Tea?

by danglingdingle

On one morning, John feels like singing. Sherlock remains baffled. Pre-slash. Disclaimer: BBC's characters used here for no profit.

Mornings were always interesting in 221B Baker Street,

If by interesting one found a grumpy Sherlock and a chirpy,

Cheery, humming John fetching. Alarmed my the familiar tune, the words askew.

Harrumphing tall figure perked his ears. There were words.

Eagerly, Sherlock rushed to the kitchen, forcing an amiable smile on his face and returned the

Lightsome greeting; "Know what I mean..." Then, John pronounced, grinning; "Sherlock, my belle…"

Leaving the consulting detective standing there with a tea cup in hand, frowning at the feeling of…

Elusiveness of the ungraspable. Shrugging, Sherlock began humming; "Oh what you mean to me…"