I feel the need to apologise in advance since this kinda ran away from me and refused to be contained in one single comment. Also, possibly, for the rest of its content, in case this sailed right past your idea of this prompt.

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John has seen a lot of bad things in his life but he still believes that discovering a cold, dead heart in the refrigerator first thing in the morning is not a good way to start the day. Not only does it give the upcoming day quite a damper but it also makes John wish he hadn't had pizza the night before.

When he is done battling his gag reflex, he slowly walks into Sherlock's bedroom and pokes the man awake. It's something of a routine by now - albeit one John could really do without. He finds something gross in the refrigerator; he goes to wake Sherlock, only to get an annoyingly logical explanation for it. It's no different today.

"Sherlock, why is there a human heart in the fridge?"

"Testing the traceability of Ouabain overdose in decomposing bodies," Sherlock bites out and then flings himself around so John is left conversing with his back, "Don't you have somewhere to be? Saving children from starvation or healing the blind?"

"No, only lepers and the odd paralysed man on today's agenda," John isn't sarcastic by nature but living with Sherlock has certain effects on one's social skills. They shrivel up and disappear, for example.

"Then go and leave me in peace, for God's sake."

Sherlock yanks the blanket over his head and that's that. Conversation over.

When John comes home that night Sherlock is sitting in front of a dissected heart, marveling at its ability to turn lime-green. John thinks finding a cold, dead, green heart on the kitchen table first thing in the evening is not a good way to end a day either.

---

On Tuesday, their refrigerator houses several glasses filled with what turns out to be eyeballs upon closer inspection.

"They are for the lizards," Sherlock mumbles into his pillow and John doesn't even ask any more.

---

Wednesday marks the return of the infamous pig liver. Strangely, John has reached the point where anything not human is actually a relief. He still prefers his pig livers cooked though. And certainly not draped all over his carefully arranged sandwiches.

"Need it later for Lestrade."

"What for? To beat him to death with it?" Considering the size of the thing John thinks it’s entirely possible.

Sherlock pops one eye open and glares at him, "To make him see the error of his ways. Now leave."

John sighs and gets up, "Just, please, whatever you intend to do, don't put it back in the fridge afterwards."

"Why would I do that? That would be disgusting."

At this point John realises that he is morbidly interested in seeing what Sherlock may actually find repulsive. This thought, in and of itself, is an equally bad start for a day as dead hearts, livers or other assorted limbs.

---

On Thursday it's a mould experiment, according to Sherlock. John argues that Sherlock can go and find mould in the park or pretty much anywhere else in London but apparently it is of utmost importance that said experiment be conducted in their shared refrigerator.

By the time John returns from work the mould has spread over almost the entire upper level which John has to concede is indeed stunning. What he finds incredibly less fascinating is the fact that he spends the better part of his evening cleaning the fridge while Sherlock takes meticulous notes on John's laptop.

---

The first time it happens Rodney doesn't think anything of it.
They had after all just escaped another close call with the Wraith. So what else could it mean but relief to be alive when Sheppard kissed him on the cheek after stumbling through the Gate.

The second time Rodney thinks that it kinda made sense for Sheppard to pretend to be his boyfriend, when the villagers decided that Rodney should marry the chief's daughter. And the soft lingering kiss pressed to his lips certainly helped with telling them just that.

The third time Rodney thinks it's kinda nice that Sheppard brought him a cup of coffee. He doesn't quite get how the mess hall is 'on the way' from Sheppard's quarter's to his office, but he doesn't complain. Especially when he later finds out that they've yet again run out off coffee beans.

The forth time Rodney thinks John behaves kinda suspicious. Yet he can't quite work out why John would spend two hours listening to him rant about his latest discovery on the ancient control unit they found, when that means he still hasn't gotten around to check what's wrong with the Jumper. And why John would do that with a kinda soft, fond smile on his face.

The fifth time Rodney thinks that John might be hitting on him. Or was it perfectly normal for your straight friend to press you against a wall with a 'god, you're so draft.' and snog you senseless? No, John Sheppard was definitely hitting on him.

“So -” Rodney breaths, when John kisses a path up his stomach. His muscles are still quivering ever so slightly. “Do you want to get dinner... you know, sometime?”
John snorts with amusement.
“Why McKay, are you trying to hit on me?”
Rodney takes it as a yes, when John all but drapes himself over his body and goes to sleep snuggled up against him.

Hi, I'm new, and I seem to have written a monster. I'm just gonna go ahead and post the whole thing here. Is that okay?

One - Psychic

Dalton Rand sat in his jail cell, wearing an ugly orange jumpsuit. He hadn’t even seen it coming. Some psychic he was - even if he knew he was a fraud, he should at least have expected it. Well, he had expected it and had made safeguards against it, but his greed had overpowered him, and jeez, when the hell had he gotten so gullible, that he was sucked in by his own con?

But he only had five years, and those could be shortened for good behavior, and with few greased palms, he’d be out of here in no time.

He startled when a guard walked up to his cell door.

“What do you want?”

“You’re the psychic. Tell me what I want,” the burly, long-haired guard said.

Dalton scoffed. “Now, that, you’re not getting.”

The guard just smiled. “Okay. Come here.”

There was something about the guy that made Dalton wary of him, not just because of what he was proposing.

“Come here,” he repeated. “I ain’t sayin’ it again.”

Yeah, no, not happening…Though, somehow Dalton found himself standing up and walking slowly to the bars on his cell door.

Then a hand shot out and grabbed the front of the orange jumpsuit. Dalton’s face slammed into the metal bars. “You made my friend cry,” the guy whispered, blue eyes sharp as flint, “Nobody makes her cry. You’re gonna pay for that.”

“I’m already in jail,” Dalton said. Shit, what was this guy planning on doing to him? And who had he made cry? He’d made a lot of people cry, he thought, then cringed.

“Yeah, sure,” the guy agreed, feigning affability. Dalton’s face slammed into the door again, harder this time. “By the time I’m through with you, you’re gonna wish it was just a couple of years of jail time you have to put up with. I know people, people who owe me, and they’re going to make your life in the clink a living hell.”

The way he said it made it seem like it was the God’s honest truth. He didn’t have to be a psychic to know that.

And then the world blacked out as he was slammed into the metal bars of the cell door another time. A broken face when he woke up told him the blow that had knocked him out wasn’t the last time he’d “bumped” into the door.

1. Jack had gotten good at ignoring Daniel when he started talking about cuneiform. If you no one actually spoke it, it didn't qualify as a language.

2. When Daniel tried to explain why Indiana Jones wasn't even a character, he was a caricature of a character.

3. When Daniel warned him the truck was almost out of gas. Jack wished he'd listened that time.

4. When Daniel told him he was being anti-social for not going to Frasier's for dinner and a movie that night. He was always going to regret what he had said would be a wasted two hours.

5. When Daniel told him that trying to prove his superior strength to the aliens of 547 was a completely unnecessary display of machismo. His back muscles regretted that one.

1. But luckily he didn't ignore Daniel when he declared that he'd wasted enough of his life waiting for Jack and decided to move on.

LMAO! This just struck me as hilarious.