Heads up...

The is Part 2 of The Blonde, so if you haven't read the first part just know there will be some references to scenes from that part.

Amy, Rory, and the Doctor are prominent characters, but this is a Rose/Sherlock fic. :)

The M rating is for gory stuffs and maybe laters.

John opened the door and stepped into the flat, struggling with two bags of groceries. Sherlock was sitting in his chair using…John squinted…his own laptop, which meant…Rose stepped out of the kitchen…yep, just as he thought.

"Here, let me help," she said, hurrying over and taking one of the bags.

"Thanks," John said, closing the door and then shooting his flatmate a glare. "At least someone around here doesn't mind helping out."

"I help out," Sherlock said, glancing up from his laptop.

"When?"

"I purchased a new pan the other day."

"You mean you replaced the pan you ruined doing one of your experiments."

"I wouldn't have ruined it if you'd set the timer."

"We don't have a timer."

"Yes we do. I used it last month when…" he trailed off, turning his attention back to the screen.

"When you what?" John asked, but Sherlock ignored him.

"Are the eggs in there?" Rose called.

John realized he was still holding the other bag of groceries. He turned his attention from his flatmate and walked into the kitchen, setting the bag on the table.

"You know he doesn't think about things like that," she said.

"Yes, he does, he's just lazy," John quipped.

"Well, there's that too," she replied with a laugh.

He chuckled, his sour mood diminishing. She was very good at that sort of thing, which was one of the reasons he liked her so much. She'd been renting the basement flat in their building for a little over a month. Ever since she appeared in theirs seemingly out of nowhere, though if she was to be believed she came from a parallel Earth.

John shook his head. He liked her, but he just couldn't make himself believe her story. He wanted to, mainly because besides all her talk about parallel worlds and space ships she was pretty down to earth. Sherlock, on the other hand, had fallen for, not only her story, but her as well. Smitten. That's what he was, which was completely don't think alien, don't think alien.

Rose opened the refrigerator as he handed her the milk, but instead of taking it she leaned down and pulled something out. A bag. He could see blood in the bag and something else…fingers? Toes? Most women would've gasped, screamed, or, in the least, closed the door. Instead she rolled her eyes.

"Sherlock!" she called.

"Yes?" he said from the other room.

"And this is?"

John heard him stand up and cross the room. A moment later he stepped into the kitchen.

"Oh…index fingers. Got them from Molly yesterday."

"Index fingers?"

She glanced at the bag and then back at him.

"For an experiment," the detective replied.

"And why aren't they in the drawer?" she asked.

"I told you there wasn't room. That's where the toes are."

Toes? Well, he'd definitely stay out of that drawer.

"And when did we have this talk?" She asked, one hand going to her hip.

"Yesterday."

"When yesterday?"

"I can't be expected to remember that." She eyed him. "Sometime between two and four."

"I wasn't here until six," she pointed out.

"It's hardly my fault you weren't listening," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"You're doing it again."

John stifled a laugh. Not a typical quarrel between two people in a relationship, but typical in this relationship.

"What?" he asked, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Being rude," she snapped.

"Well, it's not," he replied, folding his arms in that childish manner.

She opened the drawer, the one containing the toes and slid the bag back. Then she added the bag of index fingers.

"There's enough room for both of them."

"You can't put the fingers and toes in the same drawer," Sherlock argued, crossing the room toward her.

"Why not?" she asked, turning to face him.

"I might grab the wrong bag."

John shook his head as he put the dry groceries away.

"You could try looking at them."

"That takes time. What if I don't have time?"

John glanced at her. She rolled her eyes.

"You're doing it again," Sherlock pointed out, literally, with his finger.

"Doing what?" she asked.

This was escalating. If it kept up John would have to put a stop to it before it turned into…well, something he really didn't want to see…again.

"Rolling your eyes, which usually implies I'm annoying you," Sherlock snapped, stepping toward her.

"You are annoying me," she said, leaning forward.

"Well, that annoys me."

"Why don't you label them?" John suggested.

They both looked at him.

"Labels are boring," Sherlock dismissed, stepping back. "Besides I'd have to read them and that takes more time than looking."

"I have colored labels in my flat. How about blue for fingers and…pink for toes? You'd still have to look, but just at the color," Rose offered.

"Pink? Do I look like someone who wants pink labels on his toes?"

John laughed. He couldn't help it. Sherlock was standing there, looking completely serious, talking about pink labels on his toes.

"What?" Sherlock snapped.

"It's…" he tried to stop laughing long enough to explain, but he couldn't manage it.

"Oh, shut up, John!"

"How about orange?" Rose asked, trying to rein Sherlock in before he stormed out of the room.

"Orange?"

"It's not pink."

"Fine," he fumed, shooting John a glare.

"I'll just go grab them. Be right back," she said, walking out of the kitchen.

Sherlock put the kettle on and then eyed John who hadn't been able to stop smiling since the toes.

"Why are you smiling like that? You look like an idiot," Sherlock snapped.

"You," John said.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What you mean, me?"

"I never thought I'd see it."

"See what?"

"You in a relationship."

"What? I am not in a relationship, John."

"She's got you labeling your body parts. Next thing you know the table will be cleared off."

"Oh, shut up, John!"

"Don't worry Sherlock, I'm sure she'll be gentle. First the labels then the cleaning."

"Very amusing."

At that moment the detective's mobile chimed. He pulled it out and answered.

"Yes," he snapped, obviously still irritated.

A pause.

"Where?"

He smiled in that way that told John the person on the other end was most likely Lestrade and the reason for the call was most likely murder.

"We're on our way."

He hung up and pocketed his mobile.

"Lestrade?" John asked, following his friend into the living room.

The door opened and Rose stepped in as Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf.

"There's been a murder, come along you two."

John grabbed his coat as she sat the labels on the side table before pulling her coat from the hook near the door. By now she knew to keep an extra one in their flat for these sorts of situations. He fell into step behind her, closing the door on the way out.

I do not own Doctor Who or Sherlock or any of their characters however I do own a fez, a banana, and a laptop. :)

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)