John was looking forward to sitting with the paper and his coffee and going over his notes from the case, editing them down to what he wanted to include in his blog post. Really. That was all he wanted with his morning.
Unfortunately, that is absolutely not what he got.
Without even realising that he was being attacked, John found himself taken completely off guard and before he even could comprehend what was happening, his arms were pinned behind him and he was on the floor. The coffee he'd just finished making was a puddle of hot liquid and some ceramic shards a few feet away, and John was a sleepy, grumpy old doctor.
"What the hell?!" John cried, twisting and struggling against his captor until he was able to finally look Sherlock in the face. To say he was upset was a great understatement. "Let me up! Get off of me!" What the hell was he even trying to prove, anyway? That He was a master of stealth and deception and that it was utterly hopeless for John to fight back?
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Unfortunately, that is absolutely not what he got.
Without even realising that he was being attacked, John found himself taken completely off guard and before he even could comprehend what was happening, his arms were pinned behind him and he was on the floor. The coffee he'd just finished making was a puddle of hot liquid and some ceramic shards a few feet away, and John was a sleepy, grumpy old doctor.
"What the hell?!" John cried, twisting and struggling against his captor until he was able to finally look Sherlock in the face. To say he was upset was a great understatement. "Let me up! Get off of me!" What the hell was he even trying to prove, anyway? That He was a master of stealth and deception and that it was utterly hopeless for John to fight back?