"Mm, the taste of that beef roast was delicious!" Sherlock exclaims as he falls back onto his bed.
"Not as good as the taste of boyfriend…" Watson comments coyly as he lays down next to Sherlock. Sherlock stares at him quizzically for a moment.
What's he doing in my bedroom? Why is he on my bed? He's never laid on my bed before. Why now? Why is he going on about the taste of boyfriend? We've been going out for a while, but I doubt I'd taste good even if you cooked me up for dinner. Oh! Sherlock's eyes widen unperceptively as he comes to the right conclusion. He reconfigures his passive expression into an amused smirk.
"That's called cannibalism John. It's not exactly encouraged," Sherlock points out as Watson turns onto his side.
"Since when have you cared about appearances?" Watson inquires grinning as he hovers over Sherlock his face inches away from Sherlock's.
"I don't otherwise I wouldn't reason with a skull or keep dismembered body parts in my fridge," Sherlock counters raising one eyebrow sure of his victory.
"You sound like a cannibal already," Watson purrs as he lowers his head to kiss Sherlock. Checkmate.
