Blood
AN: I could have gone the obvious route for this word and wrote about somebody's blood, however I decided to use it more as a descriptive colour.
Sherlock stepped into the house, shaking the snow out of his hair, teeth chattering slightly from the cold. John pushed a warm cup of coffee into the detective's cold hands and guided him over to the sofa, wrapping him in a thick fleecy blanket. John sat down on the sofa, next to Sherlock and flicked on the TV. A crappy quiz show came up and John had fun watching Sherlock guess which answer each contestant would pick. The ex-army doctor taught Sherlock a few general knowledge facts and they had a bit of light banter.
The snow eventually melted into Sherlock's hair, dripping water down the back of his neck. When an icy cold droplet splashed the top of his spine he shivered involuntary. John pulled the detective into a tight embrace, feeling Sherlock's warm breath on his cheek. When they pulled apart John pressed a light kiss onto Sherlock's chapped lips. The detective opened his eyes slightly wider but on feeling John's hands tangle in his hair, he gave a small moan of pleasure and scooted closer. The older man, having more experience in these matters, deepened the kiss, tracing the curve of Sherlock's bottom lip with his tongue. The consulting detective let out a strangled sort of moan and placed his hands, rather awkwardly, on John's hips. John moved one hand out of Sherlock's hair, placing it on the small of Sherlock's back, pulling them together. Sherlock felt John's tongue enter his mouth and allowed the blond man to take even more control. All the detective could feel was John, all he could smell was John and all he could taste was John. He could feel the warmth of the shorter man everywhere and it made him feel safe and secure.
Slowly they pulled apart. John had never felt so relaxed and accomplished. The consulting detective was pleased with what had happened but startled all the same. His brain was running at twice its normal speed, trying to process everything that had happened in the last few minutes.
Sherlock decided he could do one of two things.
1: He could run into his room and hide. Whilst hiding in his room he could formulate a plan of how to deal with the situation.
2: Or he could talk to John, ask him what he was doing and try to figure out his feelings.
Unfortunately for him, John's smile wavered and he looked on the brink of tears, so Sherlock decided to go for the unwritten option 3: Kiss John.
The raven-haired detective lightly pressed his lips to John's before pulling away and smiling. The taller man shifted himself so that he was partially lying across John who was playing with his hair, twisting the dark curls around his fingers.
This was how they stayed for a while so when Lestrade walked into the flat, case files for Sherlock tucked under his arm, he didn't expect John to be leaning down, kissing Sherlock. Greg coughed and then looked at the floor, giving them some privacy. As they broke apart John began blush and Sherlock chuckled at his bloggers red cheeks that were as bright as blood.