DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

It was a normal day in 221B Baker Street. Well, as normal as it's ever going to be. John was trying to read the newspaper, and Sherlock, well, Sherlock was running around the place, knocking everything over, shouting over and over again that he was bored.

John knew that boredom was different with Sherlock, it drove him insane. John was trying to subtly text Lestrade to beg him to give him a case. He'd sent a text to him and was waiting as patiently as he could for the reply.

'John, I'm bored'

'Yes I know you've been telling me for the last hour, I'm trying to think of something you could do-'

He cut himself off when he thought of what happened a couple of days back, and a couple of days before, the... kisses.

He got a plan. He was going to hold his face, and if he didn't retaliate, he could just say there was dirt or something on his face. Perfect. He put his newspaper down and stood up in the middle of the living room.

'Sherlock?'

He got a muffled what as an answer.

'Come here?' John made it sound like a question rather than a statement.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and gave him that deducting look. He got up and walked over the table, and held the back of John's neck with one of his hands. He then started to nuzzle John's neck, making it ever so difficult for John to keep back a moan. Sherlocks lips brushed against his skin, then he placed a kiss on his neck. Working his way up slowly. By the time he'd gotten up to the jaw, John was clutching onto Sherlocks curly hair. John couldn't believe that Sherlock could turn him into a quivering mess just by kissing his neck a couple of times. But then he kissed him on the lips.

It was just a small and innocent kiss, and then he pulled back, and he was searching John's face for... something. He doesn't know what. But John didn't want to stop. So he kissed Sherlock. He grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for a deep and longing kiss. Sherlock kissed back straight away. He was pawing at John's trousers.

Maybe this will finally get past the kissing stage.

They were both stumbling around, kissing each other exceedingly. Neither wanted to stop. The kisses gradually got faster and needier. John was pushed onto the desk, where they lost contact for a second, but re found it, with the same eagerness.

'John!'

There was a bang of the door, and thundering footsteps up the stairs.

Both pulled away, but still held onto each other. Sherlock looked at John. There was no way on earth he could get him looking presentable before they got up here. He pulled John of the desk and shoved him into his room, down the landing. Sherlock buttoned up his shirt buttons (seriously, how is John doing this without him noticing?) and sat down on the sofa, looking as casual as he possibly could. He didn't know why he even tried. Whoever it was probably had the deduction skills as that of a snail.

'Sherlock?'

'Yes?' Sherlock replied, acting as detached as he could.

Sarah. It was Sarah. Just the person he needed to be here right now. He thought of John in the other room. He felt this over whelming sensation in the pit of his stomach. It felt like... jealously. But he didn't understand. Why was he jealous? Uh? It must be some food he's eaten. He might have contaminated some food with those moldy ears the other day. Best not not tell John about that.

'Is John around?' She asked.

'No'

'Oh. Well, could you tell him we don't need him in the surgery next Wednesday. Bit of a mix up with the shifts'

Sherlock grunted. Did this woman actually ever say anything of use?

'Ok, I'll just be, er, going now'

She turned, ready to descend that seventeen flight of stairs that led up to 221B Baker Street, but she stopped, and turned.

'One more thing, erm, just, don't mess him around- I mean- don't take him for granted-ed, or break his heart. He's a good man and he deserves a lot more than me'

Sherlock couldn't help the flicker of confusion that ran across his face. What? Break his heart? This woman has absolutely no idea what comes out of her mouth does she?

Before he could respond to her, he was already gone. John then came out of his room, looking a lot more presentable.

'What was that about and who was it?'

'Sarah'

'Oh what did she want?'

'Oh you don't have a shift next Wednesday for some reason'

'Oh right'

John was left to figure out why Sherlock had just become devoid of emotion in literally ten seconds. A heavy silence hung over them for a moment. But then he remembered he'd gotten a text whilst he was, rearranging his shirt...

'Cold case, needs solving fast, come to Scotland Yard ASAP. Lestrade.'

'Sherlock' He threw him the phone.

He read the text and they were on their way, once again.