A very literal, in the knick(er) of time Red Pants Monday fic! This will hopefully be the first of a new series I will be starting, of which I will update every Monday! Some of them may be linked, but others maybe stand alone, I will specify though so don't worry!

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"John…?" The rich baritone voice of Sherlock Holmes sounded from the living room, a hint of uncertainty in his voice cracked to the surface and John knew that there was something wrong, after all, the 'Great Sherlock Holmes' never sounded uncertain of himself.

Unfortunately, John wasn't really in a position to react. The both of them had spent the whole morning, and most of the afternoon, scouting around the flat trying to find something that Sherlock had obviously misplaced but just wasn't admitting to. John, for his part, found himself in Sherlock's room, flat on his belly under his bed, cursing and scraping up everything he could find to see if it was there.

In fact, he spent that long searching for the damn thing, he had quite forgotten what it was he was searching for in the first place.

"John!?" he sounded again, more annoyed this time. John would have answered him but the damn torch in his mouth made that pretty-fucking -hard. The doctor breathed heavily through his nose, anger prickling up his spine as he heard an annoyed huff from the room next door.

"John! John where are-John! What are you doing under there!?" Sherlock exclaimed, his voice drifting from the doorway.

'right, that's it' John let the torch drop from his mouth and –in all this anger- attempted to get up, quite forgetting there was a bed above his head and hitting said head rather hard on the underside. He made the executive decision that getting up was a bad idea and wriggling out from under the bed took too long, so instead he just hollered from where he was.

"I'm searching for that goddamn thing that you, yes you Sherlock, 'happened' to lose!" he roared, feeling all but a little ridiculous with the upper half of his body under his flatmates' bed. There was a moment of silence in which John was sure he heard Sherlock trying not to laugh before he pronounced blandly,

"Well, it's not going to be under there, idiot." as if it had already crossed his mind.

John almost exploded with humiliation and anger, he dragged himself out from the other side of the bed and appeared a second later, bedraggled and rumpled, on the opposite side of where he started. For a split second he thought about how strange that would have looked for Sherlock, just seeing your flatmate's legs disappear under your bed and then his head pop up from the side a moment later, his hair tousled and unkempt from being on the floor so long.

Watson threw this thought violently to the back of his mind for fear that he may laugh and spoil it all, he stood to his feet and jabbed a finger at his flatmate who stood there with a surreptitious, smug look on his face.

"Why don't you try looking for this thing then?!" he asserted rather louder than he had meant to, "Because all I've seen you doing is wandering around with that 'aloof' look on your face and, let me tell you…" he laughed threateningly "It's not doing a whole lot of good, is it?" he ended on a condescending tone and suddenly wished he hadn't as he saw Sherlock's expression darken.

It seemed as if the detective wanted to make some witty, clever comment but he bit back, instead walking further into the room with a decidedly pleasant look on his face.

"Still, it was worth it." He chuckled, turning his attention to some papers he had left on his pillow and seemingly ignoring John's telling off.

"Worth what, Sherlock?" John snapped, folding his arms over his chest as he shifted the weight from his feet. The detective looked up at John, a sly smile worming its way across his features.

"Oh, you know…" The detective made a gesture towards the floor "Seeing you laid under my bed like that…actually quite hilarious"

John forced himself to keep calm, after all, whatever the idiot was saying he was saying it on purpose just to annoy the doctor.

"Listen, anyway…" John started, making an effort to change the subject before there was any blood shed "What did you want me for?" the good doctor tilted his chin up a notch, waiting for an answer with an expectant look on his face. Sherlock straightened his back and pinned his piercing eyes on John; they shared a look for a second before Sherlock spoke.

"I was inquiring as to whether or not you have found anything and, seeing as though you haven't, I'll just be—"

"No…" John interrupted; there was hitch in Sherlock's tone that suggested he was hiding something. "No," he continued "You sounded disconcerted before, you never normally sound like that, what was wrong?"

Sherlock's eyes widened only slightly, his body language becoming fidgety.

