Sherlock likes to text, John does not. Well, no. John liked to send him simple texts like, "On my way home." or "Getting - for dinner."
But Sherlock liked to hold entire conversations instead of just calling John. John didn't mind if Sherlock called him while he was at work, he actually liked the chance to talk to Sherlock while he had some down time between patients. But Sherlock wouldn't call. He'd text.
And sometimes it was, well, rather at the wrong time.
"John, come home now. -SH"
"Why do you put your initials at the end of a text? I know it's you."
"Habit. -SH"
"Well, I'm busy. You can wait until I get off at 4."
"But I'm so booooooored. -SH"
"No. Busy. Wait."
Ten minutes later.
"I'm naked. -SH"
"So?"
"So, that doesn't make you want to rush home? -SH"
"No, Sherlock. You're often naked."
"But I'm…so ready. -SH"
"You're often that, too."
"You're no fun. -SH"
Seven minutes later.
"Please, John. -SH"
No reply.
Five minutes later.
"I'll do anything you want. -SH"
No reply.
Two minutes later.
"I'll cover my own body in strawberry jam and let you do whatever you please with that. -SH"
No reply.
Three minutes later.
"I'll cover your body in chocolate and lick off every bit. -SH"
No reply.
John thought he'd given up, and at this point it was just funny to John how desperate Sherlock was for anything to keep him busy. John didn't particularly feel wanted, so much as needed to keep Sherlock entertained. He chuckled and put his phone back in his pocket on time for a patient to walk in.
Six minutes later, John's phone beeped. He knew it was no emergency, but he checked his phone anyway.
"So, yeah," John was telling his patient, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "It looks like a small case of the flu," he selected to open the message, "A little bit of antibiotics from the pharmacy and," *choke*.
He read the message, "I'll suck you against the front door and not stop until you're completely satisfied…twice. Then, I'll satisfy you some more on the sofa, then the shower, then probably the kitchen table as you somewhat attempt to make dinner. -SH"
John turned his phone off and turned it on as he was packing up to go to lunch. He read seven messages Sherlock had sent of things he'd do to John if John went home right that moment.
So John wasted zero time. He got a taxi and forgot about lunch.
He walked into the flat to see Sherlock laying on the couch wearing one of John's faded gray t-shirts -that was too small- and a pair of red briefs.
"Oh, hello, John." Sherlock said, not looking up from his iPod.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" Sherlock still didn't look up from his iPod.
"I rush home because of terribly erotic texts I get from you and all you say is hello?"
Sherlock very confusedly looked at John.
"Oh, no. Don't play dumb. I read the messages. They were from you, and I expect…well…"
"You came home at lunch not because you missed me and wanted to see me, but because you want sex?"
"Yes."
"Wow."
"Then don't text me while I'm at work!"
Sherlock squinted his eyes and stared at John. "Fine."
"Are you kidding?"
"What are you angry about?"
"I rush home-" He breathed out, "You know what, never mind."
"No, what?"
"Don't text me during the day!"
"That's all you're angry about?"
"No!"
"Then, what John?"
"Just drop it."
Sherlock got off the couch and went to John. "Are you angry at what I said, and I'm not doing anything about it now?"
John wanted to feel Sherlock now. Sherlock was in one of his moods to withhold sex from John, and John hadn't touched him in almost two weeks. And here Sherlock was, half naked, in his shirt, and smelling of a mixture of faint soap and stale dirt. And for some reason it smelled so good.
"Just don't text me at work anymore, alright?"
"Even when I offer to suck you against the door?"
"No sucking is occurring at this moment, so you gave me false information and false hope. I don't like the distraction, and I don't like when I get embarrassed when I read a message with my patient in the room."
"When you get embarrassed, do your cheeks go red and your eyes sort of water?"
"I guess?"
"Ooh, I love that." Sherlock kissed John.
"Just don't anymore."
Sherlock kissed John again. In minutes, John was against the front door with his pants down.
Sherlock didn't stop the texts. When he wanted John home exactly at that moment, he knew just what to say and when to say it. And now, every time John hears his text tone, he gets a slight erection. Sherlock had won.