"John."
John flipped the page of his Sunday morning paper.
"John." As usual, the short call of his name wasn't loud. At least, it was quiet enough for him to pretend it didn't exist.
"John!" With a sigh, John folded the newspaper closed and laid it flat on the table. He shoved himself off the couch and made his way over to Sherlock's room.
"What is it?" He said as he peered in, but his flat mate wasn't inside.
"John!"
"Oh dear lord." He slapped an exasperated hand against his forehead. "I'm coming Sherlock! Will you please pipe down!" He hit the stairs at a slight jog, because, of course Sherlock was in his room. It seemed every time he couldn't find the man, he was always snooping around in his closet or scoffing at the Keane poster he had tacked up on his wall.
It was a great band, no matter what Sherlock's classically trained brain told him.
He rapped his knuckles against the door.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment." The muffled voice called from inside. John rolled his eyes as he entered the room. Which only caused him to wish that he had more eyes.
"Really? Again?" John said as he leaned on the wall. Sherlock was standing there with the most unamused look on his face – well, half of his face – which was poking out of John's favorite tan sweater. His left arm seemed to have made it through the designated hole, but his right was being crushed to his side.
"Don't you mock me."
"You're making it really hard for me not to do so, considering this is the third time you have done this." He took a step forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And you know that is my favorite sweater."
"Oh please, you've got a whole closet full of them! One shouldn't matter!"
"As usual, you don't understand emotional attachment." He let out another long sigh. "I guess I'll just leave you here then."
Sherlock hopped towards him with a desperate look on his face.
"No, wait John! I'll buy you another one! I promise."
John turned around. The gaze Sherlock had on him made a shiver crawl up his spine.
"Fine." He said. "I'll keep you to that."
And as he peeled away the fabric, he thought of different – better – ways for Sherlock to pay up.