I don't even know. Enjoy!

John walked into the living room ready to sit and relax in his favorite arm chair and maybe read one of the novels he got from the library the other day, but as soon as he entered the room he knew that there was something off. His favorite chair was gone! In its place was this expensive looking black leather chair. But it wasn't a normal looking chair. It had separate spaces for each of your shins and it looked like it had some kind of remote plugged into the back of it.

"SHERLOCK!" he yelled, knowing very well who the culprit was.

"Yes, John?" John nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around to see Sherlock in the kitchen calmly doing his experiments. How had he not noticed or heard him there?

As soon as he recovered from the shock, and slight embarrassment he said, "What is that?" and pointed to the black leather chair.

"It's a chair," said Sherlock, as if it were the stupidest question in the world, "Surely you could tell that."

"Yes, well, where is MY chair?" Sherlock put down his experiments and joined him in the living room.

"With a little family in Italy," he replied, "I assure you they're taking very good care of it." John just stared in resentment for a while. When that didn't get a reaction from Sherlock (obviously) he retorted,

"Sherlock! You can't just sell my stuff!"

"Oh come off it. It wasn't your chair, it was ours. And besides this one's far better."

"How much was it?"

"Cheap. The owner owed me a favor," Sherlock said waving it away as if it were unimportant, "Now sit, and I'll show you what this thing can do."

John just stared at him for a minute, trying to decide whether Sherlock was really being as suggestive as that sounded. And as absurd for that matter.

"What do you mean? It's just a chair." Sherlock rolled his eyes,

"Oh for god's sake, just sit!" With some reluctance John did as he asked, and sank down into the, surprisingly, comfy black leather chair. He sighed. Not bad.

"You're right, this is much better than the old one. Thank you." Of course John assumed it was for him. Sherlock just grunted in response. Sherlock sat down on the sofa next to him and picked up the remote that lay by his side.

Then suddenly his world became one vibrating and buzzing chaos. John sprang out of the chair and stared at it in astonishment. The chair was still vibrating erratically, as if possessed. He looked over at Sherlock who stared back at him with an annoyingly amused expression on his face, remote still in hand.

"What IS that?" John said pointing at the thing.

"It's called a massage chair."

"A massa-?"

"Yes, John, now sit back down. I'm not done." John stared at him in disbelief, but Sherlock just turned back to the remote and studied it thoughtfully. Oh who was he kidding, he'd do anything for the man.

John sank stiffly back into the vibrating chair. It was an extremely strange feeling to have everything beneath you vibrating. "Relax, John. The chair's not going to eat you." Acquiescing, John reluctantly let his muscles go and sunk even further into the chair. Gradually the vibrations were becoming no longer strange, but almost hypnotizing. He could feel each of his muscles vibrating with the chair, and that was now all that he could think about. It felt… good. He closed his eyes.

Then something strange happened. Near the base of his back, beneath the fabric of the chair, something solid and warm pressed against the muscles on either side of his spine, and began to slowly slide up towards his head, gently running over each of the knots he hadn't even realized were there. He couldn't suppress the groan when it reached a very sensitive part of his neck. He smiled as it began to knead into that very spot, and slowly kneaded its way down to the base once again.

The foot and shin rests were now joining the act as well. The chair gently squeezed and pressed at his shin muscles and something rolled up and down the bottom of his feet. It felt so good. He let out another satisfied groan.

"You like it I take it?" said a deep voice beside him.

"Yeah," he sighed, not at all caring at how smug Sherlock sounded.

"You don't want your old chair back."

"No," he sighed again.

"Good! I leave you to it then. You can control it with this." John opened his eyes and saw Sherlock holding the remote. He put it next to him, and left for the kitchen, with that smug look still plastered on his face. John would deal with that later, right now he was far too relaxed to care.

It had been about three weeks since they had gotten the chair. They had just finished a case, and John was in series need of a nice soothing massage. So he immediately sat into his comfy new chair and turned it on. He no longer had as an intense and incapacitating reaction as the first time he'd experienced the massage chair, however it never failed to put his muscles at ease.

Except for this one time.

He'd been sitting there enjoying himself for about ten minutes, when he'd heard Sherlock's voice. However he hadn't quite heard what he'd said because the chair was vibrating particularly loudly that day. He sat up a little.

"Sorry, what?"

"Up. My turn," Sherlock said, who was standing in front of him.

John sat back into the vibrating chair. "Your turn for what?" he liked to play dumb sometimes.

"The chair, obviously."

He paused pursing his lips.

"Ask me in an hour, maybe you can use it then," John said. He picked up the remote and turned on the leg massagers.

"John! I want to use it now! Now get up!"

"No! It's my chair, and I want to use it."

"What do you mean it's your chair? I bought it."

"Yes, and you sold MY chair and replaced it with this one. Hence my chair."

"We already agreed that was OUR chair."

"No, YOU agreed that was our chair. Not me. Besides I've had a rough day, and I need to use it." Sherlock scoffed.

"You've had a rough day? You've had nearly the same day as I've had. Therefore I have equal rights to the usage of that chair."

"I'm the one who had to carry the unconscious murderer all the way back to Scotland Yard!" Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Therefore," John said mockingly, "I get to use the chair NOW." He closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair as if the conversation were finished.

A moment later he heard a very determined voice.

"John," he said, "I want that chair. I will get that chair." Suddenly he felt two strong arms wrap around his shins. He opened his eyes to see Sherlock with that dangerously determined look on his face, trying to pull John off the chair by his legs. It wouldn't be that easy. John caught hold of the arm of the chair so he couldn't be pulled off any further. But before he knew it Sherlock was in front of him trying to shove himself into the spot where John vacated. John, of course, being an army doctor, was fully prepared for this and quickly pushed himself back into his previous spot, effectively shoving Sherlock off the chair and onto the floor. Sherlock didn't give up so easily though. He pushed John's back off the chair, and once again tried to force himself into the seat. It was Johns turn to try to pull Sherlock off by his legs.

This went on for another ten minutes, until at one point, while John was trying to pull Sherlock out of the chair by his waist, the chair decided to flip over onto its side causing them both to loose balance, and join the chair on the floor. They both burst into giggles.

"Well I think the chair won that one," said John once he caught his breath.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Please."

They stayed there sprawled on the floor for a while longer. Sherlock turned toward John, "Dinner?"

"Starving."

Thirty minutes later they sat eating on the sofa, Sherlock's legs outstretched onto Johns lap, and Chinese takeaway boxes spread all over the sofa and coffee table, with some ridiculous show playing on the television.

The massage chair lied on its side, still vibrating away. Very studiously being ignored.

Reviews are always amazing, and inspirational, and awesome, and-and... yeah. REVIEW PLEASE. :D