The Soldier and Consulting Detective

Bang

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I hear shooting from upstairs. That's what I woke up to. Still in my tank top and sweat pants, I quickly grab my gun and race upstairs. John is right beside me as I kick down the door and barge in with my weapon out.

"What the hell are you doing?" John yells.

After checking all the rooms, I go back in the living room and see Sherlock holding a gun, still in his nightwear.

"Bored." He replies.

"What?" John and I say simultaneous.

"Bored!"

Another shot.

"Bored!"

Another bang.

"Bored! I don't know what's gotten into the criminal classes. It's a good job I'm not one of them." Sherlock finishes, leaving us utterly shocked.

"So you take it out on the wall?" John yells.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock replies snidely.

He raises his gun to shoot the yellow smiley face, but I shoot first into its forehead. Both boys look at me, shocked from John, offended from Sherlock.

"Do it again, and the next one is in your kneecap." I threatened and hastily run downstairs to start my day.

~~~~~
I come back from a quick run, wearing my all black attire. My earbuds are playing my motivational music for working out, and I pause "Eye of the Tiger" when I get the door. I open it and immediately go to my flat to grab a towel, and i rush upstairs to join the boys.

"There's a head in the fridge!" I hear my brother complain from the kitchen.

"Really? I want to see!" I exclaim, very interested in what has unfolded.

Sure enough there is a severed head in the fridge. "Awesome." I mutter.

"No, not awesome, Hazel. Why is there a head in the fridge?" John scolds like a father.

"He has to put it somewhere." I say for Sherlock, not seeing the problem. I've stuffed a few heads in fridges as a message before. Is that mental?

"Thank you, Hazel." Sherlock says. "You don't mind do you? I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death."

John rolls his eyes and closes the fridge. I just chuckle from the event, pressing the towel to my forehead and then my neck.

"I see you've written the taxi driver case." Sherlock says, indicating towards the laptop. I move to Sherlock over on the couch and peer over his shoulder. He glances at me and then shakes his head slightly.

"A Study in Pink. Really?" I say, not impressed. I snatch the laptop and skim through the blog, not liking what I'm reading.

"Well, you know. Pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Do you guys like it?" He asks, hoping for our approval.

"Er..no."

"Not particularly."

"Why not? I thought you'd be  flattered." John says, disappointed.

"John, you includes the part where I shoot someone in the shoulder. Why would you do that?" I question.

"I didn't say that it was you, just some random person." He defended. "What about you Sherlock? Why don't you like it?"

"Let's see. 'Sherlock sees right through everyone and everything in seconds. What's incredible though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.'" He quotes.