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When John got back from escorting Rose to the train station Mycroft was just leaving. He had no idea what the brothers had discussed, but it had obviously upset Sherlock because he refused to speak and buried himself in a rather explosive experiment. John just let him be, knowing better than to try and interfere when Sherlock was in a Mycroft induced huff. His mood hadn't improved by the time John went to bed, and he got the violin out a little after one am. It wouldn't have been so bad if he had actually played it rather than just making it scream, and at two John moved up to his bedroom in an attempt to dampen the noise with more space; by three thirty he had had enough.

"Sherlock Holmes!" He bellowed, waiting for his partner to turn and acknowledge his presence before continuing. "If you stop that god-awful screeching and play an actual melody of some sort for the rest of the night, I will blow you in the bathroom at Scotland Yard the next time Anderson pisses you off." Sherlock froze, blinking at John with a blank expression for several long moments; John reveled in the silence, however temporary it might be. Eventually Sherlock broke the stillness, not by speaking but by lifting his bow and entering into a beautiful rendition of Bruch's Violin Concerto.

John smiled. "Thank you." Sherlock nodded his head once and John went back upstairs, satisfied that he had gotten his point across.

Thankfully Sherlock's mood was broken the next morning when he found a small article in the back of the newspaper describing what he was sure was the latest in a string of hitherto unconnected murders. Unfortunately, it wasn't one of Lestrade's cases and the DI to whom it belonged was not one of Holmes' fans. To make matters worse, Anderson was the medical examiner on duty and had ruled accidental death. The resulting argument was truly one for the record books, and John stayed out of it as much as he could, not having anything pertinent to add and knowing that it would be easier to keep the two from resorting to violence if he wasn't involved himself. Finally, once both men had digressed to personal insults and Sherlock looked like he was seconds away from either screaming or throwing a punch, John took hold of his friend's arm and gently pulled him away.

John walked silently, but with an obvious purpose. Sherlock, too, stayed quiet, but he was still brooding and was holding his tongue merely because he didn't want other people to hear what he wanted to say to his partner; the detective honestly didn't know what his doctor was doing, but he was too agitated to figure it out and simply followed his friend. Watson veered off the main hallway and steered them through a maze of back corridors before he found a small bathroom that no one ever used. He ushered Sherlock in first before stopping to make sure that the door was locked behind them.

As soon as the door was shut, the words that Sherlock had been holding back began to spill out. "Dear God, how can one man be such a colossal idiot? Accidental death? That's one of the most absurd things I've ever heard! That man was murdered, John, I know it! You believe me don't you?" On that last question Sherlock's voice dropped down to barely above a whisper.

John nodded. "Of course I believe you, Sherlock. But unfortunately that isn't going to change anybody else's mind." Recognizing Sherlock's flushed cheeks as a sign that the man was over heating, he slipped the overcoat off his shoulder and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. Turning back to Sherlock, he placed his hands on his friend's shoulders and pushed until he was pressed against the wall. "Sherlock, relax. I know that you're right, but there's nothing that either of us can do to change what's going on. Anderson is too stubborn to admit that you're right on this one, and Stanton isn't going to open the case without official confirmation. It's not you're fault that they won't listen to you." Sherlock just nodded, obviously hating the situation but willing to acknowledge that John was right.

John smiled and leaned forward to kiss his friend. Sherlock kissed back, but was obviously uncertain of what was going on. John continued to kiss him, lazily licking into his mouth, and didn't pull away until Sherlock had completely relaxed and was no longer concerned about where they were. John gave him one last kiss before dropping easily to his knees.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Sherlock asked, his voice breathy but concerned.

John smirked. "Well, last night you kept up your end of the bargain, so now it's my turn to keep up mine."

"I thought you were exaggerating," he answered shakily. "Y-you don't have to do it."

He smiled and opened up his friend's trousers. "But I really want to." Before Sherlock had the chance to say anything John leaned in and lapped at his partner's already hardening cock. Sherlock let out a breathy almost moan and let his head fall back against the wall.

John worked his mouth and hands in tandem, quickly bringing Sherlock fully erect. He had no intention of drawing it out and soon had his friend gasping for breath. He bobbed his head, taking in as much as he could while sucking and using his tongue to tease the head. Before too long, Sherlock was biting his hand as he came. John, still on his knees, opened his trousers and began working his own cock. Sherlock, his mouth hanging open and his skin flushed, watched him with wide eyes. John smirked up at him, more than a little pleased at how the situation had worked out. After he finished he cleaned them both up with toilet paper before standing in front of Sherlock, his hands placed possessively on his friend's narrow waist.

"So, we have two options," John said, his voice purposefully soothing. "We could go back and you can keep arguing with Anderson and Stanton until they either hit you or figure out a plausible reason to arrest us, or we can go home and wait for them to realize that they need you and call for your help. It's completely up to you."

"Let's go home," Sherlock said quietly, half afraid that John would take this as an admission of defeat.

John just smiled. "Alright; we'll stop for lunch on the way." The two shared a kiss before leaving, both men more than pleased with how the morning had gone.

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