"I just said John, I was wondering if you had-" John laughed suddenly causing Sherlock to grind to a halt, "What's so funny?"

John hadn't meant to laugh, at least not out loud, but it had just hit the doctor why Sherlock was acting this way and, to be honest, it was pretty damn hilarious. Sherlock continued to fix John with a steely look, slight embarrassment and worry stayed uncovered under his eyes; the detective continued to wait for an answer.

"You've forgotten haven't you?" John pitched, giving Sherlock an expression of high amusement, the doctor didn't even have to wait to see if he was correct, the look Sherlock gave him was enough to go by. "You, the 'Great Sherlock Holmes' has forgotten why he came to talk to me." John continued to teased, shaking his head slightly in disbelief, a small smile playing on his lips. He doubted he would ever let this go, doubted he wanted to after seeing the look on the stoic man's face.

"Don't be ridiculous John, I never forget-" Sherlock protested but was cut off by John barking a laugh once more to prove his denial. Sherlock sighed curtly and looked down at the floor, gritting his teeth.

"Yes, okay…" he uttered, but John just couldn't leave this alone, this was almost as good as the time that Sherlock thought that Greg's name was 'Lestrade'; John had never stopped joking about that throughout the whole day.

"Yes what, Sherlock?" the doctor continued to probe, watching as the detective grimaced at the floor in the realisation that he would have to humiliate himself further. Another sigh.

"Yes, I did forget. But look, it's not my fault, I was distracted!" he hurried, a twang of desperation in his voice. John ticked a brow, glaring at Sherlock with an expression that had quickly changed from "I'm enjoying this' to 'Oh-fucking-really?' so quickly he could shame even some of the best mime artists.

"Oh?" he started, shifting on his feet once more "And since when does Sherlock Holmes get distracted?" Sherlock looked very uncomfortable for a second before returning to his cool demeanour, throwing John a sharp stare from under his fringe.

"Since now, problem?" the sleuth adjusted his stance slightly, tilting his head in an arrogant manor.

"Yeah, actually, what by?" John interrogated and wasn't at all happy by the way Sherlock paused for a second, his features flushed with shame.

"My room…"

"What in your room?"

Pause.

"…You…"

"Me?"

"Yes." There was a long beat between them, in which John had to sit down on the edge of the bed. Him? The great Sherlock Holmes had been distracted by him? John didn't even want to venture further into this; he was already feeling like someone had ripped a hole into his stomach. Sherlock must have sensed the apprehension in the air because suddenly a rich voice rang out.

"No, John, you misunderstood me…" he tried feebly, already aware of the fact that maybe he should have worded that a little bit better. John stood from the bed, his legs felt hollow for reasons that he couldn't even understand, let alone describe , however he needed to hear what Sherlock had to say, just to be sure that this was all cleaned up.

Sherlock's face was a mixture of embarrassment, hurt and pity for John who didn't understand, someone else might have found this a strange mixture of emotions for one human being, but not John.

"Listen, what I meant was that it wasn't you who had personally distracted me…" he proclaimed, smirking slightly as he realised just how stupid John was being. Oh, well there was the anger again, back and fighting in John's stomach.

"What then? What my…clothes distracted you or what?" he made a cold attempt at a joke, not really expecting a serious answer, but then again he should have known better, Sherlock was always 'Mr Punch line'.

"As a matter of fact…"

"Oh, what!?" John interrupted yet again and this time Sherlock was starting to look pretty sick of it.

"What, John?!" he spat but John didn't recoil.

"You mean my clothes distracted you?!" he failed to believe that was the reason behind it all, it was utterly absurd, "You've seen these clothes a lot of times Sherlock, how on earth can they distract you?!" he blinked at the consulting detective who seemed to be looking very pissed off at being cut off by his flatmate for most of the conversation.

"Yes, John…" he spat "But I never realised that you wore red pants…" his eyebrows shot up and now it was his turn to grin. John stopped dead in his tracks, or at least whatever tracks he had been planning on taking, because now the road was gone and it didn't feel like John could structure a coherent thought in his mind.

