BEFORE
John awoke the next morning, thankfully, to a clean kitchen. He sighed in great relief and wondered what he would do if Mrs Hudson weren't here.
Sherlock was already awake, and he was sitting silently at the kitchen table drink his coffee. He showed no interest in Johns appearance in the doorway.
"Morning," John offered.
He received only a grunt from his stubborn counterpart.
"Yes, I'm feeling fine thanks for asking," John mumbled as he took the seat across from Sherlock.
"I didn't," came a sudden response.
"What?" John asked confused.
"I- I didn't ask you anything," Sherlocks entranced look at the swirling liquid in the mug was broken as he glanced at John.
John chuckled. Sherlock was so clueless. "I know you didn't," he smiled.
"Then... why...-" Sherlock gave up with the oddness of human behavior and returned to swirling his cup.
"Is there an eye in there?" John leaned over the table to take a look.
Now Sherlock laughed. "No, but I must admit it really wasn't half bad with the eye."
"I'm sure it was delectable," John said, "at least as good as anything you could cook."
Sherlock frowned at the smug looking John. "I'm not that bad."
"After what happened yesterday?" John defended, "I beg to differ."
"It was an experiment!" Sherlock protested. "I'll cook you something tonight to prove it."
"I'll call the fire department in advance."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows as to challenge his opponent, then abruptly stood up and went I his chair in the living room.
John smiled to himself, and mentally prepared for what he assumed was going to be a hectic night.
AFTER
"Sherlock," came a muffled voice from outside his room, "you need to eat something."
Mrs Hudson tried continuously to get Sherlock up and about, but he was reluctant. Not only did Sherlock stay in the apartment, he often resided to his room, and, even though it had been weeks, rarely spoke.
But today would be different.
The door handle twisted and Sherlock slowly emerged, startling Mrs Hudson.
"Oh darling you look awful," she breathed, "sit down I'll make you a cup a' tea."
"I'm fine thanks" Sherlock groaned.
"Well then," Mrs Hudson hesitated, "I'll leave you be. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
With a nod of her head she left the room and Sherlock glanced at his coat that was draped over the chair. He picked it up for the first time in days and decided to get fresh air.
This idea had not surfaced his mind since John had died, and he wasn't sure he was all that ready to face the world. But nonetheless, he got dressed and dragged his feet down the steps of 221B.
On the street, the air was cool and a rushing wind blew Sherlocks coat back. He shook his coat and popped up the collar.
"turning your coat collar up so you look cool" came a voice in his head. Johns voice. He cringed and shook himself back into reality, and headed down the chilly street, his destination unknown.
