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'Stop that annoying grinding of your teeth, John.'

'Shut up, Sherlock.'

'You have no reason to be angry. I solved the case.'

'I'm covered in shit.'

'So am I.'

'Did we really have to dive into the sewers to get this guy? Personally I think we could have let him rot in there!'

'Don't be ridiculous, John! He could have come out of the drain anywhere in London. How would we have found him then?'

'Follow the smell?'

'Very funny, John. Meanwhile, you didn't have to dive in after me, I had the situation under control.'

'Whatever. Take your clothes off, we are taking a shower.'

'We?'

'Yes, we. Look at yourself, if you didn't break both your hands you at least bruised them badly. What on earth were you thinking? That you were a boxing champion?'

'Actually, doctor, I was a boxing champion. And I also know my hands are not broken.'

'Fine, shower by yourself. Start by taking your shirt off.'

Sherlock glared at his flat mate standing angrily in front of him. He started fidgeting on the buttons of his shirt – indeed all covered in "shit" as John called it – but the pain in his hands stopped him.

John sighed impatiently. 'You know what? I think I'll shower first.' He grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and planted it between him and Sherlock. 'Here. Put your clothes in this when you got them off.' John took off his jumper and shirt in one movement and kicked off his shoes before removing his pants and underwear, while Sherlock was still attempting to undo the button.

'Well, good luck with that.' And John disappeared into the bathroom.

'Wait.' Sherlock grunted, his teeth clenched together.

John stuck his head out.

'Help me with this.' The detective said without looking at him. 'Please.'

John got out of the bathroom again and started undressing Sherlock.

'Are we really going to shower together?' The detective asked.

'Well, you obviously cannot shower yourself and since we both sink terribly…'

'People might talk….'

John gave him a firm look. 'People will never know, will they? Now, come on.'

The pair stepped into the shower, the hot water started washing away part of the smell immediately. John got a big bottle of soap and two sponges and started washing himself and Sherlock. He was still angry and that was probably a good thing because otherwise he would start thinking about how awkward and embarrassing it was to be washing a totally naked Sherlock, while being totally naked himself. He wished Sherlock would stop following his every move with his eyes.

'A bit awkward this…' Sherlock mumbled.

'Hmpf' John huffed, 'Awkward for me, you mean.'

'You? I am the one who has to be washed like an invalid! And I really don't like to be touched!'

'No shit! So now you know how I felt when you put your hand in my pants the other day.'

'That was for…'

'Science, yeah yeah. Relax will you? I am a doctor remember. And I was in the army! I have literally seen over a hundred naked men.'

'Did you wash them too?' Sherlock mocked.

'Would you shut up?!' John snapped. He tried to wash his flat mate's hair, but he couldn't reach it. 'Kneel down so I can wash your hair.' He ordered. Sherlock wanted to obey, but John stopped him. 'No! Face the other way, you idiot!'

He was glad the detective turned around before he could see the blush on the doctors' face. He had indeed seen a lot of naked men, and it had never mattered to him at all, but this was different. This was Sherlock.

John started soaping his friend's dark locks. He hadn't realized before that is was quite long.

This was rather nice actually. Intimate, but not uncomfortable. Maybe because they didn't face each other. Sherlock seemed to enjoy it too: he kept turning his head a little bit to where he wanted John's hands. Eventually he bent his head far forward. John took the hint and started to wash (massage really) his friends' neck and shoulders.

'Jesus Sherlock, do you ever relax?' His words were strong but his tone was soft, kind.

'Hmm…. sometimes, why?'

'The muscles in your back and shoulders are all knotted. You must get a lot of headaches.'

Sherlock didn't answer. Instead he straightened his back a bit, trying to force John's hands lower, but John, still standing up, couldn't reach it.

Suddenly the water started to get colder.

'Ah bugger, I think we are out of hot water.'

Sherlock got up and turned around, 'I suppose we're clean enough any way.'

'Yeah…' John was uncomfortable with Sherlock staring at him like that. Suddenly he was very aware again that he was completely naked.

'Yeah, right, so…' He turned off the water. 'Let's out of here.' John stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels.

'Listen,' he said while wrapping a towel around Sherlock, 'I will quickly dry myself and then I'll help you. I should have brought us some dry clothes…'

'Doesn't matter.' Sherlock stated while getting out of the shower. 'It is not like we have anything to hide anymore anyway.'

John grinned. 'Good point.'

After he was done he started drying his friend. Sherlock didn't seem at all uncomfortable, or maybe he was just hiding it as good as John.

'You should really do something about those knots, though.' John remarked.

'What do you suggest, doctor?'

'I don't know. Massage it or something.'

'Sure, massaging my own back will be easy.' Sherlock scorned.

'Then get someone else to do it. Or don't do it at all!' John was annoyed.

Sherlock watched him.

'You can do it.' He stated.

'Yeah well, I don't want to do it.' John responded.

'If you do it I will let you take me to the hospital to get my hands ex-rayed.'

John frowned. 'Why do you think I care about what you do with your hands?'

Sherlock gave him a look. 'Because you know that you will have to be helping me like this with everything I do if my hands are broken and I don't get medical assistance.'

'Why would I do that?' John threatened. But he knew the answer, and so did Sherlock.

'Sentiment, caring….'

John sighed. He knew he couldn't win this argument. 'Fine. Alright. I will massage your back, you annoying git!' He wrapped a towel around Sherlock's waist.

'Do you have any oil or something?' Sherlock shook his head. John wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out of the bathroom with Sherlock following him.

'Oh…I see I interrupt….' Mrs. Hudson stood in the room, facing her boys, wrapped in nothing but two towels, coming out of the shower, together….

'Oh no,' John said quickly, 'this isn't what it seems.' His cheeks were burning under her smug smile. He could die of embarrassment!

But Sherlock said: 'Ah Mrs. Hudson, do you have any massage oil?'

'Shut up, Sherlock!'

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