This story was entirely inspired by Shoresh's excellent fanart/story idea on tumblr.

shoreshroot on tumblr.

You should all visit her post as this story is not half as glorious and fluffy as that piece.

"It can't wait until the morning, John!"

Even though, John Watson had heard these words on a constant repeat, frequently used to justify any ridiculous, momentary need of Sherlock, his routine never changed from the usual nod, a large [mostly dramatic] sigh and the promise to follow regardless.

That same routine had lead them both to working over time in the labs of Barts' Hospital. Their case that evening; the death of a travel agent.

An unlikely suspicious case at first glance, until you account for the fact that the agent's death was the eighth that week. Sherlock, hunched over a microscope, had barely spoken a word to John in the entire fifty minutes they were there. The blissful quiet of humming machines and Sherlock's muttering lulled John into a unexpected sleep. Till the later subject who thumped his hands victoriously on the desk woke him up again.

"What...what?" John muttered distractedly.

"Polymer adhesive, John. The same substance from the agent's kitchen."

"Polymer...what?" John rubbed his eyes roughly until a surprise third figure emerged in his sight.

"Evening, Molly." He spotted the pathologist, near the back of the lab, busying herself with a stack of reports.

"Oh morning. Late night was it?" Molly joked cheerfully. John glanced towards the clock behind her head. Bit too cheerful for four o'clock in the morning.

Rubbing out a crick from his neck, John shook his head towards Sherlock in a silent explanation. "Sort of. Hasn't ended yet."

Sherlock, seemingly unaware of the conversation happening around him, called out to Molly just as she gave John a tiny smile.

"Coffee would be wonderful, Molly." He said without removing his eyes from the microscope.

"Oh okay, yes." She answered back flustered. "I'll...I'll be back..."

"Lovely." John sarcastically muttered as the lab doors closed behind her.

"Hmm?"

"You know, Sherlock. She's not your housekeeper either."

"I only saved her the trouble of asking. Which she would have so done." He paused, talking rapidly under his breath. "Polymer adhesive..."

"Isn't that just glue? So she had glue all over her clothes."

"No, of course it's more than that!"

Molly returned, two cups balanced on a stack of books in one hand. Placing the cups down, she turned expectantly to Sherlock but only received a grateful smile from his partner.

"I've still got your tests from last week, the old cultures."

"Hmm." Again, a non-response from Sherlock.

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock, as Molly gave a dejected shrug before awkwardly walking back towards her office.

"What?"

"I said nothing."

"You rolled your eyes."

"How could...you weren't even looking at me."

"Honestly John. You do it so often, I've grown accustomed to the sound." Sherlock slammed his hands frustratedly onto the lab top. "Why would she have so much on her clothes!"

"Maybe she was into arts and crafts."

"John."

"You know, scrap booking." John was quickly silenced by Sherlock's cold glare. Obviously not a morning person either.

"That sample also contained silicon dioxide. Rather odd." They both turned towards the unexpected voice, as Molly re-entered the lab. She tried not to fluster under their confused faces as she read from the report in her hand.

"You don't usually find that in glue...or in central London. Probably only find it in..."

"Oh well done, John!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed, interrupting Molly in mid sentence. The detective bounced right out of his chair, before striding towards the exit, coat already in hand. "Of course!"

"What? well no, wasn't me...it was..." John scrambled to get up from his chair, while Molly stood dazed at Sherlock's reaction.

"You better call Lestrade quickly. I doubt he'll feel too upset about the early wake up call with this news." Sherlock, with a very smug smirk, exited the lab, leaving behind a very befuddled John and Molly.

"Sorry. I don't know why..." John said, shaking his head.

"No, it's okay." She spoke too quickly, no doubt trying to cover for Sherlock's indiscretion. "I don't mind, really."

"You sure?"

This time, her smile stretched uncomfortably over her face. "Yeah, you better go. He probably thinks.."

"That I'm right behind him, yeah. Err, thanks for the coffee."

John looked back to the clock again, the big hand barely passing by five. He was sitting on Inspector Lestrade's sofa in his office, secretly thanking the Inspector's wife for making the furniture piece an obvious necessity these past years. With sleepy eyes, he watched Sherlock and Lestrade 'talk'.

"So you called in because our dead body was covered in...glue. Really, Sherlock. My priorities and when I say mine, I mean mine, not yours, are not at all in sync!"

"Not glue, Inspector. Common mistake. Obviously the glue is more significant than that. All her clothing, her hands were covered in this specialized substance, it's not a coincidence!"

