Dirty Tricks
Sherlock has a dirty trick he likes to play on John. When John's mad at him for destroying something again, leaving him stranded somewhere, or having to calm down Lestrade behind his back (he acts like he doesn't know John does that, but he actually likes it quite a bit), he pulls out this trick. But mostly, he pulls it out when he wants to be touched.
The thing about Sherlock Holmes, when it comes to matters of, err, intimacy, is that he doesn't like to start things. Much like eating, he doesn't like to be intimate while in the middle of a case (something he made clear to John early on, with some brilliant words along the lines of: "Orgasms make you tired and sluggish."). He doesn't like to be intimate when he has too many experiments running at once, or when he's agitated with life in general.
He does, however, like to be intimate. Especially when the chase was good, when he was especially brilliant, when John was especially brilliant, when John is especially cute, when he's bored, when he's, yet again, mad at Lestrade (this one does bother John a bit), when there are no prospects of a case (oh goodness, when there are no prospects of a case, Sherlock can go for days...), or just intimate because he's in the mood (although, he'd never own up to it. Sherlock Holmes has better command over his body and desires than common men).
But, he doesn't like to start it. Like a fair fight - never throw the first swing (unless you thought the man would start a fair fight) - never land the first kiss or the first caress. He wasn't sure why he didn't like to start it (a fact that bothered him to no end), because he always liked (no, loved) the end result, and had no trouble taking charge once they'd begun, because, well, Sherlock liked to take charge over things in general.
It needs to be clarified that Sherlock doesn't like to start the physical aspect of intimacy. Since he is so powered by his mind, and mind alone, he has no problem tacking into the emotional aspect of intimacy, and pulling on John's heartstrings (which sing only for him and he knows it). He likes the mental aspects of intimacy. Like the way they interact intellectually, which of course, includes the emotional aspects, because the mind and spirit are far more connected than Sherlock would have ever admitted before John came into his life. So he has made the mental aspect of their relationship his stomping grounds.
And there in lies Sherlock's dirty trick for bedding John without throwing the first kiss.
(And it's also, always, a good distraction for when John's mad).
His dirty trick is telling John about a time he nearly died. He never recaps at the end of a case when he's nearly died. For example, with the Blind Banker, he did not tell John when it was all said and done that he'd nearly been strangled to death in the apartment he'd broken into while John stood outside. No, Sherlock left that little tidbit out. But when John was steaming mad over a pile of melted spoons (whatever reason Sherlock had for melting them hadn't been good enough for John), Sherlock began to describe, with his monstrous vocabulary and perfect imagery, in that way of looking at John whilst not looking at him (John hated that for a number of reasons), about how he'd known that man was in the flat and how he felt the cloth tug back against his throat and he was so helpless, without an air supply to cry for John's help, without being able to throw his attacker off, and whatever John was mad about, dissipated instantly at the thought that his beloved 'Lock was nearly taken from him, several weeks before he belonged to John, while he was standing, angry, just outside the door.
And that was when John would jump his bones. In that particular instance, causing Sherlock to come three times on the kitchen floor before John would finally release his beloved, cherishing the fact that, at least for the moment, his 'Lock was safe.
He'd used it several times already. Of course, it sometimes backfired on him as well. One particularly groggy morning, early on in their relationship, John had accidently broken his favorite mug, an old, heavy thing given to him by his father decades ago, and he'd stood in the kitchen, in his pajamas, looking much more like a kicked puppy than a war veteran. Sherlock couldn't stand it, and was still too prude to kiss him first, so he went to his dirty trick.
To this day, he still isn't sure why he thought it was a good idea to move whatever experiment he'd been working on to the other side of the table and show John the long scratch mark left by a sword, and tell John how he'd fought off this man while John was arguing with an automated till in a supermarket.
Of course they did make love (twice, in Sherlock's bed, very slowly and very sweetly), but John had spent all day brooding quietly. In fact, he was quiet in such a way that it muffled Sherlock into the silence with him (yes, the ever loquacious Sherlock was silent as a mouse all day). Sherlock realized that he should have just gathered the doctor up in his arms and kissed him senseless, not given him a tale of woe that made John feel guilty for ever leaving Sherlock for something so senseless as buying groceries.
It was a mistake Sherlock would not make again. Instead, he'd save up his dirty trick for when he really, really needed it.
(Please forgive me for my over use of run-on sentences in my writing style.)