“What?” John squinted into the sudden light. He had been dreaming and it had been a good one for a change. This had better be good, or Sherlock would be making him breakfast.
“Text from Lestrade.”
“Oh really? What’d it say?” Who was he kidding - No Sherlock wouldn’t.
“Obviously. Look - no, Sherlock. Greg has gone to France for the week with his girls. You know that. I know that. You know I know that.” John decided that the best way to combat light was not to, with his eyes kept resolutely shut.
“Who?” Sherlock landed beside John on the bed, pretty much obliterating what was left of his sleep. “Never mind John, you need to get up and dressed. Now would be best.”
“Why? What time is it?” John could see, once he levered his left eye open, that Sherlock was dressed in a suit and his coat. His scarf was in his lap ready to be donned.
“4am. Come on John, you’ve been asleep for at least 6 hours. That should be sufficient.”
“For what exactly Sherlock?” John paused momentarily, licking his lips. God knows what Sherlock was up to this time, might need help. “Will I need the gun?”
“That might be an idea, John. Yes.”
John shot up so fast he bounced.