"Sherlock."
Sherlock didn't flinch on the sofa. Didn't even blink, the bastard.
"Sherlock!" John repeated, more insistently.
Nope. Nothing.
John resisted the urge to swear, instead rolling the newspaper and launching it in the lanky detective's direction.
"Sherlock!"
The infuriatingly man blinked and turned his head towards the kitchen and his flatmate.
"John." he responded calmly.
The doctor rolled his eyes and took a long breath before speaking.
"Sherlock", he began, sounding almost calm but feeling murderous, "Sherlock." OK, that sounded calmer. John sat down on his armchair and leant his elbows on his knees, facing Sherlock who had deigned to follow him with his own eyes.
"You remember the other day when I asked you to move that... that thing from the top shelf of the freezer? I mean, I put up with a lot of weird stuff, Sherlock. Heads in the fridge; eyeballs in the microwave; fingers in the milk..." John shuddered at that memory. Seeing a finger land on his cornflakes was enough to put him off a certain tall, dark Holmes!
Sherlock blinked. And John swore that that single blink said "What are you talking about, John?", except, of course, a blink can't speak, can it?
"The testicle, Sherlock. That god damned fucking human testicle?" John was losing it now.
And Sherlock? Well, he just fucking blinked.