"Sherlock," Watson called, his tongue rolling over his lips as he dug through the refrigerator in a home the pair had just broken into. The furniture there was a deep dark brown, the walls a calming light and dark yellow stripe in a relaxing vertical pattern.
"Yes, Watson?" the detective replied. He lifted up a camera that looked to be very old fashioned. He turned and twisted it in his hands, unfamiliar with the technology. Because Watson and Sherlock inhabited the year 2121 they had the all-intensive Wizard hand held device to do all their daily tasks, including taking photographs.
"There doesn't seem to be any chocolate cake in this fridge," Watson informed his partner. He really wanted some chocolate cake and his tongue continued to lick his lips impatiently.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Sherlock groaned, uninterested in Watson's craving for chocolate cake. They were in this home to investigate the cause of the robotic uprising, not eat sweets.
Watson gave up looking for chocolate cake. He moved into the living room where Sherlock was. He then started licking his lips again. But this time he was craving Sherlock's butt, not chocolate cake. Because Watson is very gay for Sherlock.
Sherlock lifted the camera up to Watson, thrusting the flash mechanism at his face.
"Watch it!" Watson exclaimed, snapping out of his gay lust stupor.
"This may hold secrets as to how we can stop the robots from taking over the world!" Sherlock insisted, glancing inside the bulb again. "If you haven't forgotten Watson that is why we are here."
"I remember," he groaned, turning back around. He started glancing at the walls, investigating the unfamiliar paintings. "I don't see how the secret we're looking for could be found in who evers house this is. I have a soccer game to be practicing for."
"Are you mad, Watson?" Sherlock deposited of the camera at last, moving closer to his friend. Watson's heart skipped a beat in his chest. "You do realize the team you're playing against in the world FIFA championship is a team of robots, right?"
"Yes I know," Watson stuttered, still taken aback by the sudden closeness. If only he had what it took to kiss the detective right then and there.
"We need to find clues on how to stop them, Watson. Or else they'll take over the world."
"Perhaps all we need to do to defeat them entirely is to defeat them at the soccer game?" Watson muttered in passing, still distracted with his attraction to his partner to really listen to what he's saying.
"Watson!" Sherlock cried out, a grin spreading on his face. "You're a genius!"
"I am?" He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. "I mean. I am!" After staring at his friend for a moment he spoke once more. "Why am I a genius?"
'The FIFA game!" Sherlock cried, pulling away from Watson and rushing out of the home. "It's genius! That's the secret! You're magnificent, Watson. I could kiss you!"
As the door slammed shut after Sherlock's leave, Watson took a moment to himself and glanced around the home again.
"Sometimes I wish you would."
With a sigh he moved towards the door, rubbing a brow and once again, licking his lips.