John sat back in the bath, the bubbles piled high around him. The door opened and Sherlock entered.
"Close the door, Sherlock, you're letting out the heat."
"Do you need anything? A massage perhaps?" Sherlock asked.
"No massages. No Sherlock, this time you finally got it right. This bath is heavenly. I couldn't ask for anything more." John closed his eyes and sank further into the bath perfectly content.
"Would you like some tea?" Sherlock asked, his deep voice smooth as silk. Sherlock sat on the side of the tub, a cup of steaming tea in his hand.
John sat up and smiled. "My God, that's beautiful Sherlock," he said, "do we even own a porcelain tea cup and saucer?"
"I borrowed it from Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said passing the cup to him. John reached out and touched the tip of the handle with his index finger just as Sherlock dropped the boiling hot tea onto his chest.
"Yeoow!" John yelled pulling himself half out of the water, the bubbles dripping down his chest which was rapidly turning red.
"I'm so sorry, John," Sherlock said. He reached down into the water fishing around for the cup and saucer.
"Hey Sherlock! Watch it. This is getting incredibly personal."
"Mrs Hudson doesn't know that I took the saucer. Please be careful." John jumped as Sherlock's hand squeezed something a little too sensitive. John lowered himself down and screamed again as the cup broke sending shards of china into his backside. He flopped over the side of the tub slipping so that he conked his head against the floor.
Sometime later John lay on his stomach on a hospital bed muttering, "I didn't even get to taste the tea," as the doctor pulled the tiny shards out of his skin with tweezers. "Maybe it would have been better to lose," John thought.