“I try my best not to,” John quipped, hands on his hips as he tried to deduce what it was Sherlock was on about. The answer did not come to him at first, nor at second, and he rubbed his eyebrow with a growing annoyance. The city was fairly good with clearing away the snow, especially around Reagent’s Park, but they wouldn’t be out for hours, even days. Without being able to really get much news, all John had to go on was the reports from that morning stating that there could well be several days of this mess.

The prospect of spending days like this with Sherlock was intensely unpleasant.

He pressed his lips together and skirted around the majority of the collection, heading instead towards the back of the living area. He never sat on this couch, considering how long Sherlock often would lie there without moving for days, but he did stand back by it to get a better picture of what was going on.

He had such terrible luck.

“You’re going to starve us, completely ruin the carpet, again I might add, and put a terrible stink to the wallpaper. Help me throw this out.” Or at least stand aside, Sherlock. John never really expected help with tidiness.