"Red…what?" he could feel his face flushing. His flatmate had stolen a glimpse of his underwear—his embarrassingly red underwear no doubt—he had taken note of what colour they were and god damn, he had even got bloody distracted by his bloody red underwear!

"Red pants John, do keep up…" the detective scoffed, his smile growing wider in that all too familiar expression of 'it was obvious' that Sherlock seemed to wear so well. "While you were on the floor, the band of your underwear was showing, quite easily spotted with a colour as vibrant as red." Sherlock explained, although John didn't need the explanation.

He was mortified, of all the underwear he could have worn today, why did he have to wear the damn red ones. It was embarrassing enough, to say the least, that Sherlock had noticed such a thing, but then he didn't really know what he had expected, he was dealing with Mr 'I observe everything'.

"I just have one question though…" Sherlock's voice broke him out of his thoughts and suddenly he was in front of him, Jesus Christ, he hadn't even seen him move! John swallowed hard as the detective neared him, a sarcastic yet studious expression masked his face and when their eyes met, the scrutinising look was so intense that John almost felt the need to back away.

"What?" his voice cracked, dreading all the embarrassing questions Sherlock could ask him. Oh for god's sake! Why did he feel so scared, Sherlock just about knew every other damn piece of clothing that he wore day in day out, even so much as to go and say which pieces were his favourite, so why was underwear any different?

But it was different, something was different. Sherlock had a strange, almost predatory look in his eyes that John was unused to and it put him on edge. That ice blue look burned a hole through his own eyes until he was sure he should be seeing white light around now.

"Why red?" his rich tone made the doctor flinch out of the hypnotising effect those eyes were having him, he steeled his glance and tried not to act like a swooning School girl, for Christ's sake!

"Why…red?" he puzzled, to make sure if he had heard the question correctly, Sherlock sighed in annoyance but said nothing. "Right, erm, well, they weren't my choice really, they were more of a-"

"Gift? Hm. I thought so, judging they were by the fact that you seem to despise them so much, however you seem to still wear them but underwear doesn't really have sentimental value, right?" he didn't wait for an answer "Right. So they were given to you in some sort of multipack set and now it's all you can afford to wear, which underlines less of a gift and more of a joke…meaning, Harry gave them to you. Tell me, am I wrong?"

John stood there in silence for a second, speechless but also confused, had Sherlock noticed his underwear just to tell him all this stuff? Just to impress him?

Surely not so then, why? Was he…? John stopped for a second, his mind clicking into place, was he embarrassed about it and now he was trying to cover up? That did seem a lot like a 'Sherlock' thing to do.

"I'm waiting…" Sherlock moaned around a sigh and John realised what it was he was meant to be saying.

"Oh, uh, no, no you weren't…that was…bang on yes, very good" he nodded in approval and felt a little prickle of pride at the smile that the detective held back on his face.

"Well, very good." Sherlock continued, stepping away from John and walking towards the door "Thank you for that little boredom buster, now, we must really find that case study, Lestrade will be wanting it by tomorrow and we really can't disappoint him." He trailed off as he exited the room and left John standing there, utterly bewildered and confused.

Surely Sherlock hadn't come in here for a silly little deduction had he? What was with that piercing look? Just the thought of those eyes were giving John feelings that he deemed highly inappropriate for a heterosexual man such as himself to be thinking.

Pushing all these thoughts to the back of his mind, John took hold of the matter in hand. At least now he knew what he was looking for again, but now the only trouble was where to find it? John sighed and turned his attention to Sherlock's draws by the side of his bed, making sure that he checked what was in there before opening them too wide…he didn't want a repeat of last time. John shuddered; he doubted Sherlock even still knew he had those dead toads in his draw.

The doctor rummaged through all the draws and cupboards, still finding nothing that resembled a case study or file of any sort, Sherlock should really start learning to type things down instead of write them.

Every now and then, he mind couldn't help wandering back to that icy blue stare on his, but he forced himself to let all of this slide until tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he could talk.

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Thank you for reading, the next one will be up next Monday (if I remember)...
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