"Don't think for one minute that I don't know what you're doing, Sherlock." John's patience is wearing thin. Since Sherlock drove off the last woman he made the mistake of bringing home several months back, John's been getting more and more frustrated, and Sherlock's finally figured out a new way to torment him.
John groans as Sherlock's full, pink lips wrap tightly around the ice lolly he's been rather obscenely working at for the past fifteen minutes.
"You're conducting some sort of experiment or something – I know you are."
"John, I have no idea what you're talking about. Mrs. Hudson brought these home and they're delightful." He smacks those infernal lips on the last word, sliding the lolly in and out, wrapping his tongue around it.
"Bollocks. You're studying the effects of phallic foods on the constraints of my jeans or some rubbish." John shifts in his chair, repositioning himself and feeling more than vaguely embarrassed. He's a grown man – watching his flatmate simulate fellatio on a vivid pink frozen treat shouldn't make him half-hard like this. It's ridiculous.
"You're being paranoid. You should try one of these; it might… cool you down." John can hear the smirk in his voice.
Thankfully, Sherlock's nearly finished demolishing the bloody thing. He tosses the wooden stick over his shoulder, and reaches for a banana.