A/N: A million thanks to starrysummernights for her review(s) of EVER chapter in less than one hour's time. Every single review makes me beam, and that applies to everyone's reviews really :) So please, have at it! I hope you enjoy this one; I know I did! The fluff is eating me alive and I don't care!

Sherlock's Second Sneak Attack

This time Sherlock had it all planned. He had gone over every detail in his head, ever scenario and every outcome. Thoroughly.

Leaving a brand new jar of John's favorite jam out on the table, it was bait the detective knew couldn't be resisted; it hadn't even been opened. John didn't trust any cans previously opened by Sherlock… Not since q case of mistaken identity and curdled blood; that was for a different experiment. It seemed tedious to Sherlock. John was developing an unhealthy suspicion of all things red in their cupboard… But the taller man had taken many precautions; he had even left a note-a forged note, he had to admit-which said that the can was from Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock watched from behind the hallway door as John looked from side to side, much like a child who was about to raid the cookie jar. The younger man smiled triumphantly because he knew he had succeeded.

His favorite blogger got out a spoon then proceeded to open the small jar of strawberry jam. After a moment of close study which Sherlock found quite entertaining to watch, John brought the container up to his nose to sniff it cautiously. Deciding it was indeed untouched by his genius flat-mate, he concluded that it was therefore safe to indulge in.

John moved to his red sitting chair and with that Sherlock began to carefully make his way over; silent as a cat silently stalking after a mouse. He kept his breathing steady, made sure to avoid all the creaky spots on the hardwood floor…

Then he pounced… in a manner of speaking.

Coming around the chair quickly, Sherlock leant down in front of the ashy-blonde man and gave a lingering kiss to the corner of his thoroughly surprised mouth. A tingle coursed through Sherlock's fingertips as he rested one hand on Johns knee and the other on the arm of the chair. Closing his eyes, indulged in the feeling of stubble under his soft lips, letting his tongue gently graze the sticky skin… the detective could distinguish the faint taste of strawberries, of mint, of…

John was rigid, not knowing what exactly to make of it all. One minute he was enjoying his favorite brand of jam and the next his best friend was actually kissing the side of his mouth. Out of bloody fucking nowhere, Sherlock was kissing the corner of his mouth. It felt like ages before the younger man moved away. As John opened his mouth to speak, no words would came out.

Thankfully, Sherlock always knew what to say:

"That's a good brand, John. We should get it more often."