Chapter Text
“Sherlock!” John called “Mycroft refuses to stop calling me because you won't pick up your bloody phone!”
“I’m busy, John!’ Sherlock hollered from the kitchen. His shout immediately followed by several small explosions that make the windows rattle.
“What in the hell could you possibly be doing at three in the morning that is too important to let me sleep?” John called back with his head in his hands.
“Umm… I’m experimenting.” Sherlock yelled up the stairs.
Well, that's fantastic. John thought sarcastically to himself. Well, might as well get up. Not getting any more sleep tonight. Groaning as he stood up, he padded down the stairs to the living room.
“What did Mycroft want?” Sherlock asked, not looking up from the various test tubes and open flames littering the counter.
“Apparently the U.S. has requested that you help them catch a serial killer.”
“Why me though?”
“Not to fan your already large ego, but you are the best there is and the FBI is stumped.”
“Mmm. Boring.” Sherlock responded, leaning against the counter with his fingers steepled under his chin while staring intently at something in a test tube.
“Come on Sherlock. They have already killed 5 people this week !” John pleaded not particularly pleased about having such a serious discussion before 6 in the morning or at least several cups of tea.
“Fine! Tell Mycroft to get us in a few hours. I need to pack.” Sherlock conceding striding across the flat and flopping onto the couch into his thinking pose (leaving the various burners running).
“Right then.” John murmured under his breath. “Am I coming too?” He asked a bit louder.
“I don't see why not,” Mycroft answered from the phone John had all forgotten was on.
“Lovely. When is the flight?” John asked picking up the phone to get the remaining information necessary for the trip as he was not entirely certain it would make the cut for Sherlock's mind palace.
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Trying to get Sherlock on a plane, John discovered, was like herding a very intelligent cat. He kept randomly disappearing in the shops or deducing the life of some poor, random businessman or security personnel which did not bode well for the flight, as the 8-hour ride to New York meant he had to sit still and not annoy people.