221B Baker Street. Nine P.M.

Mrs. Hudson is in her flat but you can hear the crap telly from John's bedroom. He tries to ignore it but can't, despite Sherlock's pawing at his t-shirt.

"John," Sherlock whispers. "John."

John looks up from his book (which is rather boring) and answers, "Sherlock." in the same volume. He flips another page.

They've decided to go to bed early tonight. They've had a spectacularly long week. Two murders. An insane asylum. A missing child. Lestrade had finally forbid them to come in until Monday.

So naturally, Sherlock was bored.

Sherlock sighs and brings his head to the crook of John's neck. His partner tries to ignore it (just like Mrs. Hudson's telly) but smiles lightly when Sherlock presses a sweet kiss to his collar bone.

"John, I'm bored." Sherlock finalizes.

John rolls his eyes. "Then go to bed. You're exhausted."

Sherlock shakes his head and his lips swiftly rubs back and forth across John's skin. He's at the hollow of his neck now. He's even psychically moving himself on top of John just to get a proper snog in.

The shorter man chuckles deeply. "Sherlock….." he says. "Sherlock, I'm serious."

"So am I," he replies, his voice husky.

John growls. There's no use in rejecting him any more. He finally let's the forgotten piece of literature fall to the floor of Sherlock's bedroom and rolls his head while searching for Sherlock's mouth.

He finds it. He holds the side of his face, cradling his cheek with his rugged palm. Sherlock falls completely silent to John's kiss as he takes over, guiding his mouth with his own.

John takes a deep breath as Sherlock pulls away. But John's face rests against his cheek still. They don't say anything; just look at each other in a way that makes Sherlock's stomach do Olympic flips. John takes his hand to grip his chin and continues to peck him tenderly.

Sherlock ends up laughing in the midst of it all, completely taken aback by John's change of pace. He's now pushed him plush against the mattress, defying any space between them. John laughs too, feeling much like a teenager again.

Finally John presses his mouth against the base of Sherlock's neck and he continues to trail his way up until he reaches Sherlock's hairline. He can feel Sherlock arch in his grasp and a sharp intake of breath is obvious as he holds John closer to him.

It is now 9:15 P.M at Baker Street. John can't hear the buzzing of Mrs. Hudson's television anymore.