Chapter Five – A Step in the Right Direction

Two more days went by and Sherlock was on edge, a very unusual situation for him. He was never on edge. He had a small range of emotions – he could be ecstatic, bored, intrigued, annoyed or sarcastic. Well, it did turn out he was also able to be completely and utterly smitten. With John. John, who had been giving him intermittent spikes of warmth and pleasure the past two days and Sherlock was waiting for each new thing the other man would do.

John would make him tea, as usual, but would hand him his cup and let his fingers linger over Sherlock's. He almost completely stopped using his own chair, sitting on the couch. If Sherlock was already there, he'd sit close enough for their thighs to touch and allow Sherlock to throw an arm around his shoulders. If Sherlock sat down after him, but not as close (which he only tried once just to see what would happen) John would scoot closer to him. John found reasons to brush past him throughout the day, casually brushing his hand, putting a hand on his shoulder, or, lately, at his waist. Sherlock made sure to find reasons to do the same to John.

"What are you doing now?"

Sherlock forced himself not to start. He was bending over his microscope and hadn't even realized John had come home much less had come into the kitchen. He had been very engrossed in some recent blood samples he had gotten from Molly. John, not realizing his entrance hadn't been noticed, had placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and leaned over him, as if to try and look into the eyepiece as well. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. John was pressed right against his back and his breath was ghosting over his ear.

"Blood samples with different toxins," he explained, turning to face his companion.

When John also turned to face him, Sherlock grinned and planted a kiss right on his mouth. It was quick and when Sherlock pulled back to see John looking startled, he laughed.

"Don't look at me like that," he chided. "You put yourself in that position."

"I..."

John could always surprise him. Always. So Sherlock was startled when he found himself being yanked away from the table, the chair he was in scrapping across the floor. Suddenly, John was in his lap, arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He may have been surprised, but his reflexes were excellent. Sherlock immediately wrapped his long arms around John, pulling him close to his chest, and parted his lips to allow him access. At the first touch of tongue, Sherlock moaned and wove his fingers through the shorter man's hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

That's when his mobile went off, pinging a text alert.

Sherlock stiffened, but John didn't let go.

The phone went off again.

John clutched him tighter and started sucking on his bottom lip.

Once more, and Sherlock was reaching for his mobile on the table, trying to look at it while still kissing the man in his arms. After a moment, he forced John to release his mouth, and, breathing hard, showed John the phone.

"Murder."

"Bugger!"

John, slightly pissed off and very red in the face (and the mouth), jumped off of Sherlock's lap and ran to grab his jacket.

"Is that where we were going with all that, then?" Sherlock asked, a smirk planted firmly on his lips, as he grabbed his own coat.

"No!" John yelled, already halfway down the stairs.

TBC

A/N: Ok, another short one, and nothing but fluff. Sorry for nothing but fluff! However, we'll have some adventure and stuff in the next installment! Oh, and I'm much better now, and, more importantly, my husband his paying for thinking I was over reacting to having the plague, cause he has it now! Ha! Wait, not ha, I have take care of him. Well, until next time! ::kisses::