Title: He Could Argue Still

Summary: There's very little that can daunt John and Sherlock.

Notes: For Cruelest_month's 2010 fandom stocking. Believe it or not, this story was inspired by the episode of Animaniacs that my daughter was watching...

John yawned.

"Do cover your mouth when you do that," Sherlock snapped with disdain. "I prefer not looking at your tonsils at the moment."

"You didn't mind so much last night."

"I was trying to taste them, not look at them."

"That's beside the point, which is that I would cover my mouth if my hands were free."

"True."

"Which reminds me, can I get a week off from being tied up? My wrists are chafed and it's aggravating."

"I'll think about it."

There was a wordless shout from the other end of the room.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked, turning a politely inquisitive glance at the man stalking toward him.

"Do you two ever shut up?" the man screamed, his long hair flying around his face.

"John, what is this imbecile on about?"

"I think we're supposed to be frightened of him," John said, stifling another yawn.

"Really?" Sherlock asked, just as their captor punched him. Blinking, Sherlock just looked at him. "That's supposed to be frightening? You hit me harder last month."

"What? You mean after you told Harry that Clara would never take her back and she should just drink herself to death?"

"No, that was two months ago. I meant last month in bed."

John flushed. "Well, that was a special occasion."

Smirking, Sherlock flicked an eyebrow at him. "It certainly was."

"Shut up!" He stepped past Sherlock and punched John in the stomach.

John grunted, then shook his head. "That reminds me..."

"That you were going to buy some more of that tea for me?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"You're on your own there. No, I need to call Robin about that local rugby he promised I could play."

Their captor punched him again and John curled around his stomach for a moment before looking up. "By the way," he said, voice quiet. "There is one thing I probably should have mentioned."

The other man took an involuntary step back at the look on John's face. "What?"

"Sherlock really really hates it when anyone touches me."

The man had just enough time to look startled before Sherlock hit him over the head with a chair and he went down like a rock.

"I win," Sherlock said as he swiftly cut through John's ropes with a thin file.

"Sticking a file up your sleeve is cheating," John insisted. "I almost had my hands free the old-fashioned way."

"The rules didn't say anything about no tools. Besides, did you actually want him to hit you a few more times?"

"I suppose not," John said, rubbing his wrists. "But I still think it's cheating because I didn't know you were bringing a tool."

Sherlock huffed. "Fine, you can bring whatever you like next time."

With a slam, the door banged open and what looked like half of Scotland Yard poured in and skidded to a halt. Lestrade-in the lead-stared at them and the man on the floor and John and Sherlock.

"There you are," Sherlock said. "I texted you over an hour ago."

"Bloody hell," Lestrade said. "Your text said 'Fish tank had only four guppies.'"

Brushing some dirt off his sleeve, John shrugged. "In any case, you're here and we're fine. And here's the murderer. All's well that ends well."

Lestrade shook his head. "You know, John, I remember when being kidnapped and tied up upset you for at least a few hours. I think Sherlock's having a bad effect on you."

John grinned. "I don't know. I'm the one who came up with the idea of annoying criminals as a deliberate distraction. So it could be argued I'm having a bad effect on Sherlock."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock said. "Let's go home. I've had an excellent idea about how to restrain you during sex that doesn't involve straining your sore wrists."

Lestrade clapped his hands over his ears. "I don't need to know that!"

Torn between laughing and embarrassment, John tugged Sherlock's arm. "Let's go before we traumatize Lestrade for life."

-end-