Sherlock was tapping away on his phone; a text to Lestrade asking for more details on the case they'd just been giving. It had been nearly a week since anything of interest had come up so the consulting detective was beyond ecstatic.

"John!" He yelled, his voice echoing throughout the flat. He shouted it a few more times but got no answer. Sherlock most certainly found this annoying. I mean, after all, it was John's day off; It's not like he had anything better to do. He'd been inconsiderately taking more hours at the clinic, forcing Sherlock to suffer in his boredom alone. So the least he could do was answer when he shouted for him.

Sherlock let out a large groan before swinging his legs around and getting up from his lounging position on the couch. He yanked his scarf off the coffee table, placed his mobile in his coat pocket and ran up to John's room. When he got up there, he was in tune with all his surroundings. There was little to no movement or sound; just the occasional creak of his mattress. Sherlock assumed, quite correctly, John was still sleeping. Eyes closed in annoyance, Sherlock walked over to the bed, fully ready to pull him out of it so they could get going.

"John- He began but stopped.

He mumbled something else but it sounded like gibberish. Most likely due to the sight he was beholding. Oh, yes. John was asleep. Sherlock swallowed, creeping a bit closer. His flatmate's appearance ended up providing him with a minor shock. He was almost completely nude save for a pair of red pants, which were only somewhat visible due to the blanket he'd been covered with sliding off as he tossed and turned in his sleep. Sherlock quietly cleared his throat and shook his head violently one time, nodding.

"John, wake up. We have a case" His voice was a bit hushed. It didn't cause the man to stir. He simply hugged his pillow tighter and brought his leg up, causing the blanket to uncover even more of him. Sherlock looked up at the ceiling as heat filled up his cheeks. "J-John.." He stammered. Why was he stammering? "Seriously now, I need you awake." His voice was a little louder than before.

John rolled to lay on his back and noticing the movement, Sherlock looked back down at him; more specifically, the center of the man's red pants. The view of John's crotch and semi-opened legs sent strange feelings to Sherlock's groin. When John proceeded to groan in his sleep, the feeling strengthened and a bulge began slowly growing in the detective's pants. The blush on his face was certainly more visible. He began having the urges to touch him but quickly buried those thoughts away. Those definitely weren't appropriate things he should be thinking about his flatmate. Just then, Sherlock almost jumped back in fear he'd been caught but John merely rolled over once again onto his stomach. This view didn't change much, in fact, it just continued to make Sherlock stiffen. He bit his lip then frowned. Then, he got to his knees and rested his hands and chin on the side of the bed.

"Erm...Okay...I'll just.." He paused. On his knees so close to the bed, he had an even better view of his arse which was unintentionally giving Sherlock a massive erection. He had a few second thoughts about waking him up for the case. And nope, that had nothing to deal with the fact that he was getting turned on watching him sleep. No. He was just suddenly feeling considerate. Yes. That was it.

"I can wait...right here...until you wake up.." He didn't blink once.

Twenty minutes passed and John finally started to stir. It happened so quickly that Sherlock barely had any time to react. His eyes shifted all over. No time to reach the door or hide in the closet. He nearly panicked. So, he thought quickly and shoved himself undeneath the bed. He was now basically invisible before John even yawned. Sherlock felt the weight shifting above him and caught a glance of the Army doctor's feet in the corner of his eye. He kept his breath really quiet and even. He heard his footsteps and watched John's feet move around the floor.

From the directions he was taking, Sherlock could tell he was moving towards the dresser. He carefully and silently slithered closer to the edge the bed so that he could physically see when the coast was clear. What he saw, completely caused his heart to stop. John was removing his pants. His heart wanted to force his breathing to pick up pace but he had to work hard not to let it. His face was redder than before; in fact, more than he could ever recall it had been in his life. As wrong as it was, he couldn't look away. John was so beautiful to him. God, to have him be his. Fantasies of what they would do together filled his mind; such filthy thoughts which he tried to supress but he couldn't help himself. He'd been in love and wanted John for so long. Even just to kiss him once would send him skyrocketing to the moon.

Suddenly, he was interrupted by those lovely red pants sliding across the floor and slapping him in the face. He blinked a few time, trying to decide what just happened. Fear left him once he saw John putting on a different pair; white this time. Then, he proceeded to get dressed in a pair of nicely fitting jeans and one of his typical plaid shirts. He tucked it in as he headed for the door. Once he was gone, he heard John's foot steps going down towards their sitting room. Sherlock heard his flatmate calling his name and he instantly began to get up, quite idiotically forgetting the bed was there and bashed his head on it before falling back to the floor with a thud.

