A/N: Written by my sister, Dove, for creative writing class.

We own nothing.

x

John Watson groaned as he rolled out of bed, sore from the previous day's antics.

Tea, he thought. He wanted tea. He made his way to the kitchen, and stopped dead at the sight on the table. He sighed, and mumbled "It's too early for this," before he put the kettle on the stove. That done, he turned around, crossing his arms and leaning against the stove.

"Sherlock," he began tentatively, cautiously, "What are you doing?

"An experiment, obviously." He replied curtly.

John sighed exasperatedly. "Sherlock, you're arm wrestling with a pig."

Sherlock didn't reply, too focused on his task.

"And you're losing." John tacked on.

Still no reply. John sighed once more, before turning and focusing on making his tea, and not the odd noises and snorting from behind him. He just wanted tea.