"Isn't your girlfriend bothered by this kind of things?"
Your voice is quiet and at first John seems not to have heard you at all. He sighs and stops reading the paper, his cup of tea steaming on the counter. He smiles to himself before looking at you, amusement filling his gaze, silently urging you to continue with whatever you have on your mind.
"I mean, it's kind of ridiculous to supply your memory with photoshopped women instead of feeling her body with your own hands, isn't it?" You snuggle into your blanket, feet dangling off the couch. Good thing that John hasn't been sipping his tea like he usually does for now he splutters curses and bickers at the jam that fell from his sandwich. He dropped it centimeters from his mouth, splattering the bloody coloured jelly onto the floor, hardly missing his jumper. Hideous woolly thing that one is but still you can't help but smile at the sight of it in the morning.
You wink innocently at the man, pretending to start flipping through one of the older gardening magazines Mrs. Hudson left you a couple of years ago. If you remember correctly, there is an article on bees keeping somewhere in the middle of it that caught your attention some time ago. You're trying to find the right page while John is muttering under his breath and shooting daggers at your back. Before he can ask you, you pull an envelope with some of the shots you found lastly from your pocket.. You toss it at him, neither turning around, nor caring where it would fall. As easy to predict as it is, a good dozen of the photographs slip and fall straight into the jam puddle, spluttering it onto John's trousers as far as the sound can be trusted.
All John does at that is sigh, not even pretending to be upset about the loss of his newly bought beige piece of clothing. "What are you talking about this time, Sherlock?" His voice starts to take on that infuriating shaking note and you know that it's not one of those moments when you can play with him like you constantly do with others, no matter how jerk-ass that might sound. "You're already so bored that you feel the need to think out gibberish about me and Sarah?"
You turn around, making a sour face at him, pretending not to see the mess your envelope made of the carpet and the lower half of his legs. "Make believing is childish. I just happened to find a few interesting things and thought I'd share them with you."
"Oh my, how generous of you indeed." John is practically gritting his teeth now, banging through cabinets in search of a rug. You roll your eyes, reaching for your violin but halfway changing your mind. You toss paper towels at John the moment he comes into view fuming and before he can say anything you go up-stairs.
Something feels absolutely out of place now but you don't really know why.
A/N: Something different.