John's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but gave up. Sherlock was moody, probably because he'd been thwarted by his brother. John had no idea what had happened, just that he was in his underpants and a t-shirt after waking up in bed, of all places. He glanced out through the window at the snow. The storm had lulled and plows had been through the streets, making way for some taxis mostly, but it was already threatening to storm again and given the shadows across the street, it was mid afternoon. He confirmed that with a glance to the clock as he trudged into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee, having missed Mycroft's departure and Mrs. Hudson's cleaning of the living room.

Coffee in hand, rare for him as he preferred tea, John made a show of sitting down, still in his dressing gown, and then looked up at Sherlock.

"Are you going to explain what happened last night? I could have sworn that I saw you sitting in a window of a warehouse with someone standing next to you-- But here I am and not in hospital."