Sherlock, & The Murder of The Milk Jugs.

Big Ben’s timely clock showed the time: 12:46 am. The environment was entirely different in 211 Baker Street,, almost like a scene from a comedic moment in a children’s story, where one side of the city is light, happy and shining with joy, and the other side dark, dank, and utterly, undeniably, gloomy. The flat inside was deserted, except for a skull.
The kitchen counter was littered with glass vials filled with different colored liquids, paper towel was crumpled up and absent-mindedly thrown all over the place, littering the normally spotless floor that poor Mrs. Hudson had spent countless times scrubbing. Next to the sink, three plastic milk jugs stood empty. And the great detective, Sherlock Holmes, was just finishing pouring the fourth down the sink, emptying the jug of its contents.
“Really Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson walked in, a purple apron on over her normal clothes, and, drying her hands with a cloth, she had been washing windows in the other room.”Why did you go out and buy all that just to waste it? For shame, just because nobody pays attention to you when you come up with a conclusion to a case, you can’t expect everyone to pay you compliments, and it certainly isn’t an excuse to waste milk!” She wrung her hands crossly. “Milk is expensive, for goodness sake Sherlock!”
Sherlock was a man with the emotions of an automaton, intelligent, and sociopathic. His piercing eyes wore a bored, devil-may-care expression,like a child listening to a math teacher. His face said-”Please tell me more how much I care about the cost of milk, Mrs.Hudson.” A door slammed abruptly downstairs, and someone’s footsteps walked briskly upstairs, and the flat’s wood door opened.
“What’s going o-” John Watson stopped stock-still from his vantage point. He could see the horrible mess in the kitchen. The crumpled paper towels, the dirty vials scattered everywhere, the empty milk jugs, and a faint scent of cleaning fluid. “What THE HECK have you been doing, Sherlock?!”
“Bored.” Sherlock muttered boredly. Mrs.Hudson smiled a tired grandmotherly smile in John’s direction. “Hello dear, where’s Mary?” Mary was John’s wife. “Working.” John answered, clearly very ticked off, Sherlock could tell by the clenched jaw, and the slight twitch of the right eye. “Sherlock, just because you’re bored, doesn’t mean that YOU HAVE TO POUR ALL THE BLOODY MILK DOWN THE SINK!”
“WELL, I just solved another case and no one bothers to check in about it!?” Sherlock yelled back, irritated. It was true. No one had even bothered to say-”Oh, thank-you Mr. Holmes for solving this case, we would’ve been lost without you.”
Mrs. Hudson had left quietly during all this, she didn’t like everyone shouting, it reminded her of her ex-husband. “And the game has changed John! Moriarty is-” The flat door opened again, for the second time that day. “Hello?” Molly Hooper’s voice sounded a little small compared to the shouting match she just cut off. “Sherlock? Mrs. Hudson called me, and I’m just here to drop off some milk. Sorry, I’ll just place this by the door, I gotta go. Oh, and great job on the case!” ” She said awkwardly, and left.