Feel free to request more Fics 3
The kettle whistled just as John strolled back into the kitchen. He took it off the heat and pulled a mug out from the cupboard, stopping to rummage through his various boxes of tea. He settled for a simple citrus; it rather seemed like a citrus day for some reason.
He poured the hot water from the kettle into his mug and dunked in his tea bag, heading for the couch.
Just as he slid out of the kitchen and into the sitting area, Sherlock strode up the stairs and walked contently into the room.
"Someone's chipper," John commented, raising an eyebrow as Sherlock threw off his scarf in a flurry and unbuttoned his coat.
"This case John... It's turning out to be quite..." Sherlock paused, searching for an appropriate word, "Amusing."
John nodded and moved around Sherlock, still determined on reaching his destination of the couch.
Sherlock didn't let him pass do easily though.
"What's that," Sherlock breathed, inhaling a few short huffs followed by a long one, moving his head up and down.
"Tea?" John suggested, holding up his mug.
"Obviously. But you usually drink black tea... Occasionally green tea but only when you've had a pleasant day and are looking for something light."
John raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Of course Sherlock would have memorized John's tea drinking schedule...
The two men were standing a couple of feet away from each, but Sherlock closed that gap in minutes.
He had his hands clasped around John's who held the mug tight.
"What are you-"
"Shh."
He brought his face down to the mug and inhaled the scent.
"Orange... Is that a hint of lavender?" Sherlock muttered as he held his face closer and closer to the tea.
John tried to refrain from hitching his breath as Sherlock stepped even closer to him, their bodies inches apart. He pulled his and Johns hands that held the mug up to his face were he took a small sip, licking his lips after he'd swallowed.
Even after he'd tried it, he held their hands up to his face still as he considered the taste.
"Sherlock-" John started, face flushing pink.
"Lavender. I was right," Sherlock said quickly, before letting go of Johns hands and turning out the door, walking swiftly up to his bedroom.
John stood their alone in the sitting room, his hands still holding the mug out where Sherlock had stood.
He moved slowly over to the couch and inspected the mug, noticing the small mark on the glass where Sherlocks mouth had been.
He sighed and shook his head as he gently took a sip.
/It was probably nothing./