long line of more to come. Apparently, John thought to himself as he continued watching Sherlock's long slender fingers turning the rows and columns, Sherlock had no idea how it was supposed to be fixed.

"You do know how to fix a Rubik's Cube right?" John asked, listening as the clicking went on before the other answered.

"Used to. I deleted that knowledge from my mind palace a long time back. I didn't think it would be necessary to know such a thing."

John shook his head, "Okay, let me know if you need any help," he said folding the papers up now as he checked the time, the mart down the street should be open, he could get some groceries then come back.

"Sherlock, I'll be going out to the store for awhile," John said pulling on his jacket now, "do you want anything?" he asked.

"Hm? No," Sherlock replied still intrigued with the cube. He needed to solve it!

"Alright. I'll be back soon," John said, leaving their apartment. Sherlock wouldn't be unoccupied that soon.

Once out of the house, he breathed a sigh of relief a morning of hearing the clicking of the cube was enough. Sherlock had better solve that cube when he got back. He took his time with the shopping and headed back to their apartment in the mid afternoon.

Sherlock was nowhere in sight. But John could hear it the clicking of the cube that came from the bathroom. Sherlock had not solved the Rubik's cube yet. Sighing John made his way into the kitchen putting away the groceries. Sherlock must have been alerted by the sound for that's when he called him.

"John? Get me a towel!" Sherlock called from the bathroom as he fiddled with the cube still. He'd been too distracted that he had completely forgotten to take a towel in with him.

Sherlock didn't even look up when John entered the bathroom. John held the towel out to him, sticking his hand into the bathroom. When no one took the towel, John entered the bathroom of his own accord, "You're still at it I see," John muttered as he looked at Sherlock sitting in the tub, back to him, covered in soap suds his black hair sticking to his head, still dripping water. He approached him from behind, dumping the towel over Sherlock's head.

"John! I said give me the towel not dump it on me," Sherlock said, pausing in the conquest of solving the cube for a moment as he took the towel from his head.

"Your hands were busy," John said indicating the cube, "I can solve it for you."

"No," Sherlock said as he pulled himself out of the tub, John already turning to leave the bathroom. "I want to solve it on my own," he said toweling dry as he pulled on a fresh set of clothes, grabbing the cube off the sink now as he drained the tub. Sherlock walked beside John back to the living room now, and John couldn't help but to smile, when Sherlock set his mind to something he wouldn't stop till he had solved it. That was what he liked about the detective.

"I'll get lunch ready," John muttered as Sherlock went back to the couch, sitting there, crossing his legs, engrossed in the puzzle once more. John wondered if this was a way for Jim to take Sherlock's attention away from him.

Lunch was a silent affair. John ate on his own, Sherlock's food left untouched on the coffee table, the Rubik's cube more important than lunch was. He retreated to his room for the rest of the day, deciding to update his blog and also to stay away from the clicking sound.

But the clicking never stopped. Even at night as John got ready to sleep, he thought that maybe Sherlock might stop but he didn't. John lay there in bed, wide awake as the clicking echoed through the house in the silence of the night the sound seemed to be magnified and etched into every corner of his mind. He grabbed his pillow, covering his ears as he turned on his side trying to shut out the incessant clicking of the Rubik's cube.

Morning came with not much of a difference. John had slept in fitful short lengths, the clicking of the cube was always there in the background. He woke up, finding Sherlock already dressed and seated in his black leather chair. They were to go down to one of the crime sites to help Lestrade. In a matter of seconds, John got ready. He wasn't planning to talk to Sherlock much, he needed Sherlock to see that he was irritated with him and that stupid cube. Persistence was one thing but in this minor a matter persistence was turning into a complete factor of irritating.

In the close confines of the cab that they took the clicking was all the more louder. Apparently, Sherlock didn't even notice as he continued ever focused on the irritating little device. John crossed his arms over his chest, trying to shut out the noise. Instead of sitting usually close to Sherlock, he found himself seated closer to the door this time. If the clicking didn't stop soon…

It stopped the moment they pulled up to the crime scene, the tape cordoning off the area. John paid the cabbie, and they stepped out onto the pavement. Sherlock slipped the Rubik's cube into his pocket. For the moment John would be able to enjoy the silence.

The silence was short lived though, for as soon as they were done with the analysing of the case, Sherlock had the cube out again, leaning against the wall as his fingers moved the rows and columns again. Click. Click. Click.

"Is that his new obsession?" Lestrade asked as he came up behind John, watching the detective fiddling with a child's toy.

"Apparently yes. Moriarty had to torture me with that goddamn device and it's irritating clicks," John growled.

"Looks like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed huh. He's been keeping you up all night with that?"

"Yes. I swear he's persistent as ever. If he can't solve it give it up already," John said exasperated.

Later on in the evening when they headed down to Angelo's there was little change. Sherlock didn't order dinner, he simply sat there across John, his mind racing to try to solve the puzzle. So John watched over dinner as Sherlock continued ignoring him, caught up in his own little world with the cube.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" John asked through dinner, noting how Sherlock's blue-grey eyes flicked to his for a moment when he spoke before they went back to the cube.

"I'm not that hungry," Sherlock said but he set down the cube for a moment reaching to take John's fork from him, taking a forkful of the pasta, and eating it. He knew John would worry if he ate nothing at all.

John shook his head, "Sure you don't want more?" he asked, anything if it meant keeping the clicking away and having Sherlock actually pay attention to him.

Sherlock took another forkful, licking his lips to clean the pasta sauce off before he went back to the Rubik's cube once more. John couldn't stop himself as he rolled his eyes. Great. Just great.

They went back to their apartment that evening and John had turned on the television to catch a show. Sherlock had to sit next to him, not that he minded. No he didn't mind that at all. Only if he would stop that stupid incessant noise with the cube. Irritated, John turned the volume up louder but it seemed that wouldn't do the trick because John could still hear the stupid clicks.

"Oh my god!" John cried, "Give me that!" he growled, grabbing the Rubik's cube from Sherlock's hands now, leaving the detective shell-shocked at his sudden outburst.

Sherlock watched in awe as John's fingers moved the vibrantly coloured rows and columns this way and that. Left to right, right to left. Click. Click. Click. He continued to watch in appreciation now as the doctor turned the final row, the Rubik's cube completed. All in all John had completed the Rubik's cube in what was less than five minutes.

"There," John said, tossing the cube back in Sherlock's lap with a smirk as the detective inspected the cube, amazed. John's eyes went back to the television now, the irritating little clicking finally gone from the room. He should have done that earlier if it meant getting peace and quiet.

Sherlock looked from the fixed cube to John and back at the cube. The three by three Rubik's cube sat with a perfect nine coloured panel on each of its six sides. Solved. Who knew that John was secretly such a genius as to solve a cube in less than five minutes. He smiled fondly at John who was now distracted with the television program, John deserved a reward for putting up with him for the past day.

"That," Sherlock said, placing the cube on the table now as he leaned in to John, "that was incredible John," he whispered and kissed the doctor softly on the cheek, "thank you."

And John blushed, a smile on his lips. That was all he had needed to do to gain back Sherlock's attention.

-FIN-