The Fire and the Flood- Chapter 1

"BORED!"

"Oh, for Christs-"

John Watson heaved himself out of bed and rushed himself to the living room. Belongings were strewn about the floor and in the middle of them, a grown man dressed fretfully in a blue robe and his pajamas, holding a shotgun in his right hand. John sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Mrs. Hudson isn't going to be happy."

"Ah, being happy. Happy's boring. I was merely entertaining myself. Is that such a crime?"

"It is when you blast a hole in the damned wall!"

Sherlock said nothing, just turned away and flopped on the cluttered belongings.

"Fine, be that way. I'll make coffee, shall I?"

"Please," Came the muffled reply from the floor.

So John shuffled to the kitchen and busied himself while Sherlock eventually got off the floor, threw the gun to the side-

"Hey, be careful with that!"

And returned to his chair to put himself in his "thinking" position, where he placed both his palms together and just barely touched the tips of his fingers to the bottom of his chin, then closed his eyes.

So it was John who found him in this position when he returned to the living room with the steaming mugs of coffee. He carefully set one down on the table next to Sherlock's chair and then, with a final breath, plopped down on his chair and closed his eyes.

"So we have a case today?" John's voice carried about the room

"Hm, maybe not. Lestrade's cases have only proved too easy for me to solve right now. Perhaps if something interesting comes in, but it certainly doesn't look that way right now."

"Well, I'll check my email. Pass the computer." John said a few minutes later.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Well, by my standards, it means that I'm not at ease to pass it right now. So wait."

"You know, most people would say 'I'll give it to you in minute' or 'Just wait, please.'"

"True. But I'm not most people."

John had no argument, for this statement was true.

"Get out."

"What?"

"I said get out."

John let out an agitated sigh, then retorted, "Let me guess. Mind-"

"Palace, yes. Now get out. This may be an important case and a cause for adventure."

John sighed and walked out the door, out of 221B, onto the concrete in front of his flat and watched all of the cars go by, thinking. Thinking about what people thought of him, being kicked out of the flat and sitting on the sidewalk. He spotted one of Sherlock's homeless network people, and he waved gamely. The woman waved back with a knowing smile, for she knew Sherlock's habits and what lengths he would go to get people- even his best friends- out of his way. John trudged back up the stairs, back into his flat, where he saw Sherlock leaning aggressively over his laptop. "Find anything?"

"Actually, yes. Seventeen people showed up to a costume party, seventeen people dropped dead the next day. Cause unknown, obviously. Says that they died 'of their own accord'. Must be murder, probably weaponless. For what cause, I have no clue."

"Then-"

"Scratch that. I have SOME idea of what's going on. I'll need every part of the maintenance crew under lock and key for the time being. I have work to do."

"Alright. How will this fit into our schedules?"

"Well, we'll start the interrogation today, I believe. What day is today?"

"Tuesday."

"Then I suggest you get ready, John, for we have a murder mystery to solve."

Twenty minutes later, they were out the door. Sherlock stalking down the street, John scurrying behind him with all of the intention of solving the crime.