The Address is 221B Baker Street: October

Sherlock was, extremely thoughtfully mind you, making tea. He reached up for the box of tea bags and a sharp stab of pain from his presumably not-entirely-healed wound caused him to make a small noise. A small noise, it should be noted. John, however, apparently had the hearing of – well – something that could hear extraordinarily well; a dog, perhaps? Definitely an entry worthy of deletion until this moment.

In any case, Sherlock abruptly found himself no longer extremely thoughtfully making tea but sat down and fussed at.

It felt as if John had been fussing at him for days on end.

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