Pre reichenbach.
'Sherlock, why are there toes in my jam jar?'' John bellowed through eagerly waiting for the answer he knew was going to 'its an experiment'
'Its an experiment, John!' John rolled his eyes and looked for something other than toes to spread on his toast. There hadn't been a case for days, he was surprised Sherlock hadn't broken down yet. Although, there was yesterday when he sat in the arm chair, knees tucked in to his chest, and his blue dressing gown resting delicately on his icy pale flesh, his arms covering his face and his light curls bouncing over them. Oh, jesus John. Stop thinking like that, but he couldn't help a faint wiry smile appearing on his face, which to John's embarrassment Sherlock noticed.
'What are you smiling about?' He questioned him, it was like being in an interrogation room the way he looked at him. His eyes kept twinkling lightly in the morning sun peering through the curtains.
'Oh,um nothing. Just a memory' He mumbled, under the puff of his breathe 'Fancy a coffee?' He said over his shoulder as he wandered off back in to the kitchen.
'I'm bored.' Sherlock said suddenly 'This is absolutely tedious. What are the murderers of London playing at? It's not like they're running out of vict-'
'Sherlock' John exclaimed. 'A normal person would think that was good? You know no one has died.'
'John, you and i both know i'm not entirely ordinary.' He replied, a slight bitter tone trembled in his voice. He bounced out the chair to join John in the kitchen. John had still made Sherlock a coffee, just in case he wanted one. Probably didn't. Hard to please, he was. He glanced over at John catching his eye, he really did love that jumper. Sherlock noticed John had made him to coffee even though no gesture was made to imply he wanted one, he took it any way and brushed John's pasty white hands, they felt warm it may just have been the coffee though.
John sat down at the table in front of his laptop and began to type, very...slowly. Every time he typed in one letter, he had to search for the next. Sherlock scoffed, but rested against the kitchen side and watched him. Sherlock was so graceful, whatever step he took he did not fumble nor did he trip. He was angel like, so John thought. Sometimes, he would just want to shut him up mid way through one of his rambles, that no one is actually paying attention to, and just lay a kiss one his plump pink lips. For now, though, he'd enjoy the domestics and the company of Sherlock.
Sherlock's phone made some strange erotic sound, still not changed it from when 'The Woman' was around.
'John we have a case, Lestrade text. Two bullet wounds to the back of the head, the autopsy report claims that the gun was not but 5mm. This sounds excellent. Hurry.' Sherlock grabbed his big black boat from over the chair and slung around his shoulder. Picking up him scarf he murmured.
John smiled as he left the room, picking his jack up slowly and strode out.
'Another case to solved' he giggled as he shut the door of 221B.