"John! John, come here! It's urgent, John," A deep baritone voice called. John sighed before hauling himself out of his armchair, which suddenly seemed a lot more comfortable the moment his voice had been uttered from Sherlock's mouth. He dragged his feet along the carpet floor in their dormitory lounge, shivering slightly as he crossed over onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Sherlock had made himself comfortable in the empty bath, a few towels propped behind his back. His hands were pressed together, the tips of his fingers under the temple of his chin while he sat in deep thought. The sandy haired teen stood at the bath side, waiting impatiently for an explanation from the other.
"Sherlock?"
"What is it, John?"
"What am I doing here? You called me through."
"Oh, yes!" He remembered, breaking out of his reverie. "Could you hand me my notebook and pen? They're just there, next to the sink," Sherlock gave a vague signal towards the sink before returning his hands to underneath his temple.
"You dragged me in here… To get your notebook. Sherlock! It's right there, right bloody there. It's not even out of your reach!" John raised his voice and clenched his fists at his side.
"Yes, John. I know, however I'm busy."
The shorter of the two picked up the notebook and pen from the back of the sink and lay it in Sherlock's outstretched hand. He stood silently for a moment, wondering what was so important to the curly haired boy that he couldn't even get his own pen.
"First of all, Sherlock. What're you doing in the bloody bath? You've got a perfectly good chair in the lounge," John's expression was mixed with vexation and confusion as he waited for a reply.
"Well, I thought you would have noticed by now that I'm using the bathroom as a fortress for my mind palace," Sherlock replied coolly, taking no notice of John's little temper. He wasn't even sure why his boyfriend was getting so riled up in the first place. He had only asked him to get a few things.
"Okay, well fine then. Anyway, what exactly are you so busy thinking about? You've not had a case in weeks and I'd say you were doing nothing, but you don't just do nothing, so what?" John questioned.
"Are you forgetting what day it is a week today, John?" He shrugged his shoulders in reply with impatience seeping out into his actions. Sherlock shook his head slowly him before he continued. "Tsk tsk, love. Surely you're not forgetting our own anniversary. I thought you'd deem this occasion important. I was thinking we could do something romantic, perhaps. It's what normal people seem to like, anyway," Sherlock stated. John's face softened from his furrowed expression and left him looking horribly embarrassed, his cheeks a deep shade of pink.
"Oh, yes. Of course. No, I didn't forget. Nope. No," The shorter teen spluttered.
"I'll pretend you're telling the truth. Now, what do you suggest we do? It'll be a year we've been together, after all. I guess that holds some amount of significance," He finished, and lifted up his hand once more. John looked at the mass of curly locks falling over Sherlock's face, and wondered why he was holding his hand out. Sherlock quickly became impatient and grabbed onto John's hand, pulling him forwards sharply. He stumbled at the edge of the bath before he lost his footing and feel forwards, his arms flailing. He opened his eyes a few seconds later to find the rather startled face of his boyfriend under him, rubbing the back of his head.
"Oh.. Uhm, sorry about that. Although it was your fault, you pulled me," John apologised. He placed a hand at either side of Sherlock's waist and pushed himself up so he was sitting opposite the tall figure. A burst of verbal keysmash came from the face under the mess of black curls. Sherlock pulled himself up and leaned back against the towels after rearranging them.
"John!" He shouted exasperatedly.
"It was your fault, don't blame me!" Deciding it unnecessary to discuss the situation any further, Sherlock moved back to the purpose of their initial conversation. The two shared ideas, the majority of them coming from John and most receiving denial or 'the look' from the other.
Half an hour passed, and John was giving up on any possible progress, when Sherlock's eyes widened and stared into John's brightly.
"Sherlock, what is it? You seemed to have come up with something you like.. A lot by the looks of it. What is it?" The shorter boy inquired curiously.
"Not telling," Sherlock replied in a sing-song voice - a voice he only used when he knew something was going to work out exactly as he planned, or when he had a brilliant idea, according to him anyway . In this case, the voice meant both of these things.
"Oh, come on, Sherl! Tell me!" John pleaded, using his nickname and putting on puppy dog eyes to sweeten him up. The curly haired boy peered at his boyfriend for a few seconds, determining whether revealing his idea was worth it or not.
"No, John," He decided. "You'll just have to wait until next week. I'm sure you can manage."