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When John first moved in with Sherlock, he didn’t quite know where he was allowed to swim and where was off limits. This and Sherlock’s lack of proper attention to him was known to cause problems. One night was particularly memorable.
It was midnight, and John had found a body of water in the flat. It was in a large porcelain bowl that he couldn’t identify. Ignorant of how to keep out of danger in this strange environment, he deemed it safe to crawl up the curved bowl, suction cups assisting him on his way.
He had been swimming and splashing around in the water for an hour when a bright light clicked on above him. A shadow loomed over him, and there was Sherlock, fiddling with his trousers.
He hadn’t noticed John.
He got a great shock when Sherlock pulled some sort of limb out of his trousers and a stream of heavy liquid landed on John’s head. It looked like water, had the consistency of water, but it certainly did not smell like water.
John, finding it very unpleasant, screamed “SHERLOCK!” at the top of his squeaky voice. The stream stopped and Sherlock looked down with a surprised gasp.
“John?” he cried, quickly tucking himself in. “We’re going to have to start keeping the tub filled at all times.”