John looked up from his book and turned his attention to Sherlock, who was bent over a pile of papers across the room. Bowing to the inevitable, he sighed and got up.
"It had better not be on your person again."
"I'm afraid so," said Sherlock with no trace of regret, "but I'm engaged in an important study at the moment, while your time is being spent on useless entertainment."
"Don't you read?" asked John as he reluctantly made his way across the room.
"Of course, but I doubt it's as edifying for you as it would be for me."
Sherlock had not glanced up from his papers once during this exchange, but John found it hard to believe that having an unrelated conversation was less of an interruption than the two seconds it would have taken Sherlock to retrieve his phone.
"Thanks for that," he said in response to Sherlock's rude remark. "So is it in your jacket pocket again?"
He automatically dipped his hand inside the same pocket as before, but his hand met nothing but Sherlock's chest. He tried to keep himself from becoming tense like he usually did when they were this close, for fear that Sherlock would observe and deduce.
"Trouser pocket, right side."
"I-what?" Grateful that Sherlock was looking at the papers and not the redness that had surely spread over his face, John quickly extracted his hand from Sherlock's chest pocket and backed away.
"Come now, Doctor, you've gotten this far. Might as well see it through."
"This is absurd," said John. "You'd have had your phone minutes ago if you'd just bothered to reach into your pocket yourself."
"I'd have thought you'd appreciate being given a useful task. I assure you that what I'm going to do with the phone is of far more importance than whether or not you read your book."
John stood there for a moment in dumbfound silence. He was at once aggravated at Sherlock's bizarre reasoning and enticed by the proposed task. He stepped forward again, careful to appear assertive but not eager.
"You know you're arrogant git, don't you?" he said in Sherlock's ear as he reached for the pocket.
He sensed rather than saw the smile on his friend's face. John's hand slid into the deep pocket of Sherlock's trousers. His face became hotter as his fingers brushed the warm thigh. Sherlock, who had previously kept up constant movement by either shuffling papers or scanning with his finger, suddenly became quite still. John experienced a moment of panic as he temporarily forgot how to breathe, his hand still trapped against Sherlock's thigh with only a thin lining separating him from skin.
For the first time in the whole ridiculous conversation, Sherlock turned to look at John. His eyes were bright, his expression intense but unreadable. With great effort, John forced his hand down another half inch, seized the phone, and pulled it free. He felt his cheeks burning as he set it none too gently on the table and hoped that his blush would be mistaken for aggravation.
As he began to turn away from the detective, Sherlock's hand closed on his wrist. John's heart raced at the contact, but he endeavored to keep his expression neutral.
"I'm not fetching anything else for you right now, Sherlock," he said with as much disdain as he could muster.
A hit of a smile appeared at the corner of Sherlock's mouth. His eyes continued to burn into John's.
"Interesting," he said.
His smile widened ever so slightly, then he finally released the doctor and returned to his work. Fearing that retreating to his bedroom would give something away, John settled for hiding behind his book, where for some minutes he was only able to stare blankly at the page.
The next day, Sherlock couldn't seem to settle to anything. Books, papers, microscopes, and dead things alike were at the mercy of his newly shortened attention span. John followed Sherlock's progress with carefully concealed interest as he tore through their flat, spending no more than ten minutes on any given activity. Finally he came and stood before the doctor.
"John...John, I'm bored."
There was a hint of desperation in his voice, but John merely straightened his newspaper without looking up.
"John?"
"Well what do you expect me to do about it?" he asked from behind the paper.
Sherlock began to pace in front of John's chair.
"Quite so, what could you do about it? Your days are largely dominated by tedium, which would of course make you unable to suggest a sufficiently stimulating activity. Yet here I am, presenting you with another opportunity to rise above your mind-numbing routine and you show no interest whatsoever. You know full well that if we find something to do together it will be infinitely superior to however you would have otherwise spent your day, but instead of jumping up you sit there hiding behind a paper. Look at me, John!"
Sherlock ripped the paper from John's grip, tossed it onto the floor, and planted himself directly in front of him, leaning in with a hand on each armrest. Other men might have shrunk back against the chair at finding themselves inches away from the penetrating gaze of Sherlock Holmes, but John stood his ground.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you meant for me to participate in your non-tedious activity."
"That would certainly explain your lack of enthusiasm," said Sherlock.
"I'm ready to be enthused," said John, continuing to inject affected cynicism into his tone. "Enthuse me."
A roguish smile spread over Sherlock's face. His bright eyes were fixed on John's as he leaned in closer still.
"As you wish."
And with that he kissed him full on the mouth.
At first John was so stunned that he could do nothing but sit there with his arms limp at his sides. His mouth, however, responded of its own accord. Sherlock's kisses were assertive, but not really passionate. He was testing the waters. Still, it was enough that John was completely incapable of pulling away. He had often caught himself gazing at them, but he was still surprised at the softness and warmth of Sherlock's lips.
All too soon, Sherlock broke the kiss. John could see that the other man's breathing had become heavier and a hint of color had appeared in the usually pallid cheeks. The thought that John had caused Sherlock to feel an actual human emotion made his heart pound even harder in his chest. He sat there somewhat awkwardly, wondering if he should stand up or remain seated, as Sherlock straightened, towering over him.
"Sherlock..."
But John was at a loss for words. As usual, Sherlock was not.
"You wondered why Mrs. Hudson assumed we might not need two bedrooms, and why various people we encountered took you to be my date."
"You've done this before?"
"Briefly, some time ago. Have you?"
"With a man?" asked John. "Never."
Sherlock leaned forward again, this time placing his hands on John's knees. He bent down and brought his face alongside John's. He brushed John's ear with his lips and slowly slid his hands a few inches down his thighs. John gave a small moan and a pleasant chill ran through him.
Sherlock whispered in his ear, "Any objections?"
John's voice was a bit husky when he answered. "God no."
Now Sherlock was kissing him again, and this time he wasn't holding back. The passion that had been missing before was now very much present, and it took John's breath away. When Sherlock's tongue brushed his bottom lip John was eager to receive it. Sherlock's hands slid further down his thighs at the same time that his tongue entered John's mouth, and fire shot through his body. He raised a hand to the back of Sherlock's head and buried his fingers in the soft dark curls. He had been longing to touch Sherlock's hair for some time. Sherlock gave John's tongue a gentle suck, causing him to moan into his mouth.
Sherlock seemed to take John's moan as a signal, because he immediately grabbed John by the sweater and pulled him to a standing position without removing his lips from the doctor's. John succeeded in pulling off Sherlock's jacket as they stumbled toward the closest bedroom. They were nearly there when Sherlock pushed John against an empty bit of wall and proceeded to run his hands down his torso, which today was covered only by a light sweater. John was ready to reach for Sherlock's buttons when suddenly Sherlock was kissing him again, his body tightly pressed up against John, pinning him to the wall. At the feel of Sherlock's body against him, John's arousal became painful.
"Oh god Sherlock," said John. He moved against him, and this time it was Sherlock's turn to moan.
"John..."
With great effort, John and Sherlock finally made it into the bedroom.