For the past few weeks, Sherlock had been pretty much ignoring his flatmate, in pursuit of a cold case which was apparently requiring rather a lot of annoyed, mostly silent thinking. John didn't mind for the first few days, but the tense silence mixed with atonal violin playing, and random loneliness when Sherlock went storming out, was getting to him. John was also beginning to think he might have come down with something so he was certainly in no mood to put up with an annoying dick. Sherlock came bursting in, ecstatic about the resolution of his case, expecting John to drop everything and be interested even though he'd been left out.
"John! The fireman! Brilliant!"
"Sod off, Sherlock, you lunatic! You almost made me drop my tea!" Sherlock froze in surprise at John's hostility.
"... John?"
"What?" He stared at the irritable doctor for a moment before deciding to try and wait out his flatmate's anger. Normally, John could never stay mad at him long.
"Nothing. Nevermind. Is there more tea?" John was usually rather pleased when he got Sherlock to ingest something.
"I doubt it. Check yourself." Well, then.
*** two days later ***
Sherlock heard John gasp as he stepped outside, so he strolled down to the find him standing just outside the door, basking the humidity and heat.
"John… this may be the hottest day of summer. Why do you look so bloody happy about it? You haven't looked this cheerful all week."
"I guess I didn't realize how cold I was in the flat. The warmth is so solid."
"Hm. Why did you step outside in the first place?"
"Just a whim. I've been chatting with Mrs. Hudson, and decided to check the weather before coming back upstairs… I've been inside for days."
"You're wearing a t-shirt and jeans…" John turned around in surprise.
"So?"
"You never dress like that if you're going somewhere."
John had his hands on his hips now. "Don't you ever listen? I said I hadn't planned to."
"Hm. Where's Mrs. Hudson?"
"Wha - ? Watching telly. Why?"
"Come back in." John sighed in complete exasperation, but did as he was told, stepping into the hall. Sherlock reached around him at shut the door as John started to turn and walk upstairs. The doctor started to ask why Sherlock asked about Mrs. Hudson, but suddenly found himself yanked backwards against his flatmate's chest.
"Er - ?"
"Curious."
"What?"
"I was curious. How could you fail to notice the flat's temperature despite being in far less warming clothing than normal? I'm comparing our body temperatures, of course. This is faster than thermometers." He pressed bare toes against the back of John's foot. "Cold?"
"Eh, no. Can't you let go now?" Sherlock made a noncommittal noise.
"Why were you so much more appreciative of the heat when my natural body temperature is lower than yours? … Odd."
"I've been trying to be irritated with you, ya know. This is not helping."
"I see."
"... No you don't." Sherlock humphed. "I know I've never stayed mad at you this long, but I feel I've earned this grudge."
"How so?" John was distracted from answering by the fact that Sherlock was now resting his chin on top of his little blogger's head. "John?"
"Oh, er, sorry. Anyway… Last week. You spent a very long time being even more distant, cold, and annoying as hell than usual - and I want to be mad about it!" Sherlock spun him around.
"Why?" he demanded.
"Because I must be crazy to never be mad at you!" Sherlock's face fell subtly.
"I'm well aware that your tolerance isn't normal, John, but I had gotten used to it. Gotten tired of me at last?" The detective asked very calmly, but there was pain behind the words. John's eyes widened guiltily. Sometimes he forgot Sherlock didn't have any sort of relationship other than antagonizing people less intelligent than himself. He laid a hand Sherlock's arm.
"No. I have definitely not gotten tired of you!" he said firmly. "Never." Sherlock grinned.
"Are you done being angry, then? You seem so simple and straightforward, John, and then sometimes I realize how little I understand you… Shall we check the website?"
"Let's go."