Sherlock was in the kitchen, staring into the microscope. Equipment and test tubes were scattered across the table. He seemed focused on the result of an important experiment.
"John, my phone," he mumbled, not even looking up. John stepped behind him and started to pat Sherlock's chest without hesitation. He wasn't offended by those unusual requests anymore.
"Gently, John," Sherlock scolded him. "My phone is on the coffee table, by the way."
John huffed angrily and rushed to the living room.
Sherlock regarded him with a smirk. He'd make sure to put that phone in his back pocket next time.
A/N:
Credits go to the wonderful Alice13 who let me translate her ficlet. For her English works you might check out her page on AO3.
For betaing and improving big thanks go to amazing The Lady of Purpletown, who is a treasure and I cross my fingers for her wishes to come true :-)