John scrunches up his face. It's obvious he has a stronger stomach. And it's really not that bad. He'll blame sherlocks supposedly extra sensitive nose. Most likely, it's just Sherlock being a ruddy pain in the arse. Just as he's always meant to be. "Yes I-- Oh just go downstairs. I'll clean up and be down after a shower to book us a pair of rooms."

Such a finicky thing. And such a selective genius! Honestly, where did he hope to stay? And at such short notice! At least he booked the train. He'd not want to have to ride in a car for the two hour journey it would take otherwise. He's still unsure about Sherlock's driving capabilities.

Or his propensity to find every single bump in the road. And god forbid they hit traffic leaving London!

John shoos his flatmate down the stairs and starts the cleaning up process. It requires a shower after and he defends the stairs himself, headache full blown, in a dressing gown an hour later.