Disclaimer: Please don't sue unless u want an angry cat. Not mine, I'm just borrowing them!
...
Sherlock shifted in his chair, making the soft leather creak and squeak against the brush of his skin. Bloody transport. While trying to focus his brain on the case at hand, his body had decided to betray him in the most irritatingly tempting way.
Pulse, quickened. Breathing, slightly shallow. Blood pounding through his ears, distractingly whooshing. Skin, humming.
John dumped his steaming mug onto the wooden table & shoved aside the folded newspaper with his plate. He plonked himself down unceremoniously onto the wooden chair, his untied dressing gown flowing over the sides like an artist's impression of a waterfall. The collar was scrunched down, the pale skin of John's neck & the sharp military point of his soft, still damp silvering hair slightly messy in his haste to dress. A drop of water chose that exact moment to fall from the point of his hairline, tracing along the soft, warm skin and leaving a tiny trail of goosebumps in its wake before disappearing into the soft, fluffy terry cloth of John's robe.
Sherlock realised belatedly that he was suddenly incredibly irrationally jealous of a droplet of water.
His mind drifted to the room in his mind palace which contained all of his information about John - he closed his eyes as the imagined warmth of his lips pressing to that spot made his slightly dry lips tingle as he took an involuntary breath in, his nose recalling the notes of fresh soap, shaving cream & that unique scent that he now recognised as home.
His eyes flew open at the harsh scrape of John's chair against the wooden floor as he pulled his chair closer to the table & picked up a piece of toast. What on EARTH was he doing?
Sherlock marvelled anew at the sudden realisation that he didn't have to curb those thoughts any longer but old habits were hard to break, he reasoned frustratedly. Placing his tea to one side, he slowly rose, his own silk robe sweeping grandly around his expensive brushed cotton pyjamas as he padded his way, barefoot, to John.
John had lowered his head to read the folded up newspaper laid out on the table in front of him but felt the slight movement of air that indicated movement nearby.
"Want a piece?", he said around a mouthful of toast, not even lifting his eyes from the page. Sherlock's warm, chapped lips on the nape of his neck just beneath his hairline made him shiver.
"Not of the toast," Sherlock purred, alternately kissing & nuzzling John's neck as John relaxed & leaned back into Sherlock as his fingers began kneeling the taught muscles beneath the shoulders of John's dressing gown as John softened further, eyes drifting from the page & closing with pleasure.
"I'd ask what I did that warranted this but with you I've learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth," John responded with an amused grin.
"I got jealous of a drop of water," Sherlock responded with an earnestness that the words he spoke did not warrant. John laughed gently, his shoulders moving up & down under Sherlock's still-kneading fingers. Sherlock pulled back in mock offence as John shook his head softly. "Problem?"
"Nope," he breathed as his chuckle faded softly around his words. "Whatever shakes your boat, you mad, gorgeous bastard!"
Sherlock resumed his grazing kisses.
"Good. Because I had no intention of stopping, this bit of skin right here," he whispered, running a gentle finger down a particularly tight tendon, "Tastes like sunshine."
John scrunched his eyebrows.
"Eh? That... Makes no sense to me."
Sherlock nuzzled his nose along the same spot.
"I could explain the chemistry of it to you but I'd rather just show you."
"Wow, something the great Sherlock Holmes would rather do than correct someone!", John mocked warmly which was responded to by a gentle smack on his bicep and a pout.
"Oh do be quiet, John. Our olfactory senses are the most important for this type of activity."
John grinned.
"Oh? And what would that be?"
Sherlock straightened and loomed over John's head as John tilted his chin up to meet Sherlock just as Sherlock kissed John upside down. Pulling away, John twisted in his seat to face Sherlock, gently playing with the loose sides of his silk robe.
"No cases this morning then?"
"Lestrade is being useless as usual. Nothing above a 3."
John smiled.
"Good news for me then. Mind if we relocate to a slightly comfier piece of furniture which might not snap under our combined weight?"
Sherlock laughed and John could see the cogs begin turning in his head.
"Oh, no... Bedroom. Now. Before you start contemplating testing the tensile strength of every piece of furniture in the flat!" John moaned as he stood & began pulling Sherlock away from the dining table & along the hall as Sherlock followed trying to wrap his long arms around John from behind, protesting about an insufficient set of data.