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Description
Chapter 3 - Alternative Version

I finished my tea and returned home to find Sherlock lying on the sofa. Still in his pyjamas, still no case.

"Where have you been?" muttered Sherlock after a moment of silence.

"You tell me." I never understood why he asked me questions when he undoubtedly knew the answers already.

"The café on Northumberland Street." I wasn't really interested in how he knew but he always liked to tell me. "You just emptied your coat pocket – a receipt and some change, less change than when you went out with so you bought something but you're not carrying anything therefore it must be food or drink. Since you already ate, you would have got a drink. Again since you are not carrying a bottle you must have been in a café so that you could have sat down and have some space to yourself." He sounded like he resented that. "Since most people go to places you already know I deduced you went to the closest café which is the one on Northumberland Street." I didn't tell him if he was right or not but the fact that I didn't protest showed that he was.

"So what have you been doing?" I glanced up at the wall, there were new bullet holes. I went to my room to check up on my gun but it hadn't been touched.

"Sherlock, do you have your own gun?" He didn't look at me.

"Yours was in your room, all the way up those stairs."

"Give it to me. GIVE IT TO ME!" Reluctantly he reached underneath the sofa and pulled out a small gun.

"Where did you get this from?"

"Lestrade was annoying me. I was only going for the badge but I thought this was more interesting." I rolled my eyes. Stealing a policeman's badge was bad enough but his gun! "Oh, don't look so horrified John, when it comes to cases it will always be your gun I will use." I took the gun and placed it with my one. Hopefully the stairs would deter him for a little while. But he did have a point about the boredom. Without a case life did seem to move so slowly. But come on, your Sherlock for the day, I said to myself. What does Sherlock do on a day like this? Nothing was the simple answer. So that was what I was going to do. I would stay in my room, munch on the biscuits I hoard there, and just leave Sherlock to whatever he wants to do like he does so often to me.

Description
Chapter 3 - Alternative Version

I finished my tea and returned home to find Sherlock lying on the sofa. Still in his pyjamas, still no case.

"Where have you been?" muttered Sherlock after a moment of silence.

"You tell me." I never understood why he asked me questions when he undoubtedly knew the answers already.

"The café on Northumberland Street." I wasn't really interested in how he knew but he always liked to tell me. "You just emptied your coat pocket – a receipt and some change, less change than when you went out with so you bought something but you're not carrying anything therefore it must be food or drink. Since you already ate, you would have got a drink. Again since you are not carrying a bottle you must have been in a café so that you could have sat down and have some space to yourself." He sounded like he resented that. "Since most people go to places you already know I deduced you went to the closest café which is the one on Northumberland Street." I didn't tell him if he was right or not but the fact that I didn't protest showed that he was.

"So what have you been doing?" I glanced up at the wall, there were new bullet holes. I went to my room to check up on my gun but it hadn't been touched.

"Sherlock, do you have your own gun?" He didn't look at me.

"Yours was in your room, all the way up those stairs."

"Give it to me. GIVE IT TO ME!" Reluctantly he reached underneath the sofa and pulled out a small gun.

"Where did you get this from?"

"Lestrade was annoying me. I was only going for the badge but I thought this was more interesting." I rolled my eyes. Stealing a policeman's badge was bad enough but his gun! "Oh, don't look so horrified John, when it comes to cases it will always be your gun I will use." I took the gun and placed it with my one. Hopefully the stairs would deter him for a little while. But he did have a point about the boredom. Without a case life did seem to move so slowly. But come on, your Sherlock for the day, I said to myself. What does Sherlock do on a day like this? Nothing was the simple answer. So that was what I was going to do. I would stay in my room, munch on the biscuits I hoard there, and just leave Sherlock to whatever he wants to do like he does so often to me.