AN: Honestly, this chapter was mostly fanservice x) But John's thick facade is chipping away fast! I promise it won't be long now until the two are together ;D I'm sorry it's short, but I have 2 deadlines and an exam for next week :[ Afterwords, I'll try to write longer chapters.
CHAPTER 12
It was almost a week since John's "incident" with Sherlock, and it still would not leave his mind. Sherlock, however, seemed to be completely unaffected; in fact, he seemed better than ever, which seemed to agitate John slightly. "So you're gay then?" John asked as they ate breakfast in their kitchen - a common Thursday ritual for the two as both of their lecutres started later than usual,
"Not really," Sherlock replied, having the usual breakfast of just coffee,
"Straight? Bi?"
"It's not really my "area". Why? Are you interested?" Sherlock said with a mischievous grin,
"No, no. No. I was just wondering." John said, slightly embarassed from the remark. Leaving his seat, John opened the fridge, hoping to get a nice cold glass of orange juice. "JESUS..." he said, staggering back slightly and quickly closing the fridge,
"THERES A HEAD IN THERE SHERLOCK." He yelled, "IN THE FRIDGE."
"Oh, that reminds me, we must get some milk," Sherlock said, unaffected,
"A BLOODY HEAD!" John continued, ignoring Sherlock's mental note.
"You're point being?" He turned to John and raised an eyebrow, slightly amused by John's reaction.
"MY POINT!.." he took a deep breath and continued in a calmer, but still livid tone, "My point is that a fridge is for FOOD not BODY PARTS."
"Where else should I put it?" Sherlock's calm tone only fueled John's rage,
"WHY DO YOU NEED IT ANYWAY?"
"It's an experiment. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death"
"Oh an experiment. Another BLOODY EXPERIMENT." He laughed frustratedly, rubbing his eyes, "Oh god, I'm not even surprised anymore. I doubt anything will surprise me anymore." Sherlock looked at John with an artful smile, and the two spoke in unison,
"Oh dear god that was NOT a challenge,"
"Challenge accepted."
As Sherlock placed his hands together with glee clear on his face, John dejectedly sat back on his chair, dreading the roommate's next move.
It had been over a week and John had eventually assumed that Sherlock had forgotten. Work began to pile up and John buried himself in his studies and whatever Sherlock may or may not have been planning, he had to focus on the more important things. John spent most of his days in the library and came home late in the evening; the stress of an upcoming exam took its toll on John and he quickly grew tired and weary.
After a particularly long and difficult day, John trudged into the flat and found himself smothered in a thick, sweet, sugary scent. "EUGH" John exclaimed in shock, "What is this?" Althought not unpleasent, the potency of the smell was enough to cause nausea. It didn't take long to find the source of the smell as he stared with horror clear on his face. A layer of deep red jam coated the majority of the kitchen. He slowly approached it, while avoiding the floor spillages, and took a small sample from the countertop, "Mmmm... this is delicious..." he mumbled. Had Sherlock made him jam? Was this the surprise? He smiled to himself and chuckled lightly,
"John!" Yelled a voice, it was Sherlock. "JOOOHN!" John turned to Sherlock's room and called back in reponse,
"WHAT?"
"HELP ME!" Sherlock cried, and John ran quickly towards Sherlock's room.
Inside the bedroom was a simpering Sherlock, wearing nothing except from jam which was poured onto his bare, white chest, and a jar that was filled with jam that covered up his manhood. "I've spilt jam on me, and I need someone to help me." He stared seductively at John and continued, "I thought you might be the man for the job."
John froze for a moment, before covering up his sheer surprise, "Nice try Sherlock. You haven't shocked me." he said with an awkward cough,
"Oh I wouldn't say that." Sherlock said, and all of the sultry atmosphere that surrounded him died down, and he made his way out of the room - without the jam pot. The eyes of the smaller roommate couldn't help but fixate onto Sherlock's "equipment" for a brief moment,
"My god." escaped from under his breath, but John's attempt to hide his astonishment was quickly seen through by the roommate's keen eyes. The jam was uncomfortable on Sherlock's chest as it was still quite warm, but he made no show of it. As he exited the room, Sherlock crossed John's path, and spoke seductively in his baritone voice, "I guess I'll have to wash off this sticky, sweet jam." As he watched John turn away his gaze awkwardly, Sherlock couldn't help but feel mild glee as he strolled into the shower.
With Sherlock's back now infront of him, John finally fell to the floor as his heart raced and his hot, red face in his hands, "No John." He thought to himself, resisting the confusing emotion, "That was just plain unfair." Sherlock peeked through the side of the bathroom door, excitement filled him as he saw his roommate's response and he merrily cleaned up the jam, knowing it was a job well done.