(221b, Alice’s POV: )

 It was roughly a month after the Irene Adler incident. No one mentioned her. No one said anything. It was rainy, as expected in London, and a fire was going. Sherlock was in the kitchen and John was on a date.

I was sitting in Sherlock’s chair, reading Twilight to see what all the fuss was about. It was very popular in America but I didn’t see what the big deal was. The grammar and everything was fine but the plot, characters and everything else was complete rubbish.

 “What possesses people to write-” I held the book imbetween my first two fingers and dangled it over the floor. “...this...?” I wrinkled my nose. Sherlock looked up from his microscope and glanced at the ‘book’. He just looked at me blankly and went back to the microscope. “Well fine. Just shun me for trying to make conversation.” I said crankily. He looked back up to me.

 “You want us to converse over bad literature?” He asked. I shrugged.

 “No, I was hoping we would move away to a better subject.”

 “Such as?”

 “Good literature?” I asked. He quirked a smile. I smiled back and got up, going to the fridge. He watched me move and I pretended to not notice. I grabbed my peanut butter and went back to the chair, only to find that Sherlock had noiselessly moved into it. I frowned and moved into John’s. He smirked, his eyes still closed. I got a glob of peanut butter and flung it at him. It his him right on top of his head. His eyes shot open in terror and his hands flew to his head. I burst out laughing as he got peanut butter all over his fingers. He gave me one of his best evil glares and stood up stiffly, going to the bathroom. I chuckled and put a spoonful in my mouth, moved to his chair again, and switched on the telly.

Sherlock came up behind John’s chair and stood with his hands behind his back and his hair dripping wet. I fought back a smile and looked up at him expectantly.

“Yes?” I asked after he didn’t speak for a while.

 “I propose a truce.” He said dryly. I nodded, putting another spoonful in. “You discontinue tormenting me when John is out, and I teach you something.” He said. I mock pouted.

 “Aww. John not here to protect you?” I mocked. He glared and I smirked. He came out from behind the chair and stood in front of me. I looked up at him.

 “Deal?” He demanded.

 “What would you teach me?” I asked.

 “Lock picking.” He answered, as if he had thought about this a lot. I nodded.

 “Why not.” I answered, standing up and making him take a step back. I put my hands on my hips and looked up at him. He looked at me strangely and went into his room. I shrugged and put my peanut butter back in the fridge.

 “Ready?” He suddenly asked, his voice coming from directly behind me. I jumped.

 “Bl**dy h*ll, Sherlock! You’re a d*mn ninja!” I said angrily.

 “Swearing three times in one sentence is not necessary.” He replied dryly. I huffed and he walked out to the den, me following. He handed me his lock picking set and squatted in front of the doorknob, locking it before he did. He looked up at me as I scanned over the tools helplessly. “And I do not believe ‘ninja’ is the proper way to describe my movements.” He said sarcastically.

 “Shut up.” I mumbled, squatting down next to him and selecting a tool.

 “Ah.” He warned. I moved to another one and he did the same. Three tries later he grumbled and took one out and shoved it in my hand. I mumbled a quick thanks and scooted closer to the handle. I stuck it in, not sure what to do. I wiggled it around, not really getting a result. He growled.

 “Give me a break, Sherlock! I haven’t ever even tried this before!” I complained. He sighed and came up behind me, putting his hands on mine. To get that close he had to press himself up against my back. I felt myself get hot, and I couldn’t even stop it. His face was pressed up against mine so that he could see. Luckily he didn’t notice my blush, or at least he pretended to.

His fingers outstretched mine as he grasped the plastic handle. He held it firmly and expertly felt around the inside of the lock with the tool. It caught something and wouldn’t move as easily. He smiled and I felt it against my skin. Another wave of heat. He turned the pick to the left, and the door unlocked. He moved away from me and turned the knob, opening the door. He stood up and gave me the tool, re-locking the door. He went back to his chair, steeping his fingers and closing his eyes.

 I sighed and stuck it in, feeling around like he had. I couldn’t get it to click. I growled and flung my hands up in the air.

 “Try turning the pick.” Sherlock said sarcastically. I stuck my tongue out at him and did as he said. It finally did click. I scowled and turned it some more. It unlocked. I blinked in surprise and turned the knob, opening the door. I slowly turned my head to Sherlock.

 “So... that it?” I asked. He nodded without opening his eyes.  “But how do I know which pick to use for which door?” I asked.

 “I’ll teach you that some other day.” He said nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes, got up, and threw his set into his lap, walking into his room.

Okay, so this is NOT Hounds of Baskerville. This is just a fluffy chapter I am posting to wait and see how many people want me to do Baskerville. So enjoy, vote, and comment fun peoples! =)