Complete crack, inspired by a silly late-night conversation in the #innercircle.
There are greasy, sticky handprints all over the walls that John dreads explaining to Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock is lying naked and prone on the kitchen table, arms and legs hanging off the sides. John's slumped, similarly exhausted and debauched, in one of the spindly wooden chairs.
"I take it back…" he gasps, between giggles. "That first night chase, after Angelo's. That wasn't the most ridiculous thing I've ever done. This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."
Sherlock laughs and groans quietly, raising his head to survey the damage to the kitchen. Several experiments have been knocked to the floor, there are more greasy handprints all over the refrigerator and the counter, and – most inexplicably – the faucet is running. He turns his head to look at John.
"You can't tell me it wasn't worth it, though." As usual, he looks insufferably smug, and John grins.
"No, you're right. It was pretty spectacular."
Sherlock preens, running his hand through his tangled curls. The gesture would be a lot more effective had his hands been clean. With a grunt, John sits up properly in the chair, making a feeble attempt at looking decent, despite his sweaty torso, mussed hair, and lack of clothing.
"Next time, though" John coughs out, still trying to catch his breath, "we're using proper lube, not the butter."
I would like to take a moment here to clarify that in no way do I condone using butter – or any food product – as lubricant. It's messy and dangerous. Butter is butter and lube is lube and never the twain shall meet. Please do not take this seriously!