A/N HI GUYS. I'm back. I find one shots way easier than proper stories, basically because I'm lazy. Please review, that'd be awesome.
I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters, all rights to the BBC. Wish I did own them though ;)
John pushed open the door and peered round it, to see Sherlock standing in the middle of the kitchen, which now covered in a clear layer of ash. One of his experiments gone wrong again. John coughed as the remaining smoke irritated his throat.
"Sherlock!" he said sharply, addressing Sherlock's back. "What the hell did you do this time?"
Sherlock turned round looking slightly bemused. "How interesting," he commented as though he was making an observation about the weather. "I didn't think it would combust that quickly"
John rolled his eyes, not even bothering to ask how Sherlock had incinerated their kitchen.
"Clearly" he muttered. "It's such a mess"
Sherlock surveyed the mess with an air of complete disregard.
"Mrs Hudson will take care of it" he said dismissively. "I think the kettle is salvageable, tea?"
John smiled fondly to himself, it was times like this that he realised just why he was in love with this brilliant man. He sets fire to the kitchen and then offers to make tea, there really was nobody else like him.
"Yes," John replied, "But I'll make it, your cups of tea are undrinkable. Good job I love you isn't it?"
A slight blush crept into Sherlock's cheeks and frankly, John found it adorable.
"Yes, it is. I'll just go and get changed," Sherlock said quickly, wandering off towards his room. He turned and paused at the door. "And don't forget the biscuits"
John wandered into the kitchen, trying not to retch at the putrid smell as he brushed the ash off the kettle and switched it on. Surprisingly, Sherlock had been right, the kettle was relatively unharmed. He rummaged through the cupboards to find milk, teabags and cups, which had also been saved from the fire. He had the strongest suspicion that Sherlock had made the cup cupboard fireproof. He brewed the tea and began searching for biscuits, whilst he was doing this, one of the doors fell off in his hands.
"Oh for Gods sake" he muttered, then raised his voice. "Mrs Hudson is going to murder you Sherlock"
He placed the drinks and the few digestives that still seemed edible on a tray and carried them through to the living room. He'd just set the tea tray down when Sherlock came back in wearing his purple pyjamas and grey silk dressing gown, leaving very little to John's imagination, like all Sherlock's clothes, they were slim fitting and tailored.
"Yes we'll have to be paying a lot more rent this month. Tea ready?" Sherlock said, sitting down.
It was only then that John realised his mouth was half open and he was staring at Sherlock. Those pyjamas made his stomach stir and his heart rate double at least. He realised Sherlock wanted an answer so he gulped, "um yes, right. Tea" and handed over a cup of tea, not taking his eyes off Sherlock's body.
Sherlock took a sip of his tea and smirked. "Enjoying the view?" he asked.
It was John's turn to blush now. "Don't know what you're talking about" he said, looking at the floor but sneaking looks from under his eyelashes. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.
"Oh of course you don't" he almost drawled.
"Well if you lounge around wearing that…" John said, slightly flustered, "It is rather distracting."
"A bit warm in here isn't it?" Sherlock said slyly, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his pyjama top. "And what's wrong with these, its already six pm"
John sunk down into the chair next to Sherlock, fearing his legs wouldn't hold out much longer.
"Guess it must be something about the purple ones" he said, winking.
"And in that case" he added as an afterthought. "I'll put my pyjamas on too. Oh wait, I don't wear them" He grinned wickedly at the consulting detective.
Sherlock's lip curled as he replied. "I'd forgotten you don't wear pyjamas, you'd better go and get your girly boxers on then. Don't try to deny it"
John scowled across at Sherlock, his mouth pouting slightly. "They're not girly" he snapped. "Not like that silk dressing gown"
"At least my dressing gown doesn't have hearts on it" Sherlock muttered under his breath but just loud enough for John to hear.
John stood up and bent down to whisper in Sherlock's ear. "Watch it or I won't wear any boxers, doesn't that alarm you" he said quietly, smirking as he straightened up.
"T-that wouldn't affect me at all" said Sherlock shakily, turning away and taking a gulp of tea.
"Oh yes it would" John shot back," But don't worry, I'll behave. Mycroft probably has this place bugged, back in a sec"
He brushed his hand lightly over Sherlock's shoulder for a second before walking towards his bedroom. Once John was in his room, he took a few deep breaths and tried to steady himself. He crossed to his drawers and selected a pair of distinctly UNgirly pale blue boxers and a gray tshirt and quickly changed into them, gritting his teeth as he jarred his shoulder slightly.
Shoving his feet into slippers, he re entered the front room and rumpled Sherlock's hair as he sat down on the arm of his chair. "Thought I'd retain a little modesty" he said, tugging at his t shirt. "Fancy a takeaway, I do NOT want to cook in that kitchen"
"You do know they use any leftovers that the supermarkets deem unsuitable and pack it with flavourings to make your kebabs don't you" said Sherlock without looking up.
John grimaced slightly at the thought before he walked over to Sherlock and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. "I love you." he said, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face. " I was going to suggest a Chinese actually"
"I love you too John" said Sherlock warmly. "And yes, Chinese sounds lovely"