Thanks to MapleLeafCameo for looking over this for me. Also, I don't own them so I can't profit from writing about them.

John was used to noise. His father liked to yell and, from the start, Harry turned out to be a yeller too. John was a nice boy so found plenty of friends growing up and, being smart, he was always asked to be a part of study groups in medical school and the gang who met at the pub. Naturally this ability of being easily accepted followed him when he joined the army. Until he was sent home with a bullet wound in his shoulder and a psychosomatic limp, John Watson was always one for being in the thick of it.

Sherlock had warned him of days when he never spoke a word. Before this would have driven the good doctor mad but now, well, he could appreciate the stillness and quiet in a world of chaos. Not that John didn't still like his fair share of thrills, even Mycroft Holmes had known that was a necessity for the former soldier upon their first meeting, no he could enjoy the times when they stopped for a while.

Which was why one Saturday night, after working three days of double shifts earlier in the week followed by a case just after, John was ready for some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, Lestrade, upset that Sherlock didn't want to do the necessary paperwork until the next day, had decided it was time for an impromptu drugs bust. Having half a dozen Yarders crawling around their flat, Sherlock and Lestrade arguing, and Donovan and Anderson throwing in taunts from the sidelines, was not making John a happy man.

For some reason, John snapped when Lestrade picked up the Sherlock bear that had been resting on the mantle. When the D.I. started tossing the stuffed animal back and forth in his hands, John literally saw red. He got up from the sofa and crossed the room.

"You know, it isn't a barrel of laughs working in the surgery, dealing with people as they vomit or sneeze all over you; especially when you have to cover not only your shift but also the shift of the person who was supposed to relieve you."

Confused, Lestrade said, "No, I don't expect it would."

"And then, when I'd love nothing better than to relax for a while, I help him," John swung his right hand out in the direction of Sherlock, "because he is busy helping you lot do your jobs!"

Anderson opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort but paused when Donovan laid her hand on his arm and shook her head in warning.

"Now I'm all for helping to keep people safe and I'm glad we can be of help." John took in a breath to deliver his point home. "But I am really tired of having everyone stomping in here because someone is in a snit because a non-employee of the Yard wants to fill out paperwork a day after the D.I. wants them too. Not that it has to be in when the sun rises tomorrow but because someone wants to get his files in before Dimmock."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I am going to say this as nicely as I can, especially since you don't have a warrant, that I would appreciate it if you lot would kindly stop touching our things, gather your stuff and leave us the hell alone so we can have some peace and quiet!" John's volume level had risen dramatically during his tirade and by the last word his hands were clenched tightly at his sides.

Realising they were being given an order by Captain Watson, Lestrade's crew, the D.I. as well, quickly packed up their gear and made a hasty retreat. Two minutes later the front door slammed shut and John dropped into his chair with a sigh. Looking up, he could see Sherlock smirking.

"Be smart and know that doing experiments isn't a good choice for tonight," the good doctor cautioned.

Still smiling, Sherlock threw himself onto the sofa.