This is my very first fan fiction, I would be very happy about reviews, good or bad:)

Disclamer: I do not own any of the characters.

"John, hand me my phone."

John sight: "Where is it?"

"In my pocket." Said Sherlock.

"What?"

"In. My. Pocket! In my pants, did you not hear me?"

"Yes, I did, I just…" Sherlock interrupted: Bored! Get me my phone!"

For a split second John glared at his companion, then he went across the room to the big sofa, where Sherlock lied, massaging his underarm, which was taped with three nikotinpatches. THREE! He reached into his friends pocket, for a split second he felt the warmth of Sherlocks waist, his puls slightly rose. He grabbed the phone as fast as he could and placed it into the hand, that was hanging above him, waiting for it.

"You are very welcome Sherlock!" John said in a grumpy voice. Sherlock looked at his friend, bewildered, then he faced his phone again. John shook his head and grabbed his laptop to continue writing his blog. "Shut up!" It suddenly came from the sofa. "I did not say anything!" John cried annoyed. "You're thinking, it's annoying!" Without looking at the sociopath John went out of the room and climbed up the stairs to his tiny bedroom, not without given Sherlock one last look. Why on earth did he move in with this antisocial loner? But the thought of not seeing him daily brought a sudden chill upon him. Live would go back to being lonesome and depressed. Sherlock had brought the adventures, the thrilling danger of London back into his life, he owed this man!

He had not reached his room when he heard a childish shout: "John, come back here!" John could not help but smile, he turned around to walk down the stairs again: "What is it Sherlock?" He opened the door to the living room, what he saw was Sherlock, crawling around the floor. But what struck John, was, that the tall skinny man was top naked.

"What on earth… Sherlock put your shirt back on!" "I'M trying to find one! Spilled coffee on the one I was wearing." He stood straight and faced John. John tried not to stare at the pale skin, that treated over his muscles. He felt his breathing go slightly stiff. Stupid, stupid Sherlock! Why did he have to spill coffee on his shirt?

"Help me find some cloth, will you?"

Happy to have an excuse to turn his gaze away from Sherlock, he began searching for another shirt in the extremely messy living room. He saw a deep purple shirt hanging behind the oven, it seemed reasonably clean. "Found one." He said relieved. Sherlock came across the room and took the shirt that John offered him. The small mans hand touched the taller ones for a split second.

Hours later, Johns Johns hand still tingled like he had touched something electrically charged. He knew what it meant, oh he knew it too well but he could not face it. Not yet anyways.

Mrs. Hudson had prepared a delicious dinner for the two men but John could not eat, he did not feel hungry. At least not for food.

They did not talk much, and there occurred to be a certain tension between them. "John, what is it?" Sherlock finally asked. John's head rose: "What do you mean?" He said more aggressive, than he meant to. "Something is not right with you. You behave… strange!" "No I don't!" Responded John, but could not look into his companions eyes.

If John had looked up, he would have seen the concerned Look on Sherlocks face.

Hope you enjoyed it! If not, please tell me what you did not like!