John shuffled into the cab behind the tall detective feeling stressed and annoyed. Sherlock had been absolutely unbearable. That was probably because this case had tensions running high with everyone. It all somehow started with Anderson spilling coffee on the evidence. Typical. John thought. Trust Anderson to fuck things up. The doctor and the detective sat in the back of the sticky cab, the silence ringing in their ears. John felt like he should've said something, but he didn't trust himself not to make things even more awkward. Besides, John looked over at Sherlock. He'd probably just snap at me for saying something stupid. Sherlock was sitting in the most peculiar position with his face resting in his hands, his elbows between his legs so that his sharp knees jutted to the side and collided with John's. After what was probably about ten minutes, but felt like ten hours, the cab pulled up in front of 221. Sherlock payed the cabbie and stepped out of the car swiftly and did something highly unexpected and, frankly, quite out of character. He held open the door with one hand and the other, he offered to John. John took Sherlock's extended hand, shooting him a questioning look when Sherlock didn't release it. All the way up to 221B and into the living room their hands stayed glued together. They had to release their grip on each other to take off their coats and toe off their shoes, but one look at Sherlock told John he wanted to continue their hand holding. John realized neither of them had said a thing since they were in the cab. He sat down on the sofa and motioned for Sherlock to join him. Sherlock practically skipped over to the sofa and plopped down next to him, the air hissing out of the sofa with his sudden weight. Sherlock grabbed John's hand before the army doctor could say anything. Not that he was complaining. Certainly not. "Alright." John looked at Sherlock sternly. "What's going on? I mean there must be /something/ Bo-" he was interrupted by Sherlock planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. For a while, they just sat in silence not even looking at each other.
"Bit not good?" Sherlock said, barely over a whisper when John finally looked at him. At first Sherlock thought John was going to scream at him, but suddenly his face cracked into a goofy smile and they both burst out laughing. They shook with ceaseless mirth for nearly five minutes until they looked at each other again, and their laughter died down. "This time," John whispered, leaning closer to Sherlock. "It's actually quite good." They both fell into the kiss while laughing again. It was the strangest yet best thing ever. They were laughing into each others mouths while they clumsily attempted to kiss. Finally they stopped laughing and Sherlock grabbed the back of John's neck to deepen the now-serious kiss. They seemed to come to a nonverbal agreement and pulled apart, simultaneously breathing in. John locked an arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled them both down to lay on the couch.
"You prove to be quite the distraction." Sherlock said to John. They stared into one another's eyes.
"Whoops!" John said. They laughed.