Sometimes, John has to remind Sherlock to act human.
"John!" Sherlock yells, stumbling out of the bathroom door and around the corner to the living room where a bemused John sits, typing slowly on his laptop.
"What -" John stops short when he realizes Sherlock has nothing (literally, nothing) on.
Sherlock seems to be unaware that he is stark naked and dripping wet all over the living room floor. "Have you seen my towel?"
John blushes and quickly (semi)covers his eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever get the imagine of (that) quite out of his mind. "Downstairs. Laundry room," he mumbles, hoping to end this conversation as fast as possible.
Sherlock quickly turns around towards the door to their flat, but John grabs him by the shoulders before he can go downstairs. "No." John says sharply. "You are not going to be giving Mrs. Hudson a heart attack today, not on my watch."
John become briefly aware that he's grabbing his naked flatmate's shoulder, and that they're standing inches apart. This doesn't seem to phase Sherlock at all.
"Just... Wait here..." John darts away before he can look at anything important and runs downstairs. He returns a a few minutes later with fresh towels, only to find that Sherlock is sitting (still naked) in his chair. "No. Get up."
"Why?"
John is baffled as to why Sherlock would need an explanation. "Because I don't want your wet arse on my chair."
This seems reasonable to Sherlock, who stands up and strides across the room in two quick steps, takes the towels from his bewildered flatmate's hand, and strides back towards the bathroom.
The worst part (in John's mind) is that he doesn't even say thanks.
