Ahhhhh.

John Watson has had enough. He growls as the dratted phone makes another sensual sound and he lays his newspaper on the table.

"Going somewhere?" Sherlock grumbles, fiddling with his phone.

"Store." comes John's clipped answer.

He pulls on his jacket forcefully and heads toward the door.

"Bring me the foot from the morgue. Molly should have it." he demands.

"No." John scowls and he stomps down the stairs. He opens the door and the crisp air bites at his nose. He heads toward Tesco's, relieved he still has Sherlock's card from his last trip to the store so he doesn't have to head back.

A few hours later, after having stalled for as long as was able, John finally walks back home, bags in tow and shoulder hurting. Never having been able to deny Sherlock, he has the sordid foot in a cooler. He heads up the stairs and he almost bellows and drops the groceries when he hears that stupid moan. He storms upstairs and flings the door open.

"Can't you do something about that? Buy a new phone and get rid out this one?"

Sherlock turns to face John, his eyebrow cocked and his phone in his hand.

"Why does it bother you so much?"

He walks closer to John and leans in to his face. John sucks in his breath, his eyes widening.

"Pupils are dilated. Heart beat quickening. Hand twitching. Oh. I see."

He pulls back and flops onto the couch.

"You're jealous. You want the woman to have flirted with you. You hate that she decided to choose me instead. Don't worry John. She wasn't my type. Too cocky and arrogant. Did you bring the foot?"

John's mouth drops and his eyes widen even more.

"Oh, do stop with that face. It's not very flattering."

"Sherl- I….. no… you…"

"'It's all fine' as you had said before. You might want to give up this silly crush you have on her. She's in America and thriving with her assistant."

"Sherlock, I never liked her. I just think it's….. inappropriate." John blushes.

Sherlock's eyes narrow and he peers at John. He blushes harder and drops the bags on the table, happy that he hadn't decided on buying anything worth putting away. He walks upstairs and changes into his pajamas once in the confines of his own room. How did Sherlock come up with that deduction? It's better than him actually figuring out why I hate that stupid ring tone and that stupid woman. I need a plan.

John snuggles onto his bed, happy with his scheme. He needs a lot of sleep, what with all the work he has to do tomorrow.