"Get me some." The voice of John's temperamental flatmate commanded from the doorway to the kitchen.
"No." John replied perhaps a little to jovially as he stirred his black coffee.
"John!" The world's only consulting detective whined plodding closer to John's place by the counter top. "I need some!"
John turned, cup in hand, to face Sherlock. "Nope." He popped moving around the other side of the table to get further away from the annoyance that is Sherlock Holmes.
It had been months since their last case which involved far too much fire for John's liking and Sherlock was becoming increasingly insufferable. Shooting the wall had become boring, taking smaller cases was tedious and shopping was almost taboo. John was likening living with him to have a five year old child constantly at his elbow showing him things and whining for him to take him places. That's what it seemed like most days anyway.
A dramatic sigh sounded from the kitchen as John made himself comfortable in his chair with the paper in his hands and the TV giving the nice background noise of Radio 2. Sherlock flounced into the room and fell into a crouch beside John's chair. "John…" He began. John continued to read his paper as if Sherlock weren't even there. This aggravated the detective more than he cared to admit. "John!" Nothing. Not even a twitch. Well, John did turn the page in his paper settling on a more gripping story about climate change and Sherlock quite deliberately pushed into his personal space, stole the remote control from the coffee table and turned off the TV. He then snatched the paper from John's hands and continued to crouch and stare at John's exasperated expression.
"What is it, Sherlock? Already said 'no' and I'm not changing my mind." Sherlock continued to stare stubbornly into John's eyes and John very determinedly held his gaze.
Sherlock sighed a long suffering sigh and his head fell heavily onto John's shoulder. This strange contact shocked and baffled the army doctor and he stared wide eyed at the place where his flatmate's head had once been. "Am I going to have to beg?" The detective muttered reluctantly from his place on John's shoulder.
"No," He cleared his throat awkwardly. "No, of course you aren't, because the answer would still be 'no'."
Sherlock jumped up suddenly with a 'damn!' and John jumped in his seat in fright, caught unawares once again.
John sighed and rubbed his forehead in despair closing his eyes and counting to ten. "Sherlock," He said finally. "Have you checked your website recently?"
"Ten minutes and fourteen seconds ago but it couldn't hurt to check again." The last part was said as he lunged across the room towards John's laptop.
John winced as the detectives hands collided with it and not for the first time that day wondered why on earth put up with this shit.