'Not that show again,' Sherlock grouched as he stomped into the sitting room of 221B. Flopping onto the couch, he carelessly settled his head on John's lap.
Attempting (and failing) to repress the shivers running up his legs, John mused half- heartedly, 'Come on, it's not that bad.'
'It's so predictable,' Sherlock groaned. 'All television shows are in general, but this ridiculous excuse of a detective story is pathetic. Even the Scotland Yard's better than them.'
'Lestrade would have been honoured to hear that,' John sighed. Sherlock was in a difficult mood, and if bashing John's favourite television show was what he felt like doing, there was no stopping him. They spent the next few minutes in silence. John could feel Sherlock's eyes on him. It made him flush.
'For Christ's sake, of course it's the guard, look at his hair! No, no, no the next victim obviously won't be the brother, it'll be the fiancé.' Attention- seeking git, John thought as Sherlock spoiled another episode of his favourite show.
'Shut up,' he murmured.
'Or what?'
John said the first thing that came to mind.
'Or I'll kiss you.'
It took him moments to register what he had just said. Sherlock was silent. John braced himself, ready for rejection. After all, Sherlock had made it clear the first time they met that he was married to his work.
Seconds slugged by, until Sherlock finally spoke. 'The detective saves the fiancé. Of course he does.'
A relieved laugh bubbled up John's throat as he closed the distance between Sherlock's lips and his. The feeling of Sherlock's lips on his felt so right. It felt so good. Gently, he gnawed on Sherlock's lower lip. Satisfaction filled him as he saw Sherlock's eyes widen with surprise as he clutched a fistful of John's sweater and pulled, his back arched, his eyes glittering with desire. John, meanwhile, buried his hands in Sherlock's perfect curls, pulling at them softly as Sherlock moaned into his mouth. Then the hand clutching his sweater was no longer there as Sherlock ran his deft fingers down John's body, until they reached the zipper of John's jeans. He cupped John there, experimentally, and John pushed against Sherlock's hand, egging him on as his entire body rang with indescribable joy.
Sherlock was on the verge of pulling John's zipper down when Mrs Hudson's cheerful 'Woo-hoo' rang up the stairs, announcing her soon- to- be presence. Sighing, Sherlock pushed himself away from John as their lips parted with no small amount of reluctance.
Mrs Hudson's daily routine of filling their fridge with groceries seemed to take way longer than it usually did. Too long. John felt so sore down there it was nearly painful. He could feel Sherlock's amusement as he shifted around on the couch, trying to sit properly.
As soon as Mrs Hudson left, Sherlock turned to him and stated, 'The detective marries the fiancé.' John could not help but smile. 'You could have just asked,' he murmured as he closed the distance between them once again.