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[Sherlock was still asleep, but the sound of John's voice stirred him slightly.]

Humm? what?

"This situation--this entire situation, is completely mental. You realize that, right?" John folds his arms irritably. He's a mess, which is what tends to happen when you sleep fully dressed (sweater and all).

[Sherlock rolls over onto his back now looking flat as a board.]

And what would you have proposed we do instead, hum?

"Well, not this." All right, he didn't have a better plan, but really. People talked enough as it was without Sherlock adding fuel to the fire.

More like throwing petrol on it, actually.

"Do you have any idea what the papers'd say if they got wind of this?"

[Sherlock sighs, annoyed.]

This again? Where did you ever get the idea that I cared?

"When reporters talk to me, d'you know what they keep asking? They want to know how you are in bed." It's incredibly embarrassing and more than a little irritating. Especially when he was trying to ask someone out.

[Sherlock glances over at John giving him "Teh Look" from the corner of his eye.]

Why would they ask you about that?

And this is John giving him his 'are you serious' look. Surely Sherlock can't possibly be that dense...can he? "And then you wonder why I said you were spectacularly ignorant about some things..."

[And this is Sherlock's mocking but serious look.]

First of all, it's none of their business. Secondly, why would you know? Just because we live together? They're idiots.

And John can't come up with a good answer for that. Which he supposes is to be expected. He once said that Sherlock would outlive God trying to get the last word, and he wasn't exaggerating. "You'd make a lousy bedmate anyway. You take up the whole thing."

I also make a lousy flatmate, but that didn't stop you...

[That was sarcasm. Sherlock has an odd sense of humor. Also, what was John saying about getting the last word in?]

He started to laugh softly. "You do, you really do." But there's a fond tone in his voice that admits that he doesn't mind all that much. "Did you really think that the violin and you not talking for days was the worst of it. It didn't occur to you to warn me about shooting the walls or the body bits in the kitchen?"

I'm a detective, I would have thought the body parts would have been expected. And until you brought your gun, I had no way to know I would shoot the wall out...

[John's slight humor goes over Sherlock's head.]

"Um, yeah. Molly works in the mortuary, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't have bodies in her flat." Why does he even try for humor with Sherlock? Or getting in the last word, when he knows it's a lost cause?

If you've never been to her flat, you have no way to know...

"Um, yeah, I think it's a safe bet." Not that Molly would mind having Sherlock over to her flat, John suspected.

[Sherlock shrugged.]

So the tabloids. Is that the only reason you're uncomfortable here?

John glances away, frowning a bit, and making his 'not talking about it' face. "Of course."

Have I ever told you what a pathetic liar you are?

"Quite a few times, actually." And now he's folding his arms and giving his friend the 'Drop it, Sherlock' look.

[Sherlock only drops something if something more interesting comes up.]

And you expect me to believe you this time because.....

"Just drop it, Sherlock." He doesn't want to talk about this, and it's really none of your business.

[He looks over at John.]

You brought it up. What's wrong with two, fully clothed, adults sleeping in close proximity?

"You're not exactly fully clothed." And considering that Sherlock tried to go see the Queen in nothing but a sheet, his opinions on appropriate clothing are a bit suspect.

I'm in a pullover and pants. I could be naked!

[So take that, John. Sherlock is going to pout now.]

Well, at least that got him off the topic of why he'd rather not be here in the first place. "Yes, I suppose I should be grateful." His voice is rather dry, though he never knows how literal Sherlock will be.

Clearly.

[He looks around the hotel room.]

So, now that's out of the way... it's too early.

[Sherlock is going to roll over and go back to sleep. He's not bothered by any of this at all.]

John sighs. "I think I'll go for a run." He tries to stay in shape (you never knew what you'd be up against on one of Sherlock's cases, and it was a habit by now), and he doesn't feel he can sleep any more.

Good, then I can sleep like I'm used to...

[Taking up the whole bed.]

John rolls his eyes and gets up to dress and leave.

At least he could say this much for living with Sherlock: it was never boring.

"Which part of this specifically, doctor?"

Because there are actually multiple ridiculous elements.

"We're being hunted by space aliens who look like statues. Not just any statues, but the...oddly disturbing ones in cemeteries Not how I was planning to spend my Sunday." He was still trying to wrap his brain around the 'there are aliens' part, frankly.