John entered the living room, plastic shopping bags adorning his arms like a series of bizarre bracelets. Sherlock sat perched in a chair, staring straight ahead, eyed narrowed.
"I don't understand why you cant go out to get food once and a while," John huffed, setting the bags on the kitchen table and turning towards the immobile Sherlock. When he didn't answer, John crossed the room and sat opposite him.
"Do you ever listen to anything I say?" said John irritably.
"Of course, I just choose not to respond." Sherlock uttered faintly, "I was in my mind palace."
Nodding exasperatedly, John stood up to leave, but as he did, Sherlock's phone went off.
'Nnng' the cellphone moaned from the chair's armrest. Both of them stared at it for a brief moment.
"Who's texting you?" John asked tentatively.
"Irene Adler." Sherlock mumbled, glancing briefly up into John's quizzical eyes.
"But then why's the rington-oh." John's face slackened, "Right."
Sherlock dragged his hands across his face as John left, shutting his bedroom door with an abrupt Snap.
"It's not-It's not like that!" He shouted at the closed door, "John!"
Rising from the chair, he paced for a moment; His mind sifted through his options. Pros, cons, outcomes, chances...and the ever present hopes.
Conclusion: Risks are worth taking.
There was a soft knock on the door, and John looked round as Sherlock entered sheepishly. They stood, John with a somewhat haughty expression plastered on his face.
"I didn't, you know, with Adler." Sherlock started.
"I didn't ask if you did." John countered.
There was a brief pause before Sherlock strode across the room and grasped John's face with both hands, kissing him firmly on the mouth. For a moment John resisted, but then he softened, and he went limp in Sherlock's arms. Forcefully, Sherlock backed John against the bedroom wall. A shout of laughter erupted from John as they both began to disrobe, Sherlock fiercely unbuttoning his navy blue silk shirt and John pulling off his cream colored cableknit sweater. Sherlock eyed the sweater as it fell to the floor.
"Given to you by your mother..no, aunt? Mother, but it's sentiment-"
John cut him off as he kissed Sherlock, standing on tiptoes, hands fastened behind Sherlock's neck. They grappled for a moment, and then, still entwined, collapsed on the bed. Breathing heavily, Sherlock crawled on top of John, slowly kissing his neck. John whimpered slightly as Sherlock began to descend, biting gently as he went.
A sudden knocking came from their apartment door.
"Sherlock!" called, "There's someone here for you!"
John moaned as Sherlock rolled off of him, scrambling to find his shirt.
"So what, onto the next case?" He asked from the bed. Sherlock grinned and crawled across the sheets to where John lay. Kissing him on the forehead, he whispered, "I love you." And exited the room with a sly wink.