Day 2
I'm back on the couch when John gets up in the morning to go to the clinic. Dull. Now I will begin my experiment. He shuffles into the kitchen to make his tea and toast with jam. I slip quietly into the kitchen and come up right behind him as he digs in the fridge for his jam and the milk. He turns around right into me, causing him to drop the jam, though I catch it easily. It would not do to let him lose his jam. I wouldn't want to face his wrath so early in the morning.
"Sherlock!" He gasps. "Could you warn me next time?!" His eyes are wide and his breathing has quickened, from shock most likely.
"Ears." I reply quietly. He stares at my face for some time before replying.
"What?" He asks. I can feel his breath mixing with mine as he looks up at me. His face is so close to mine. His eyes glance quickly to my lips before reaching back up to my eyes. Interesting.
"I was coming to get my ears from the fridge. Experiment I'm doing." I reply, still standing right in front of him. I'm not even touching him, but it seems to have an effect.
"Ears. Erm. Right. Of course." How eloquently put John. I step back just enough to let him pass though he has to brush me in the process. He goes to make his toast before realizing I still have his jam. He comes back to get it brushing my fingers as he does so. He practically yanks his hand back with the jar, though I myself felt some sort of tingle so I must have just shocked him.
By the time he comes home from the clinic I have both of our chairs filled with ears and some pig organs. I thought about just stacking books in them, but he could easily move them. He is less likely to touch the ears or organs.
"Sherlock! What?! What is that? Are those ears? And.. What? In my chair! Sherlock that is my chair!" He is getting rather red in the face.
"Yes. Well, experiment John."
"Experi…! Sherlock! We've talked about this. You keep bloody heads in the fridge and eyes in the microwave. And have put dead cats in the bathtub. I put up with all of your bloody antics! But my chair Sherlock!"
"Not just your chair John. Mine is occupied as well. Need to test the differences between the two."
"I don't bloody care if it was a matter of life or death! That's my chair! You will clean it up."
"Of course." As soon as the words leave my mouth I see him visibly deflate. "When I'm done." Ah yes. Tension immediately flows back into him.
"No Sherlock now!"
"Busy." I reply. He huffs and stomps into the kitchen to make tea. "Sugar." I call out to him.
"Make your own damn tea!" He calls back. Sigh. He does get a bit dramatic.
Before he comes back with his tea I sprawl out on the sofa. When his tea is made he comes back into the room glances longingly at his chair then comes over to the sofa before he notices I've taken up the whole sofa.
"No. Sherlock. I'm not in the mood. You better move now." I slip my feet off the couch long enough for him to sit then swiftly place them back on his lap. "Sherlock! What are you doing? No. Absolutely not. Get your bloody feet off of my lap!" Interesting. His face is slightly red, though that could be from yelling so much. But it's only a slight flush. He attempts to throw my legs off of him but I keep them firmly in place. He sighs, reaches for the remote on the coffee table and turns on the Television.
After a while I begin to feel the warmth of his body seeping into my feet and calves. He must be warmer than usual. That's interesting data. After another dull show I realize he has placed his hand on my ankle and his thumb is rubbing gently over my Medial Malleolus. When did that happen? How did I not notice. It's actually comforting, but of course that's supposedly the effect of physical contact in general. This is odd; I have never actually felt the comfort of physical contact, only the irritation. Maybe it's just my ankle. I will have to analyze this reaction later, for now I must focus on John. Why is he stroking my ankle? He may not realize he is doing it. I watch him for a while as he watches the television. He wears a soft smile as he strokes my ankle. I cannot tell if the smile is the result of watching television or rubbing my ankle.