Shit! That was the word running through his mind as he heard the footsteps coming back up. John had heard it. Well, duh, of course he'd heard it; it was a pretty loud crash. Obviously. He had about 3.2 seconds before John came through that door. In a rush, he shoved the pants in his coat pocket. He didn't want to be seen with them.

Instantly, just as Sherlock had expected, the door opened. He kept quiet and looked at the floor as John paced around the room, confused. He appeared to be coming around to the other side of the bed. Sherlock shifted his eyes and then they widened. Crap. Part of his coat was sticking out from under the bed. He didn't even have time to grab it when he was suddened met with John's bewildered expression.

"Sherlock. Why are you underneath my bed?"

Sherlock lifted a finger and opened his mouth momentarily and then closed it again, thinking of some type of excuse. Something scientific. C'mon, Sherlock. You're clever.

"You know I hate to be bothered when I'm working..." He suddenly said.

John blinked a few times, trying to process what his friend just said, "Working? You're working...?"

"Yes. Isn't obvious?" Sherlock said, trying to sound condescending.

The doctor didn't continue speaking for a minute or two. He couldn't tell if John's expression read of disbelief or confusion. Maybe a little of both.

"In my bedroom. Under my bed. What could you possibly be working on under my bed? Working on what?" John finally asked, his eyes squinting a little.

"I thought it was quite apparent. You must widen your mind to all the possibilities of what I could be doing.."

"Under my bed.."

"Yes."

John continued to give him the strangest look in the world. So, after a time, Sherlock spoke again, "I'm..." He paused to think, "calculating the amount of dust...that forms under a bed when one hasn't cleaned in a while..." God that sounded really stupid but he's explained odder experiments to John in which he believed so maybe he'd buy it, "I'm also analyzing the type of dust that accumulates from different types of mattresses..."

"What...?" John stretched the word, still wearing the same weirded out look on his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes, "I don't expect you to understand"

"Whe-When did you even get in here? I was just here not even a minute ago" John asked.

"Then I suppose you have your answer.." the detective replied, trying to look really interested in the floor.

"But how-John began but Sherlock didn't let him finish.

"Leave me to my dust, John!"

John rolled his eyes and groaned, standing up again and leaving the room. Sherlock was happy when he heard the door shut and John going down the stairs. He fell limp on the ground, amazed that that had actually worked. After a second or two, he crawled out from under the bed. Once he was halfway out, he heard his phone beep in his pocket and he remembered the case.

With great speed, he got to his feet and rushed out the bedroom door to find John. The man had just begun to sit down when Sherlock ripped him out of his chair. "John. We've a case! We have to hurry!"

"Really? First thing in the morning? Can't I at least have breakfast first? I haven't even had my coffee" John asked.

"On the way" Sherlock promised him and then rushed him as he put on his shoes and grabbed his jacket.

A minute later, they were off. Sherlock ran up to the street and hailed them a taxi. As the cab stopped for them and they got in, Sherlock proceeded to tell him all about the case he'd received earlier. The whole dust nonsense was completely lost. So much that Sherlock practically deleted the whole situation from his memory.

He'd just finished getting John up to speed and they were about fifteen minutes away from their destination. Sherlock tapped his foot, obviously impatient to get to where they needed to be. He kept looking out the window. His phone kept beeping but Sherlock knew it was just details so he ignored it. He'd read the texts once everything that was needed to be sent was sent. However, the incessant beeping was enough to drive John mad.

"Oh, just answer your phone once in a while!" John complained and then shoved his hand into Sherlock's coat pocket. His eyes widened briefly; what he felt wasn't a was something soft and fabric-y. Sherlock's eyes instantly landed on John when he felt him pulling something out.

John was in shock and disbelief that he was now holding his red pants. John's face was red but Sherlock's was redder, especially when John asked, "Sherlock..what is this...?"

Sherlock pressed his lips together, looking straight ahead. He blinked once and his lips twitched quite a few times and he licked them nervously, "Obviously, not my phone...Ahem.." He leaned forward and began talking to the driver, ignoring his flatmate calling his name again and again "You can stop here please..." The driver didn't listen. They were in the middle of traffic, after all, "You know what? You don't even have to stop...I'll just.."

Suddenly, Sherlock opened the door of the moving cab and rolled out. John's face fell in utter shock as he saw the detective roll onto the asphalt.

"Sherlock!"

The dark haired man gracefully jumped to his feet and made it to a nearby sidewalk, where he began to run off in the direction the cab had been taking pulled the door shut and just watched in awe, looking down at his crimson underwear and wondering what the meaning of all this was.