Sherlock stood in the living room, his violin positioned against his chin as he played a fast and complex tune. It sliced through the crisp winter air and rang through out the entire flat. He heard a door slam upstairs, but it did not deter him as he took the pitch of the song up another octave.
"Sherlock…"
Sherlock heard the warning in John's voice clear-as-day, but continued to play.
"You're a fucking wanker, you know that?" John snarled as he passed through the living room into the kitchen wearing only his striped pajama top and a pair of worn boxer shorts. Sherlock smirked and set down his violin. "Of course he would quit now…" He heard John mumble from the other room. Instead of apologizing Sherlock only rested his lean figure against the doorway and watched John as he shuffled around the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea. Sherlock watched John's dog tags sway around his neck as he leant down to grab the tea kettle and his shirt rode up to display a sliver a pale skin, which Sherlock soaked in immediately. Not like he would ever see more than that.
John righted himself and set the kettle on the stove, pouring water in,and turning the temperature to high. Sherlock watched him do all of this in a quiet, complacent manner. Turning towards him John stretched and uttered a long moan as his back popped. Then with no disregard for present company John reached down, and did the most animalistic of all actions, in a casual grab and scratch of his genitals. Sherlocks eyes widened drastically and he gave out a small "humph" using all his will power not to raise a nose at this blatant display of disrespect.
"What?" John growled, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Sherlock.
"That was totally uncalled for."
"Just like your violin playing at 3 in the morning?"
"My violin playing is music, that was just rude."
"Excuse me?"
Sherlock shook his head. "You heard me."
John laughed suddenly, but that grin quickly turned feral as the full form of what was Dr. John Watson at 5 foot 8" backed up his 6 foot 2" flatmate into the opposite wall. "I don't know about you," John said in a low voice that automatically gave Sherlock shivers as John pressed into his personal space, "But I would definitely call that 'the pot calling the kettle black', wouldn't you agree?" Sherlock glared at John. "I quite honestly don't know what you mean," He said in a smooth voice, knowing that he was egging on a growing storm. John only smirked back. This was definitely uncharacteristic for him, Sherlock thought with slight worry but more with fascination. How far could he push this dangerous, morning John?
"Find me one person," John hissed, "Who wouldn't describe Sherlock Holmes, as arrogant, conceded, petty, and above all rude in any context?"
"Possibly the same one who wouldn't expect more civil decency out of a solider of the crown," Sherlock cooed menacingly as he wrapped John's dog tags around his index finger, pulling John slightly closer, testing the waters. John glanced at his tags wrapped up in Sherlock's grip, and then back at Sherlock, for a moment Sherlock thought he caught John's gaze linger on his lips.
"You get whatever you want all the fucking time, with no one to stop you. Would turn a person into a bugger," John breathed. Sherlock smiled genuinely at this and then took his chance as he yanked John closer with the chain still in his grasp.
"What can I say?" Sherlock hummed into John's ear. "Guess I'm just a rude boy."
"Time to teach you a lesson then, eh?" John said in a deep voice. Sherlock's reply caught in his throat when John's knee came in contact with his arousal and John just smirked again as he dove in to shut this rude boy up once and for all