A/N: Special thanks to Sendia, iamjohnlocked18 and TheReturned for their lovely reviews of the last chapter; every single one makes me smile :)
Two notes: First of all, I've started school and while the updates should continue daily, they will only be one weekdays – weekends are for sleeping now! Secondly, because I haven't received any in a while, just wanted to remind you wonderful readers I am open to suggestions!
As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this short 221B.
Frustration One - Coat Collars
John looked on as Sherlock did it.
For the hundredth time today, like he bloody well knew it annoyed him.
Turning up his damn coat collar to look cool, hiding that long line of skin that looked temptingly exposed in the sunlight of a cloudy day, almost translucent. Certainly ethereal. There were dark shadows on the lines of it, the muscles as it moved. It was sexy, tempting…
It was damned inviting.
And he was constantly covering it up.
Sherlock said something about being cold, walking on as if he truly didn't know what he was doing, as if he couldn't see the frustration written all over the drawn brow and dilated pupils.
That frustrated John all the more.
As they rounded a corner, the doctor grabbed hold of that damned coat, pushed the lithe body into the nearest wall, and succeeded in attacking that throat.
It was fast, hard; frankly John didn't give a rats-arse if it hurt. Teeth left marks, lips were bruising, tongue laved teasingly; he marked up that lovely expansion of blank canvas, painting with purple splotches. He stopped when he heard the moan, felt it on the tip of his tongue.
Stepping back quickly, John looked up at the flustered detective, now complete with blemished neck.
Now this... was much better.