"I don't know. Could be scrapbooker." Lestrade casually remarked. John looked up worriedly and rightly so as Sherlock's face fell into a dark scowl.

"Are you being purposefully blind?"

"Well, what else did you find?" Lestrade turned to John, as Sherlock huffed, his hands thrown angrily into his pockets before retreating over to the office window.

"Ahh..silicon dioxide." John said, reading off his notebook.

"Silicon what?"

"Silicon dioxide." Sherlock called from the window in a irritated tone. "You would know it as...oh yes." Then suddenly, his face transformed, eyes widen with a joy John knew as Sherlock's "gotcha" glee.

"What, Sherlock?" Lestrade tried to ask but the detective already had his phone out, fingers rapidly flying over it, laughing quietly to himself.

"I'll have your answer by this evening, Inspector." Sherlock answered nonchalantly, walking out of the office, straightening up his coat as he went.

"Have what? Sherlock!"

The detective pulled his head back into the office, only to yell out "Sand!"

Somewhere between Huston Road and Baker Street, John lost Sherlock. He dismissed John in the morning after they left Scotland Yard. Barely mentioning where he was going, he sent John home with the promise that he would return that afternoon.

That was at eight o'clock.

By that afternoon, John gave up on sending relaxed texts and had already begun his panic as Sherlock had yet to reply to a single one.

Till half past six. Vatican Cameos.

"Shit!" The good doctor yelled, leaping out of his chair before rushing out of the flat.

"By the docks? You serious? Wait, Molly? Right, no I'll be there soon. Thanks." John, quickly ending his call with Lestrade, sprinted off the street towards a free cab. He'd been wandering around London, worried sick of what might have happen to Sherlock until the Inspector called up, informing him that their consulting detective had been found in an old factory off the docks. Kidnapped and drugged and apparently, rudely refusing all medical assistance.

As soon as the cab hit the curb, John ran out straight into the docks. The wharf was littered with police cars, vans but John soon spotted the Inspector, leaning against a police car...with Molly.

The two of them looked up in relief at the sight of John.

"Good timing. Our friend's getting restless." Lestrade said humorlessly, pointing towards the back of an ambulance, were indeed sat a disgruntled detective, wrapped up in a red blanket.

Sherlock looked up, unfazed to see John run up to him, all flushed and puffed.

"Ah John, excellent. The polymer adhesive, rare kind because it is only used in the manufacturing of passports. The travel agent was involved in an illegal mass production of British passports within this very factory."

"Are you alright?" John scanned his friend impatiently, purposely ignoring Sherlock's speech. Few scratches on his face, only one fresh scar, hidden between the gap of his nose and cheek.

"Of course I am." Sherlock said almost in offence.

John let go of a tired laugh in relief. "You don't look it."

"Nonsense. I was only injected with a slightly heavy sedative. Nothing to fawn over...oh, wonderful. Another blanket."

John gave thanks to the medic, Sherlock, choosing instead to glare, muttered angrily, "Look, I'm not in shock. I'm fine."

"How did you find me?"

"What?"

"I was sure we were untraceable from the moment I sent that text. They took my phone."

"Err, I didn't." Sherlock followed John as he pointed over towards the police car. "Molly did."

"Molly?"

"Yeah, she was the one who called up Lestrade. Apparently she just knew that this would be the place to find you."

"I don't...I don't..." John was surprised to see Sherlock stumble over his words, his mouth opening and closing awkwardly in a very un-Sherlock fashion.

"Yeah, well I don't know much but Lestrade said she worked out where they were working too..."

"The silicon dioxide." Sherlock interrupted him abruptly.

"What?" But John was ignored as Sherlock gazed over, his eyes still glued onto the pathologist, clutching her blue coat as she chatted with the Inspector.

"Right. He's alright to go then?" John called out to the medic, slightly uncertain of his friend's condition, considering the fact that Sherlock had yet to look away from the police car and was now staring openly at Lestrade and Molly with a very odd expression.

John helped his friend up and they walked towards the road, where the black cab awaited them. It appeared to John that Sherlock wasn't even aware that they had left the docks, until finally he shook his head out its thoughts, his previous dazed face now replaced by the usual cool one.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Yes. Don't ask me again."

John pull his hands up in fake defence, relaxing into the seat at Sherlock's sharp tone. He's back normal now, thank god.

But as the cabbie sped off onto the main road, John swore he saw his friend mouthed something quietly to himself before turning away to smirk out the window.

"Silicon dioxide..." John caught the end of the impressed whisper.

Back to normal? Perhaps not.